Tuesday, January 16, 2007
not into me?
There are things that I do that I have always done. Like I've said, I am a creature of habit and as such, I find comfort in rituals. One of those things that I have always done is hang out at bookstores. One of the things that I have always done while in the US is hang out at Barnes and Noble. That, my friends, is my idea of heaven.
One of the things I like most about hanging out at B&N is that there is never a dull moment. Not only do you meet interesting literate people while browsing the aisles, when you are not lucky enough to find some of those you can pick up a book, start reading and nobody will say anything. I must confess that I have read plenty of books that way- some books are just not worth their sticker price, sometimes I have way too much time on my hands or sometimes spending money on anything more than a cup of coffee seems unnecessary.
In any case, today I spent a good chunk of the afternoon browsing the aisles and today for the first time I felt the urge to pick up a book I have always known existed but have never felt the desire to read: He's Just Not That Into You.
I read it cover to cover and now I know why I never wanted to read it.
I don't know why I picked it up to begin with and I don't know to what extent what it says are absolute truths that go unnoticed or mere assumptions put down on paper by two people who see the world as merely black and white. The fact of the matter is that I read it and parts of it stung. After I read it, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was a stupid woman and that maybe there are no such things as circumstances but a series of behaviors that can only be defined in black and white terms.
And it's bugging the hell out of me. Very few books have left me with such a feeling of inadequacy. Very few people have led me to question my knowledge of the male mind because considering that I was raised among them, I thought I could write the Cliffs Notes. But at this very moment I don't really know anymore and it's a general feeling of ignorance not limited to my relationships with lovers but with my relationships with men in general.
Ivan didn't call me back today. Does that mean that he doesn't care?
Gus hasn't mailed me my stuff. Does that mean that I'm not important enough?
Dan hasn't written this week. Does that mean that he forgot about me?
X-man doesn't want me to text message him. Does that mean that he doesn't want me in his life?
I now question my brothers and my friends even though I know that the book was written to make sense of potential mates. And don't even get me started on everything I've thought about HWMNBN...
Someone said that ignorance is bliss. This I have always believed to be true. BUt when learning something makes you feel ignorant, you can't be blissful. I have nothing left to feel but stupid because I question things that are set in stone as truths such as that my brothers love me as do my friends.
This is a terrible book. Don't read it.
Posted by annush at 7:46 PM