People who tend to read a lot of books will know this. Boys in books are so amazing. Even the imperfections end up making the boys even more perfect. They flirt in ways that are adorable, and we grow to understand the workings of the boys of books' minds. We get them. And then you get in the real world, and boys around you don't act like they do in books. Let's face it. The boys around me act nothing like they are supposed to as the YA books have taught me over time. Is it any wonder that I am still single? Books have ruined me.
YA books are filled to the brim with "meant to be's" and insta-love, and fated love, and starcrossed lovers, and loves that shouldn't have been and yet they are. In every single one of those books, the girl just seems to know exactly what to say, the boy is perfect for whatever the situation calls for. Boys are written to be swooney and perfect for the girl in question. Problem is, I can't just pick up a pen and write myself the boy of my dreams and actually have him in front of me. And my past has proven to me that when I try to talk to a boy that I like, my mouth can open to gibberish that may pass as sarcasm but most likely is heard as psycho babble. Luckily, I have gotten better about that the older I've gotten. Probably because I have mellowed out a lot more. Fact is, life isn't a YA book. And boys aren't characters in those books. The "perfect boy" doesn't really exist. It stinks. It really does. Alas, I will live, but I hope I am not the only one that books have ruined.