"What are you reading?"
It was something by Leonard Cohen that I had never heard of. Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America rested and waited not far away.
"What are you reading?"
"How To Build a Backyard Horseshoe Pit." (Not that I have any intention of ever building a backyard horseshoe pit, but I like to know I know how should a friend ever ask me to help him build his own backyard horseshoe pit.)
"So what was the last book you read?"
I want to lie and say something deep like Tolkien (who, incidentally, I can't stand) or Dostoyevsky or Proust or Hemingway...even Stephen King is more impressive than the truth.
But she's beautiful and when I look at her I say the scariest words most women would ever want to hear:
"Rise of Lord Vader. It's a Star Wars novel."
My secret shame is on the table. I am a Star Wars Geek.
But she's not like most women and she asks me what it's about.
