It is hard to name a more harrowing experience than the one I had this morning, when my very selfhood was questioned. I ran into an old friend on the bus as she was reading a book and remarked that I, too, am a fan of the practice – reading, that is. As soon as I informed her that I love to read and saw admiration glint in her eyes, however, she hit me with a devastating question: “What are you reading right now?”
What the fuck? How about you mind your business? I never said I was reading right now.
“Oh, you know, I’m kind of between things,” I immediately lied. I began desperately trying to remember every book I’d read in the last five years, and quickly realized there were only two: Normal People and The Convenience Store Woman, which I only read because the font is super big, and it’s only, like, 92 pages.
Didn’t she understand that I really only read a book when I want to have finished a book? Is this not a universal experience? Doesn’t she know that “reading something right now” is a hobby reserved for the gentry and religious leaders? I decided it was best to name a book, any book, that I’d ever heard of.
“I’m at the beginning of The Secret History,” I said confidently, banking on the fact that she’d be satisfied. Little did I know, she wanted me to know the book inside and out, asking me absolutely insane questions that I couldn’t possibly know.
“What’s it about?” she asked, smug. She must have known I couldn’t possibly answer such an A-level, highbrow question. She must have wanted me dead.
“You know…college,” I answered, praying that was kind of correct. I hoped this would be the end of it, but she was unrelenting, pestering me about the nitty-gritty with that shit-eating grin on her face, what others might call “a kind smile.”
“Cool! Do you like it?” she taunted. What an absolute bitch. Doesn’t she know that “liking reading” is the kind of trait everyone has but no one ever demonstrates, like “being able to play guitar” and “being really good at Settlers of Catan”?
“Mmhm!” I answered convincingly. Too easy.
Luckily, we arrived at her stop, and the ceaseless interview had to end. We said our goodbyes and I continued on the bus, crisis averted. I made a mental note to read 35 pages of a book some time soon so this would never happen to me again. Stay safe out there, kindred spirits.
