I Flashed My Book at a Bar: Hot girl reads in public, panics

by Frida Hammershøy

I guess most people, well at least most people who enjoy reading a book, know what it’s like to carry around a book, thinking that during the day, multiple occasions for reading will arise, and one will casually whip out the book and look effortlessly cool reading in a public space. I do that almost daily, and let me tell you, the occasion never presents itself. Don’t get me wrong, I have whipped out the book (although I’m not sure how casual I was), but I don’t think I’ve looked as cool as I wanted. I certainly did not feel as cool as I was hoping for, and let me explain why: 

There are many problems with reading in public, and one of the more important ones is my setup. If I have to wait for someone at a bar and I decide to whip out my book, first I have to overcome the challenge of finding a table. Preferably it would be outside, not too much in the sun, but also not too dark, and ideally slightly shielded from the wind. It’s mostly after finding a table that my fear starts to take off. I have to get some kind of beverage, but to order the beverage, I have to leave my stuff to reserve the table I just so carefully picked out (or if the bar is full, had to walk very fast to get to). Which things do I leave at the table? Everything except my money that I need to order? And do I take out the book when I come back, or should I leave it out, unattended so that the surrounding people can see that I’m about to partake in some intellectual activity that they are not practicing, at least not at that given moment? And then, once I have my drink I can finally put in my headphones, and find some kind of low-fi music to protect me from the conversations happening around me, and make me slightly more able to actually start reading. 

When, or if, I actually start reading it always takes a while to get into it. As we know about many other things, the beginning is the most difficult part. Too many things happening around – a bad date at the table next to me, where I need to listen a bit to what they’re saying, but pretend to read at the same time. Someone might be talking too loud, and why is it that people can’t regulate the tone of their voice in a public space? And then there is of course always someone asking me for a lighter, which throws me off my reading once again. This ritual of settling into my surroundings and dealing with my anxieties usually takes maybe 10 minutes, reading the same few sentences over and over again, feeling like a broken record. 

Well, then what if other people are looking at me? 

A new problem with reading outside is the online exposure of the internet-archetype, the performative male. Now, the difference between me and the performative male is, first of all, I’m no male. I also wouldn’t describe myself as performative, but people around me don’t know that. I also don’t believe that the performative male would describe himself as performative, and that is exactly where the problem lies. While we, non-performative non-males can judge the performative male from a distance, it means that other people (being performative males or not), can judge us too. If I happen to read a book in public, perhaps at a bar, waiting for someone, other people might deem me a poseur, for reading, let’s say Dostoyevsky. Now the thing is, I just happen to really like Dostoyevsky, and am in no way trying to get laid, unlike the guy reading bell hooks in the park. 

If I feel that other people are looking at me, deeming me poser or not, it affects the ability to relax and enjoy the book. The constant thoughts of “how do I look sitting here? Do they think I don’t have any friends, since I’m here by myself? What if they think my choice of book sucks?”, which could cause me to pay too much attention to my surroundings, and how people around look and act, especially if they’re looking my way. It calms me down, knowing that it will end soon – the person I’m waiting for will show up in 20 minutes, so hold out, almost there, keep reading. But obviously the person that I’m waiting for is always late, and always very late. This obviously prolongs my sufferings, making me nervous. The unknown of how long this goes on tears on my confidence, makes me fiddle with the book and the stuff in my bag, which then adds an extra layer of looking like I’m not actually enjoying what I’m doing, I’m not enjoying my book, I might not even understand the book I’m reading, which in that particular moment I’m not, I don’t, I’m anxious and I feel like everybody can see right through me. How do I know if I’m actually understanding what I’m reading?

I’m sitting outside, reading The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky: 

There is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, I recently invested in this crypto called Ethereum, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, yeah it’s like the new Bitcoin, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one's idea for thirty-five years; I also put on a bet on it on Polymarket, there's something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; you can bet on anything, and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas. What is going on? There is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, there is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, …  

Maybe if I read it again it will make more sense this time, I really want to get on with this book, everyone can tell that I’m not understanding, they see me, more than I see myself. 

There is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, I am the idiot, I am Lev Myshkin (without the epilepsy), or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, 

I’m too familiar with this, it is happening again, it is happening again. My brain is crumpling, this is a lost cause… 

If you’re like me, you know this situation too well, or if you want to penetrate the bubble of reading in public, either way I believe you could use some help, so I made this guide on how to succeed in reading in public, just follow the steps and you will have a successful experience, I promise.

As you can tell, I have a vast experience and am a fountain of unpredictable knowledge in general. And as we all know, what doesn't kill you, makes you wronger, whatever that means. Thanks, Nietzsche. Anyway, my friend has finally arrived, forty minutes late as always.

Puts book away