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Date a Girl Who Reads

The Girl Who Reads

This wasn’t the post I intended on sharing today. However a good friend and fellow bookworm passed along this delightful quote that sparked my interest and desire to write about one of my favourite pastimes: reading.

I’ve highlighted my favourite bits, which I also find incredibly relevant to my own style. (Especially the part about coffee. I can’t even start to tell you how many times I’ve re-heated the same cold cup because I forget to take a sip I’m so engrossed in my book!).

You should date a girl who reads.
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who 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 has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

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, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and 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 read understand that all things must come to end, but 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 Twilight series.

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 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.
Rosemarie Urquico

My apartment is filled with books. I’ve no dinner plates, just three mismatched forks, and guests drink from jam jars when they visit. But my selection of literature makes up for my poor choice of silverware and dishes.

A few of my keepsake authors whose books I’ve lent out so many times I’m not even sure if they still hold space on my shelves, include:


Everything by David Sedaris is a great beach read, as is A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan and anything by Haruki Murakami (currently working my way through Kafka on the Shore).

I’ve read the works of Ayn Rand and Anne Marie Macdonald so many times I could reenact entire passages with the panache of each character. Vladimir Nabokov never fails to draw tears. If you want to indulge in a tragic love story- skip Romeo & Juliet and go read Lolita.

And Donna Tartt. The Goldfinch and The Secret History took me weeks to read, and not because they’re quite long or I didn’t have the time, but because I didn’t want the story to end. I saved the last five pages of each novel and read one paragraph at a time for two days. And then I cried when I was done. Because when I finish one of Tartt’s novels, I feel lonely. Like a piece of me has left the room.

That’s the mark of a good book, my friends.



Header image by Jordan Sanchez via StockSnap


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