I love my books. Not that I ever wrote one, mind you. I love books I own. I love to see them neatly arranged on the shelf; to see them slowly growing into a collection, resembling a personal library that is essential for my ego boost.
I also hoard books, meaning that I don’t want to lose them (except the bad ones). That is why every time someone asks me if they can borrow one of my books I always feel slightly worried that they might not return it.
Once, my co-worker said that he wanted to borrow a book I was reading (Ian McEwan’s Enduring Love–great book!). I told him I would lend him the book after I finished it. I never do because as far as I can see he didn’t read the book he bought several days before. It’s still there untouched, gathering dust on his desk. That’s cruel and I don’t want the same thing happen to my book. Even if he would read it, I believe he wont return it. Luckily, he seemed to forget that he wanted to borrow my book. Later, my other co-worker told me that he lent his book to this person and never got it back. My judgement was right. Oh, and poor him.
The thing is, I’m a nice person. I would never say no when someone asks me if I can lend them my books. I would always say “Of course!” with a huge smile on my face. But I wish I could always ask these questions to anyone who wants to borrow my precious collection.