I started writing a post about being 30 and single (which is both awesome and exhausting, much like being in a relationship at any age), but I became distracted by The Rory Gilmore Reading Challenge (thanks to my college friends for posting it on Facebook within mere moments of its creation).
Anyone who watched any of the seven seasons of The Gilmore Girls knows that Rory Gilmore loved a good book. In scrolling through her character’s eclectic and sophisticated tastes, I had a sudden epiphany—
I need to read more books and go on less dates.
I’ve gone on more dates this year than I probably have in all of my previous years of life combined. Two thirds of them have been via online platforms—and I’ve met some really interesting, intelligent and totally not-scary people through the world wide web. I even recently downloaded Tinder, against my feelings of skeptical doom that it would be a creep-fest (it’s not).
The thing is—in my effort to go on more dates, the novelty of the first date has worn off. And the pressure of a second date is too high for me to consider. I’m in first-date burnout, second-date commitment-avoidance no-man’s land.
So, I’m turning to the books.
Of the 339 books Rory was seen reading, I think I’ve read 54 of them. But I listened to The Secret Life of Bees on tape, so I’m not sure if that counts. And if I remember correctly, I never finished As I Lay Dying because it was ridiculously depressing.
I’d like to say I’m going to jump right back into reading with something like The Portable Nietzsche, but I started Mindy Kaling’s Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me (And Other Concerns) a few months back and recently found it in my suitcase. I’m going to start by finishing that one.