cheers to the literati date

This is probably the nth blog post on "You should Date an Illiterate Girl by Charles Warnke but since this piece bleeds with so much passion, I just had to re post this (never mind if I am becoming an insignificant fan). Check out the full piece but here to me are the best parts:

> Date a girl who doesn’t read. .... Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in film. Remark at its lack of significance.

> Find shared interests and common ground like sushi, and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale, or the evenings get long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking.

> Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.

> Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn’t, smile all the same. - darn, how exciting can this get?

> Let the years pass unnoticed... Fail, frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis... Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal.. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn’t read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives...

> Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads.

> Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent as a life unfulfilled...A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much.

> A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie.

> But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.

> Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are the storytellers... The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life that I told of at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being storied.

> So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. I hate you. I really, really, really hate you.

To all the Mr. Warnkes out there, go forth, end feigning that masochism (it isn't funny fooling yourself let alone telling the girl you actually love that you hate her), chase that train and escape to dreamland with the girl who reads. Perhaps become what you are not or morph to be the better version of yourself. If you can, build a new 'you' graciously with her... for there is nothing more splendid than a life worthy of being storied.