When I was a teenager, all of the books I read about romance never actually described the female character being attracted to the male character. It was all about being “overwhelmed” by him and “surrounded” by him, maybe even “helpless to stop” whatever he might be doing. Never once did she admire his backside which is just…just a tragedy.
Now any description of actual attraction I write in for my leading lady towards her leading man seems almost transgressive.
That’s how het romance has shaped me as a writer and why, IMO, my gay romances—unburdened by ANY prior influence(which is its own problem)—turn out so much more loving so much more easily.