Sensitive Man: The Love-Scapades of Hank Roman

Hank Roman, the pioneer in the art of desire, is making women’s hearts flutter and lady-parts wet across the nation.  Author Hank Roman is one of the first successful male romance novel writers. With what we men of the NONSENSE staff consider the most impossibly realistic portrayal of a first-person woman’s perspective, Roman delves deeper than any scorpion or rabbit-device has delved before. This past week his novel, Pregnant With Yearning, replaced the Grateful Dead’s new book, “Selling Total Shit” on the New York Times Best Seller’s list. Roman describes his innovative writing styles in this short interview with Nonsense writer Sean Patrick Goggin.

 

A high seas love tale for all seamen to enjoy. It’ll get your juices flowing faster than scurvy, and will make you want to walk every buccaneer’s plank.

 

“What most women writers only half-understand is that women want shrewd, hard-boiled men. Like the gallant lumberjack, the leathery gladiator, the musky ranchhand, and the drivers who drive cars into walls while they’re still in the cars for television commercials. Oh, and pirates. In my novel, The Lusty Buccaneer, I gave my pirate a wooden leg. With barnacles. And a beard that could scrape burned eggs off a pan. And I gave him a parrot that shits on everything. And for the guys, the parrot knows swearwords that he learned from feisty seadogs. Now, that’s for real. And in Kiss the Shit out of Me, I write about the gladiator’s dong being ribbed with the scars of 1,000 battles. And how it drives his lover to instantly female-climax with what most likely feels like a truck driving through a garage door.

 

Like Gladiator, but less gay. A colusieum-sized adventure of scandals and sandals. The plot will fill your mind like lions filled with asshole Christians.

 

However, with that realism, I also give you chivalrous and erotic male characters, which gets a vagina drooling. Like, if I want to make my male character more romantic, I’ll make him talk like Shakespeare did, but, like, a Shakespeare that loves Bud Light and the Jets.  Shakespearian language can also put a historical spin on any romance novel, even one about two comely lesbian female astronauts who have one passion: climbing into each other’s space-suit-diapers and making out. Like in, Make Out With my Desire.

 

A tale of lust and thrust, this space-age yarn is one small step for contemporary men’s lit., one giant cumshot for humankind.

 

See, some female authors can’t deal with that. There should’ve been more authors like the chick who wrote The Hardy Boys, but in a more romantic way. You could tell she wanted the Hardy boys to fondle her fiery grotto by the passion with which they played with one another. And you know who else would have scripted a raunchy and stimulating romance novel? Ayn Rand. I bet that lady could write a fan-fiction that would strain your mushroom, or loosen your rubberband, for damn sure. But instead there are too many homely bitches like Jane Austen. In closing, Jane Austen was a homely thespian.”