“She has standards now. Blame the bookshelf.”
There was a time when the requirements were simple.
Cute.
Funny.
Maybe remembers your birthday.
Then we started reading romance.
And things… escalated.
Now we’re looking for communication.
Consistency.
Emotional intelligence.
Banter strong enough to carry an entire chapter.
Devotion without possession.
Protective without becoming controlling.
A man who listens, apologizes when he’s wrong, respects boundaries, supports her dreams and, when necessary, delivers a grovel so spectacular that I need to reread it twice.
Apparently fictional men have turned this into a full application process.
And you know what?
Good.
Because underneath all our jokes about impossible book-boyfriend standards, romance stories sometimes remind us of something worth remembering:
Being cared for should feel like being seen.
Being loved shouldn’t require constantly guessing where you stand.
And emotional availability is considerably sexier than spending six months decoding a two-word text.
Will I still become temporarily unwell over a brooding, morally gray fictional disaster with excellent cheekbones?
Obviously.
I contain multitudes. ♡
But he’d better have character development.
Romanceaholic is accepting applications. The bookshelf has already reviewed the requirements.
What has romance reading permanently added to your list of standards?
🖤 Carmen
🖤 Romanceaholic
Whatever today brings, go find something delicious to read. ♡
Love stories. Taken seriously.