Before I share, let me tell you about this book. I love it. I love the new neighbor who used to work in Hollywood and has all these awesome old dresses that belonged to movie stars long dead. I love the main character who is so just plain off the wall, loves old movies, has her issues and is not afraid to share them, well, not really. I love her super over-protective mom who cares about her daughter even if she does make a big deal about the small things. I love the guy who has come into he main character's life - he's just perfect.
Perfect. More like "perfect." Have you ever met someone and thought that he/she was just perfect - not perfect, but perfect for you - like there's just something about this person that keeps him/her in your thoughts constantly, that you know that you would care about him/her no matter what, no matter what they decide to do with their lives, even if they were to lose a limb or have some medical condition ... it didn't matter as long as you were with them??
Ok. So dude has Tourette's - screams out "moron," has a ear thing he does, clears his throat really loud - yet she feels this way about him, that it doesn't matter that he has "issues" (I have "issues" so I call anything that anyone has that takes them away from that "beautiful people" crowd "issues" - and, let's face it, we all have them).
"I want to do all the wrong things," I said, raising my head from
I spread my arms out to the sky. "I want to smoke, and drink,
and scream, and eat ice cream until I throw up, and rob a bank,
and run away to Canada..."
"How long can you go on like this?" he laughed.
"I'm not sure about the bank, but I think I can help you with the
other things," he said. "Wait here, I'll be back in ten minutes."
*happy sigh* Perfect.
Even more perfection ...
Even more perfection ...
"I just wanted to tell you how much this means to me, how much
you mean to me. I'm in love with you, Ruby. I'm in love with
everything about you. And I know I'm messed up, and I know that
you deserve better than a messed up, f&$%ed up guy with a dead
sister and a ghostly mother and all other s%&#ty stuff, and I know
that I should probably just turn around and spare you from my chaos
and pain, but I can't. I can't ... because I love you. I guess that's
selfish, but that's how it is. I love you."
Why can't men be like that anymore? Most of them are so afraid to share even the tiniest bit of feeling, but this guy ...
(I know, I know - a gal wrote the book - but men could totally learn from this gal. Just sayin'.)