In an age before the internet, men created subcultures where they would gather together in pubs and discuss romantic literature effectively banned by corporate interests. I discovered that a friend of mine was in one of these clubs.
One day I was complaining to him about how terrible the book I just read was. It was advertised and promoted as romance but it wasn't. At all. He told me about this club I could join and it sounded interesting, but unfortunately it was in a place I couldn't really commute to unless I spent the night somewhere. He promised he'd give me some books to read, the kind of books they had at the club.
He gave me a book that looked home made and the pages looked like someone photocopied what they did on their typewriter. It was a story about a guy that longed for love and all these encounters he had with unbelievably beautiful women that chased him down and had their way with him. It was exactly what I wanted to read!
I wanted more. My friend let me borrow more books and the odd time I was even able to meet other members of the book club so we could discuss things. I wanted to be part of this sub-cultural movement!
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