What if you wrote a romance with Tom of myspace as the hero. Of course you couldn't, but the thought is amusing.
Oh my god, that made me laugh and laugh. What popped into my head was a terrible, terrible parody of romances:
"But, Tom," she typed furiously into the instant messenger window, "why must you be everybody's friend? What about me? Why am I not in your Top 8?"
"DarkeChylde83, my love," he typed back tenderly, "if you cannot understand my need to unite and inform the peoples of Myspace, then there can be no future for us. I am like the wind and must caress the cheeks of the world, impartially and without question."
AndiB said:
I think that's another problem I have. I see a lot of characters in jobs that require 80+ hours a week of work and yet they have all this free time in which to fall in love.
That's not just a problem with white-collar jobs in romances. I'm thinking specifically about Westerns, where the cowboys have been driving several hundred longhorns down the trail, from dawn to dusk, and the hero still has the energy to lure the heroine to a nearby stream and throw her into the arms of bliss. Er, what? She doesn't have traildust in all her nooks and crannies? He isn't thinking about eating some beans and crawling gratefully into his bedroll? Nope, they're gonna knock boots two or three times beneath a willow.
My favorite contemporary portrayal of a working lug is in a novel that I can't remember the name of (His Brother's Wife? His Brother's Keeper? Something like one of those), where the hero is a western Canadian cattle rancher. He gives a little speech towards the end about how being married to him isn't going to be easy because he comes home smelling bad and dog-tired, and sometimes he falls asleep in the bathtub. The part about falling asleep in the bathtub really clinched the character for me -- I grew up on a farm, and I can't even count the number of times I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and had to pound on the door because my dad had fallen asleep in the tub
again.
I think there's room in the world of romance for more blue-collar-ish jobs. Not everybody has to be a mogul or a Greek prince or a Scottish laird. Gimme a guy from Maine who catches lobsters or a helicopter mechanic or a pharmacist.