I have practically experienced these two.
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 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.”
— Rosemarie Urquico
“Date a girl who drinks. Date a girl who knows how to have fun. And by fun, meaning there’s almost always alcohol involved. Date a girl who knows how to let loose, how to go wild. Date the girl who would let the tequila take over once in a while, because a girl who drinks knows she’s just human, and that it’s acceptable to not be in control all the time.
You might bump into her in the club. Dancing with her girlfriends, a beer raised in one hand and a cigarette on the other, while her hips certainly not lying. She’ll be dressed very provocatively in a little black dress with a pair of snake skin 6-inch killer heels. Watch her and you’d see a girl living her life ludicrously, surrounded by her friends who would eventually leave to ‘go home’ with some guy they just met.
Go up to her and introduce yourself. Buy her a drink. If she orders a Scotch neat, applaud her, and give yourself a pat on the back because a girl like her doesn’t come around often. Dance with her, hold her close. Feel her body pressed onto yours, your breath mixing with hers. Learn to let go. Let go of yourself. The same way she let goes and let the alcohol win. She will look at you with lustful eyes, her hands gripping your shirt instead of vodka. She would lick her lips and look at yours under those heavy curled eyelashes. Kiss her. Then take her outside, by the back door. Leave her breathless.
Or if not, you’ll see her in your local pub, sitting alone by the bar with a bottle of whiskey. She’s probably been there for a while, on her third glass or so. Sit two stools away from her and then ask her whether she thinks the bottle is half empty or half full. Stare into her eyes because you would see that she’s thinking, not with her mind, but with her heart. Then instead of answering, she would smile that little smile, and offer you a drink. Sit beside her for the rest of the night. Don’t make a move on her just yet, because a girl who drinks is also a girl who knows when a guy is interested. She’s probably have encountered countless of those. So a guy who’s being real, not trying to impress, is absolutely a breath of fresh air.
Try to get her number. Because a girl who drinks doesn’t make her a girl who sleeps around —as the stereotype would go. She deserves more than drunk sex and the sneaking out the morning after, avoiding breakfast, avoiding complications. She deserves more than half-assed texts and booty calls. She deserves more than the promised “I’ll call you” that never comes. She deserves more than lust. She deserves more than love. Because a girl like her doesn’t rely on love alone. She’s smarter than that.
May it be luck or fate playing with you that you meet this girl, take a chance on her because chance is all you’ve got. She might not be the one but she’s one in a million. Yes, there are other girls out there —decent, principled, better even. And this girl right here is the embodiment of incompetence, carelessness, and concupiscence. But she will make your wildest dreams come true, that none of your prim and proper girlfriends would ever dare to do.
Don’t trust this girl because she will betray you. But trust this girl because it’s a big risk to. She will be unfaithful to you for she had and will screw other men like she had screwed you. She doesn’t expect you to stick around for long anyway, so don’t assume she’d commit. She will call you up only when she’s bored, bored of her friends, bored of her work, bored of her life. She would come running to you only because she needs something, something new, something different, something real. She’s selfish like that.
Don’t fall in love with this girl because she won’t do you any good. But love this girl for reasons you cannot understand. She won’t encourage you to do what’s best for you, instead she will seduce you into immorality. She will fuck you up and mess with your head. And when you’re lost in thought, overpowered by your own fears and feelings, she will be there for you. She will knock on your door at two in the morning with a 6-pack Heineken. She will say cheers with you and drown with you, because she knows how it feels to be alone, to have no one but alcohol to turn to. She will stay, let you get drunk in your problems, then she’ll drag you across the floor into your bed, tuck you in and kiss you goodnight.
Don’t worry about this girl because she’s certainly not thinking about you. But worry about this girl because she knows she can survive —and that’s the greatest threat she could ever hold against herself. Worry about her because she’s so used to detaching herself from everything and everyone around her. Instead of depending on liquor, show her that it’s okay to depend on someone for once. She probably won’t give up alcohol for you, but she will let you in in her impaired world. She would spill all her secrets and expect you to not care. She would cry to you and rant on her pointless existence. And then she would laugh, like nothing ever went wrong. And then she would thank you. She may not remember everything you said the morning after, but she would remember that you were with her. And for this girl, that is more than enough.
When you find this girl, run away. Run away from her. This is the kind of girl your mother warned you about. She has nothing to offer you but a shitload of baggage her life is cluttered with. Because a girl who drinks knows reality. She knows how fucked up everything and everyone is. A girl who drinks is just a girl looking for escape. Be her escape.
When you find this girl, run away. Run away with her. This is the kind of girl your father fell in love with but didn’t marry. She has nothing to offer you but the great elation of being under the influence. She’s a whirlwind of sober thoughts and drunk judgement combined. She definitely won’t give you a bright future, but she would leave you a memorable past. And in the short time you would spend with her, she will give you one thing in return —she would be your escape.
Years later, she will crash your wedding, intoxicated. She will call for a toast —a bottle of whiskey raised— for you and your beautiful bride, retelling all the drunk nights you can’t remember and all the crazy sex you had t your life one last time as your betrothed exits the church in tears. She will curse the priest and all your quintessential guests in the house of your God, laughing as the security tries to escort her out. She’ll blow you one last kiss before she disappears out the door, out of your life. Then you’ll find yourself smiling and running, not after your perfect wife-to-be, but after that damaged girl who drinks —that bitch who wrecked your life. You’d see her sitting two steps down, dressed very provocatively in a little white dress, a pair of leopard skin 6-inch killer heels in hand, and the whiskey on the other. You call out to her and ask her why. She would turn around, stare into your eyes, wondering if you think that it’s wrong, or do feel that this is right. She would take a swig. And then she would answer you, and tell you that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter whether the bottle is half empty or half full. What matters is there’s half left —and that half is yours.
Then she would smile that little smile, and offer you a drink.
Aprajita Roy Paul.