From Katie, who digs it when a guy can get down with her, book-wise:
Do you remember in Beauty and the Beast when the Beast gives Belle the epic library? I’m going to be honest: That scene may have caused me to wonder why I ever considered bestiality unacceptable. If I were Belle, I would have been all over that hairy/dog-boar-man-thing in thirty seconds while all the enchanted candles and clocks watched.
I adore books and it’s my dream to have an incredible library. Basically, my books are like little pieces of me and without them I would feel super lonely. I think this stems from all the time I spent being a social outcast in school, and there are many nights when I’d rather take a hefty novel to bed than some idiot guy. I might as well get some sort of stimulation, right?
But, there are those rare and glorious moments when a guy comes along who actually reads, and in turn wants to read a book that I recommend. When this happens I feel like Ron Swanson does when he has a glass of scotch and a giant slab of steak. I feel like everything is right in this horrible, horrible world.
There’s nothing quite as awesome as a dude borrowing one of my books and it’s obvious that he’s read it. I don’t even care if he hated it, because at least he took the time to try and get to know something I care about. It’s like those times I try to watch hockey with him even though I don’t understand anything about it. I am trying, and when he reads one of my books I feel like he’s trying, too.
Holy shit! He read the book I told him to read!
Don’t even get me started on those once-in-a-lifetime moments when a guy actually recommends a book to me that isn’t "The Catcher in the Rye" or some Jack London bullshit. Now, that’s some pure Disney magic I can get down with.