I was reading on the train the other morning, and during one of my many contemplative stares-into-space while I absorbed Barbara Kingsolver’s brilliance, I noticed a couple sit down across from me, both pull out a book and start reading in companionable silence. Seeing this made me wonder how my life would be different if I was dating a fellow page-turner. Would life be better or is two book nerds too many for one relationship?
I would definitely miss the look of amazement on my boyfriend’s face when I snap a book shut on finishing, having started it just hours prior, but imagine how much faster I could have read it if he didn’t expect me to do something crazy, like talk to him every now and then.
All I need to keep me occupied for hours, days, months even, is a few sheets of paper and a comfy perch. But my non-reading partner? Well, he needs consoles or nature or structures to be stimulated. I can spend an entire weekend in our apartment reading and feel like I’ve been all over the city/the globe/the universe, but every hour he spends inside is just that, an hour inside.
There are definitely times when I can see the benefits of having a bookish partner – like when I finish a book that I absolutely loved or loathed, it would be good to have someone to gush or seethe to – someone who truly knows the pleasure and pain that reading can bring.
But I do worry that if he was as much of an avid reader as I am, if he too liked nothing better than to bury his nose in a book, we’d almost never leave the apartment – although, I’d have to admit, that doesn’t sound terrible.
What do you think? Should booknerds be allowed to date?
Categories: Book life