Misery Loves Company

My son told me the other day that he thinks I enjoy other people’s misery. No, I told him, that’s not true, but what he was referring to was that I believe in the saying misery loves company, which brings me to today’s blog.

That saying can be used either way. That someone who’s miserable can bring the rest of those around him or her down to be miserable so that s/he is not alone or that s/he who is miserable can take solace in someone else’s misery so as not to feel isolated. The latter is where I’m coming from. Though for me, it’s humor not solace that I give and get.

For instance if a friend calls me up and tells me something bad happened to her, my retort is to the tell her something bad that happened to me. We laugh and it’s over. We’re both miserable, but because we shared and laughed about it, we can move on and not let it get us down.

I call marriage the misery club. Now I know there are happy marriages. I don’t know any personally, but I know they exist. I’m married, multiple times. Obviously I know from where I speak. There are a host of reasons my marriages failed, mainly centered around me and my oddities or lack thereof. But, regardless, I find this topic incredible fodder and enjoy delving into to every chance I get.

As far as marriage and misery are concerned, I used to think the grass is always greener on the other side, but the truth is you never know what goes on behind closed doors. (Had enough aphorisms?) I used to look at other people’s marriages and think how idyllic or how awful. Sometimes I could see why they worked. Other times I’d wonder how could she stay with him after he did fill in the blank? Or think God, what does he see in her? She must have a golden mutzia. (That’s a very bad phonetic spelling of a Yiddish word for vagina as told to me by an old Aunt who has since passed away and can’t verify if it’s even a real word.) But as I’ve gotten older, I realize it’s all about what we’re willing to tolerate and what we put as the priorities. If one’s relationship is primary, then that person forgives and overlooks a lot as the need arises. If one’s need is financial, then s/he cow tows to the breadwinner. If it’s sex or beauty that’s important, then s/he works out, eats well, gets hair plugs or a boob job.

How does this all relate to writing romance novels? I find other people’s eccentricities comforting. Interesting, fascinating and comforting. I thrive on knowing that someone would only eat a sandwich if it’s cut diagonally. That the only way they drink root beer is lukewarm. That a falafel is mealy. That pink pumps turn you on. That toothpaste left dried around your mouth makes you dry heave.

It’s what I use to create characters. The more absurdities, oddities, fetishes, the better.