Every fibre of my being wanted to fall in love with this book.
Reading it was like the first time meeting someone after weeks of flirtation on a dating site. They're smart, funny, you get each other's jokes, like the same stuff, travel in the same circles, and you both don't see the point of cucumbers.
So the big day comes along, you're nervous as hell, and you've booked a table at a pretentious, over-priced restaurant because there'll be no hipsters or rap music. You smile dully at some girl waving to one of her friends behind you, while you picture what your date's going to look like in person. It's only when the girl starts calling your name that you realise that she is your date.
Intellectually you appreciate all the things that drew you together in the first place but no matter how many glasses of wine you use to manage your expectations, you still wish you could be at home cataloguing books.
But, like the good little Calvinist that I am, I will go an a second date with "The Drawing of the Three" and hope that I am slightly more taken with my date. Or for a damn good cellar.