The last 36 hours have been oh so so illuminating. For all you bookish folks out there, do you know when a book can surprise the fuck out of you and you didn't even realize what life was like before? Well, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic, but I did learn what type of person I am.
I learned that in my single-minded pursuit to better myself, I've become critical and all too quick to judge others when I have no right to. I've become wholely unsympathetic and a bit selfish. I've also, possibly unconsciously, hardened my heart to... Well, any of those squishy bits that get all a-mush when open to romantic pursuit. It both thrills and terrifies me to admit that last bit, but I'm glad I've realized it.
I've also learned I'm a TOTAL BADASS sales woman and books allow me my squishy bits to be exposed in a safe manner/ place. And that I have the best connection when I "expose" myself to others in that book environment.
Like a toddler testing itself and its surroundings, I learned that while I'm not all gung-ho about the idea of a relationship (cringe), untimatelly I do want companionship beyond sex. I'm just not that type of girl to sustain a strictly sexual dynamic. I want the challenge intimacy brings, and I'm ready to be ... Well, myself. I'm ready to take the steps to be open, patient, happy, and all the quirks that make up my life. I'm ready to be curious, adventurous, and blissfully satiated (I didn't say I didn't want smashing sex included, I mean, really).
And that book? The culprit of my reevaluation? "I've Got Your Number" by Sophie Kinsella.
Yeah.
I know.
I'm just as shocked as you are.
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