I’d rather spend my weekend reading in my pajamas than going clubbing in an uncomfortable dress. That should make me a total catch, but life doesn’t work like that. This is why it’s so hard for bookworms like me to find a boyfriend:
My standards are sky high.
How can real men compare to my favorite fictional characters, characters who will enter wars and risk their lives in order to win a woman over? I’m embarrassed to say that my obsession with reading has made me lose my grasp on reality, just a little bit. I’m expecting a man to skip past the mind games and admit that he’s madly in love with me. Of course, that’s never going to happen. Not in this day and age. That’s why I always end up disappointed.
Texting can make or break the relationship.
If he shortens all of his words and has poor grammar, I’m not going to be able to have a conversation with him. I’ll get frustrated by how often he’s using “than” when he should be using “then,” and he’ll get annoyed by my constant corrections. After one or two conversations, we’ll end up loathing each other.
I want to be taken on romantic bookstore dates.
I don’t care if it’s cliche. I want to hold my boyfriend’s hand while browsing through libraries and independent bookshops. I can’t date someone who is going to beg me to pick something and get it over with already, so that we can leave and head to the bar. I want someone who won’t mind spending more money on books than on beer. Someone who will sit crosslegged on the floor and read opening passages to me. Someone who will help me find the perfect book and then fuck me against the bookshelf.
He needs to love reading as much as I do.
He doesn’t have to read a new novel every week. But if he’s the type who brags about how he hasn’t picked up a book since he graduated high school, then there’s no way in hell that I can date him. It’s not cool to be illiterate. If he doesn’t read, then how am I supposed to discuss my favorite authors with him? I want someone who will suggest new books for me to read and ask if they can borrow a copy of my favorite works. Trading opinions about Netflix originals is fun, but it isn’t enough for me.
I want him to treat me as well as I treat him.
Romance isn’t my favorite genre, but I’ve still read stories about hundreds of couples over the years. I know what types of relationships are healthy and what types are unhealthy. That’s why I expect my boyfriend to treat me with respect. To take me out on thoughtful dates. To call me beautiful and actually mean it. If he can’t do those simple things, then I can’t be with him. I’ve read about love enough times to know what it entails. If he’s not willing to treat me right, then he doesn’t like me enough to date me.
I need someone who understands my pain.
I can’t be with someone who rolls their eyes when I cry over fictional characters. “You know it’s not real, right?” are my least favorite words. I need someone who understands how important stories are to me, even if they’re meant for younger audiences. And when a movie fucks up an adaptation, I want him to listen to me rant about all of the things that the script got wrong. Basically, I want him to accept that books are just as important to me as he is.