Who's Your Literary Boyfriend?

I like to tease my sister.  In a very sweet, sisterly way, I assure you.  So, if anyone read last week’s blog, they might have noticed my not-so-subtle dig at a certain Mr. Rochester.  They also might have seen my sister’s response, where she valiantly and vehemently defended the poor man.  I smiled when I read her response, but then I got to thinking.

Any teenage girl you meet on the street immediately understands when asked:  “Team Edward or Team Jacob?  Team Peeta or Team Gale?”    Most know who Heathcliff is, even if they haven’t read the book.  Who doesn’t recognize the name:  “Mr. Darcy?” 

We girls love imaginary guys, don’t we?  The funny thing to me about it all is that “imaginary” is exactly what they are.  Fake people.  Guys who are nothing more than ideas hatched from the brains of the individuals who wrote the books.  And yet, we love and defend our literary heroes.  Swoon over them.  Secretly long for them.  At least, teenagers do.  Well, apparently more than a few middle-agers do too, if you remember anything about the recent “Twilight” trend. 

I’m not going to try to psycho-analyze in depth this whole “Fake Book Guy Thing.”  I think it’s pretty obvious why we girls love our imaginary boyfriends. 

Drum roll please: 

They never disappoint us. 

That’s pretty much it, isn’t it?  Heck, let’s say you’re dying over Heathcliff.  For some reason, this guy is always seen as a romantic hero.  In my opinion, he tops the list of the biggest Literary Losers, but here’s the great thing about imaginary boyfriends:  it doesn’t matter.  Why?  Because you can redeem him in your mind, and continue the story!

Try this:  Heathcliff doesn’t die, but wanders the moor, desolate over the loss of Cathy.  He languishes under some stupid tree, practically starving to death while black crows peck at his filthy hair, until one day a lovely young woman who happens to wear your face stumbles upon him.  He looks at her; she looks at him, blah blah blah.  They live happily ever after, move to London and open a tattoo parlor/tea room that caters to brooding, literary heroes. 

Browsing online, I found a little quiz:  “Who is your literary boyfriend?”

I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I took the quiz.  Trust me, in Real Life I’m “Team Dave,” all the way, but I still took the quiz.  The result:  Jay Gatsby.  Seriously?  Sadly for me, thanks to Hollywood, when I think of The Great Gatsby I picture Leonardo DiCaprio’s face.  I don’t mean to be snarky, but that’s not a pleasant experience for me. 

I don’t even know who else was in the list of possibilities for literary boyfriends, here.  At least my answer wasn’t Heathcliff.  Or Edward.

So who is your literary boyfriend?