I got tagged. Quite unsuspectingly by This Person. I was quite innocuously going through blog after blog when I read the post and fell for the game. Damn the GHM (Georgette Heyer Man).
I fell in love with Georgette Heyer when I was a wee lass of 14. My friend Ria was an addict, and she got me hooked by providing me my first one, called The Spanish Bride. Needless to say, I was quite charmed by Juana and Harry, and from then on, went through them like a warm knife through butter. It took me to college street when I was in Class X. I would go with 10 rupees in my pocket, roam around, get myself dirty with the grime coated books that the book seller would try to sell me at 15 rupees but I would staunchly stick to 7 (because the return bus ticket cost 3 rupees). In the end, I would go home, the proud owner of one book.
One book led to two, three... and soon I realized that I was gathering quite a collection.
Anyway, back to my story about the GHM. I fell in love with Vidal, the young Marquis of Devil's Cub. I was enamoured by this bad boy simply because I have a thing for a smattering of goodness in roguery. Tom Jones was my type, Byron was my type, Mickey Rourke was my type. I always had the dream of charming a bad boy to fall for me. Of taming a tough guy.
God, I sound like the blurb of a Mills and Boon. But then again, its my Mills and Boon. I read them too. The more outrageous the better. It reminds me of those impossibly scary teen age when I was nothing but a mass of quaking nerves, waiting on the threshold of adulthood with bated breath, waiting... watching people all around her fall in love, and be "happily ever after"(or so they thought then) and waiting.
I still wait. I know he will come. Some day.