As people, we tend to set standards of our own for every aspect of our lives. There are also times we break those standards even though we ourselves create them. This confession is a story of a time, I broke a standard I set for myself. This particular story is not one I thought I would ever reveal. But I have realized over time that as embarrassed of it as I am, I also find it as something I can look back on and laugh.
I pride myself as a book lover, however, my reading habits are not exactly common in most readers. Ages ago, one of those habits came back to bite. If my memory doesn't fail me, this story takes place when I was in fifth grade. This was the time for me when I first got into reading. I flew through giant books in a matter of hours, rather than days. Till this day I have no clue how I managed that. All that reading, of course, made the impressionable little me treat a favorite book as the gospel truth and demand friends to read them as well. After all, how could they possibly go on without the enlightenment?
One summer day after weeks and weeks of brainwashing, I had finally convinced my best friend to read a book that I loved so dearly. It took her about a week, an odd piece of memory that for some reason still exists, but after she was done I couldn't wait to fangirl over all of the parts that I loved. Bash all the characters I hated. We talked for a good part of an hour before she dropped a complete bomb on me. I do not recall her exact words but it went something like this:
"It is very interesting how They included an LGBT plot line."
Wait, what? I was SO confused. Now the words themselves hold no specific importance other than the fact that they are true to the actual event. The real point here is that I truly had no clue as to what she was talking about. I swear that at the time the book was my absolute favorite. Yet SHE knew more about it than I did.
What happened is that I am and have always been an impatient reader. If I fall in love with a plot point, I sometimes have a tendency to skip over sentences or paragraphs - in my earlier years even chapters. Well, it turns out that in that horrible habit of mine, I missed an ENTIRE SUB-PLOT. To make matters worse, by that point I had read the book twice and still had no idea that part of it existed.
I was embarrassed. In that moment I pretended that I knew exactly what she was talking about. Even though I was lying through my teeth. It took me eight years to own up to that deed and admit the bluff to her. We laughed it off. She playfully made fun of me for a while but we have moved now. Sometimes that story still comes up at our get-togethers. We laugh. I blush. Then life goes on.
I wish I could tell you that that experience had thought me an important life lesson. That I no longer skip boring parts. Yet that would be a lie. Although, I am proud to say that I have never since skipped an entire plot line. As small of a victory as that might seem to everyone else, it is one that I hold close to my heart.
That is all I have for today. Thank you for reading this confession.