A Rare Sight: (Sexy) Men and Fiction

Isn't this picture a dream? A man, reading a novel, in bed?

Recently, I said I have never really met a man that is totally into fiction, most men like non-fiction business books.

A friend said she has met one but he was taken and I had a flashback.

I have met a man that loved fiction once. Oh it started as a normal, average day. I went to my regular Book Shop to get some new books and I saw this man, seemed to be in his 40's, just sitting quietly by the side and reading.

I paid him no mind and was jejely selecting my books. I noticed the book seller had sold off all the popular authors and I was getting pissed. He should have called me when the new shipment came in.

I asked the seller, "What about Julie Garwood? Teresa Medeiros? Julia Quinn? Sophie Kinsella? Eloisa James?..." I was just calling names and names and the man was looking at me with interest.

It turned out that there were very few good books left and I was disappointed. So the man asked me "Its like you love reading romance oh."

I said " Yes na" defensively. I thought he was one of those men that only read thrillers or business books.

He laughed and said "Oh, you should have come on Monday. That was when those books were here, I bought about five new Julie Garwood and  Catherine Coulter."

Eh! I was shocked. He picked up one book by Julia Quinn and he said "I have all the books in these series in my house. Plenty of them. If you see my library eh,"

My mouth watered as i began to imagine rows and rows of books, just for me. I heard myself say, "Where do you stay?" without concern for my safety. At all. My plan was to stand outside his gate while he gets the books.

He just laughed and said, "You can't come to my house. My wife does not like that."

Respect!

I know boundaries when I see one so I didn't push it. It was obvious that a lot of girls have been dying for his library and his wife was tired of gushing, fawning, fangirls who can easily use their shared love for books to 'catch' her husband.

He must have seen the disappointment on my face, he picked up one big 'Robert Ludlum' book and handed it to me. "Since you couldn't find much romance books, why don't you try out this book? Robert Ludlum is one of my favourite authors."

I looked at the big Hard Cover book, a spy thriller. Of course I accepted and when I wanted to pay for it, he refused and he paid for it himself.

I have never met him again but he was like an angel, a rare sight for my sore eyes.

Please, men who read fiction, where art thou hiding thyselves?