Mr. Monster, the second book of the John Cleaver trilogy by Dan Wells, was perhaps thematically not the best book for Valentine's Day. It's a horror book about a teenage sociopath who is unhealthily fascinated with serial killers. (I'll probably be writing a more comprehensive review of the series soon.) Knowing this full well, this was the book I took with me when I went to dinner (alone) at St. Louis Bread Company, with the intention of sitting around the restaurant reading for two or three hours (alone) after dinner.
Dinner was pretty nice, too. I found a table in a corner, figuring it would be a nice place to sit and read, but still keep an eye on the whole restaurant—you know, in case one of them turned out to be horrifying psychopathic serial killers like the monsters in the book. What I didn't account for was the gaggle of a half-dozen middle aged women the next table over. They arrived a little before me, and sat there the whole time, loudly failing the Bechdel Test, talking about failed dates and that nice guy from church who "just wants someone to go to the theater with." I eavesdropped without really trying as I finished my meal (that salad was HUGE! And the menu said that deal came with a half salad? What are the full salads like??), then took my book and my drink to the other end of the restaurant. The women were still at that table when I left hours later.
So anyway, I had a good evening. I think I'd like to do a little more reading before bed, though, so good night for now.