“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”—Rosemary Urquico
We get off the train. All I’ve been able to think about for 2+ hours is how badly I have to pee. The walk is cold. I get the tour. I open the door to the bathroom. Someone has left their bike behind. I almost forget how badly I have to pee.
My mother and I just successfully finished season one of the Tudors and caught the last 35 minutes of Kathy Griffin. Successful evening, I would say.
School trip tomorrow to Boston and having lunch in the park, working, thinking about going to Dan’s but most likely bailing on that, SAT class the next morning, video editing with Kenny and Jess, Saturday in Boston (JP specifically, if I felt like being obnoxious), home Sunday afternoon with hopefully nowhere else to go.
In case you wanted an update on my less than thrilling social life.
You know there’s a problem when you start saying things like “Getting into bed with the Tudors” or “Eating dinner with the Tudors” in response to “What are you up to” as if they were real, live people.
If it were so..having casual sex with Catherine of Aragon. Night.
Standing at my locker after school today when Mr. Twining walks over and starts talking to a boy passing by in the hall. He asks, “How do you think you did on that last assignment, Jarred?” Jarred replies, “Uh, I think I did good.” Then Mr. Twining turns around with this fiery/demon/possessed look in his eyes and shoots back, “You can’t do good, mostly because it isn’t a verb. Don’t worry though, you can still do well because it’s a valid adjective.” Meanwhile I’m having a major grammar orgasm. No big deal.