My parents never taught me about sex. And unless they’re waiting for my thirty-fifth birthday I don’t think they’re going to.
[He was] the first guy to leave me a note on my bed telling me he couldn’t wait to see me again so I would find it when I came home from work. The first guy to find toilet paper in my butt. The first guy who ever said he loved me.
I wanted to die because I was so nervous, but at the same time I felt like I would kill myself if he didn’t kiss me. Some complex feelings for a sweet, simple, teenage Republican.
This book started off so strong–I thought it could only get better and better, like a great joke that keeps building until you’re giggling before you even know the punch line, because you just know it’s going to be hilarious.
Except it wasn’t.
My Boyfriend Wrote a Book About Me by Hilary Winston fits into the same comedian, funny female writers group as Tina Fey, Jenny Lawson, and others. But Bossypants and Let’s Pretend This Never Happened were able to keep the momentum going where Winston just made me feel sorry for her. It was uncomfortable, sad, and depressing.
Don’t get me wrong, there were good parts, especially at the beginning, and I kept going thinking that the next story would be a positive one, one where she starts to like herself, respect herself, and stop being so in love with her cats. But we never got there. It was pretty disappointing.
It also felt vulgar just for the sake of being vulgar as opposed to be funny. I’m definitely no prude, I love a good dirty joke and laugh at inappropriate things quite often, but the way she wrote it felt like she was going for shock value as opposed to the words actually being necessary.
My favorite part in the whole book is the last paragraph in “I Know You’re in There, Whore!” It’s about wishing for your past, your high school days where everything was perfect at the time, you just didn’t know it yet. She puts into words the feelings I have about those days. Those times where you didn’t realize how good you had it until now because you’re an adult and grown and you wanted to change so fast and you wish it was all back. That pretty much sums up my whole life: wishing away the part I’m in right now, waiting anxiously for the next one, and then dreaming about how it was. Life! Why you be so crazy?!
I actually feel slightly guilty saying this book wasn’t that great. I wanted to like Winston, wanted her to tell me her (ex-)boyfriend’s name and his book, tell me who the guy in “The Pre-Famous Dude” is, and lots of other Hollywood writer secrets that she elludes to. I wanted this book to be about dishing dirt and from the back cover it made it sound that way.
I don’t think the book lived up to the back cover. Although I’m sure lots of people love this book. I just found it depressing and hopeless and not full of learning or growing. And I think that’s what Winston needs.
Have you read My Boyfriend Wrote a Book About Me? Am I crazy for thinking this? Tell me what you think!
DISCLOSURE: AFFILIATE LINKS USED.