The next night I rested early, and I didn't even have the energy to talk to my roommate because I was too sleepy. I didn't expect to meet her again on the third night of chatting, since there is fate, let's continue to chat. As soon as she came up, she suddenly asked me, "What are your hobbies?" I replied: "There are many hobbies, such as ball games, chess, fitness, swimming, fishing, mountain climbing, a series of them, I can't say endlessly." She said, "It's all active, and I don't like it if it's not quiet." I asked her, "What about your hobbies?" She replied: "Piano, chess, calligraphy and painting, all of which are fine, can be regarded as a hobby." I teased, "It's a pity that I don't like your piano, chess, calligraphy and painting." She seemed a little angry, because the text she had passed was: "It's broken, we can't even find a common hobby, we can't talk." I just realized the seriousness of the matter, if I can't deal with it well, I have to find netizens again. It's costly.

I thought hard, the brain has entered the stage of high-speed operation, and nothing is quieter than reading, from childhood to adulthood, the rest is not easy to say, I still read a lot of books, maybe she likes to read. So I said, "If reading is a hobby, I love reading." Sure enough, she also loves to read. She immediately asked me how much I read and what kind of books I liked to read. I smiled proudly, first typed the word haha, and then typed the following text: too much to remember, let's put it this way, Chinese classics, world classics, if you can't say 100% read, 80% will definitely be fine (obviously bragging, men, all like this, but I haven't blown my head, even if I haven't read the book she said, I still have 20% of the backhand). She said that she didn't expect you to read a lot of books, so what books did you remember the most? It's hard to say that I answered, I haven't thought about it, and I can't say it for a while.

She said, "Well, you've always seen Alexandre Dumas's La Traviata, right?" What do you think of this work? "I've seen this work, it should be high school, or even junior high school, although it left a deep impression on me, but I don't recognize the kind of love that the work celebrates. So I typed in this paragraph: "This is natural, the girl named Mary has been living a debauched life, because she fell in love with a man, she wanted to end this state of life, the man's father could not accept her, in order to make the man no longer love her, she lived a debauched life again, and finally died of debauchery; Some people think it's a great love, but I think it's the result of the romance peculiar to the French, and I can't understand the love that the work professes. After a long time, she replied: "That's how you see love!" I get the feeling you're a bit machismo. "Where and where is this, I don't agree with the love that Dumas wrote, I became a machismo, every day, every day (I forgot that this is the night), is there still truth and justice in this world?! But what can I do, it's good to have a netizen to chat with you, you don't care if what she says is right or not, I'd better deal with it carefully. I said, "Your mind is jumping so fast that I can't keep up, can you explain to me how you can tell I'm a machismo?" She typed "Hehe, you wait patiently for me to explain, I'm not afraid that you won't be convinced", and then entered a long wait.

Her explanation is this: "If it is a man who is determined to change his mind and become a new man for the sake of love, you must approve of him and think that it is the prodigal son who will not change his money; But once you get to the woman, you can't do it, it's a mistake that turns into a thousand years of hatred, and you don't have a chance to reform yourself; A man can still have love when he is debauched, but a woman can't, and even if he has love, in your opinion, it is not pure love, and you can't accept it. ”

After reading this text, my sweat came down, and I suddenly felt a little ashamed, she made sense, could it be that I really had machismo in my subconscious, and I didn't find it myself. But I'm not an easy person to admit defeat, I have to save face, so I turned to offense: "What you said may have some truth, but I really don't see where the greatness of their love is, can you also explain it." "Hehe, I know you're still not convinced", she typed the above words again, and then waited for a long time.

A paragraph popped up on the screen: its great significance is mainly reflected in how far a woman can sacrifice for love. In order to stay with Armand, Marie preferred to give up all her dignity, her luxurious life, everything she had ever had; It was precisely because I loved him and left him willingly for his happiness, but when I left him, I also lost the meaning of life, so I decided to give up myself and just want to die. "La Traviata" reveals a true meaning of love: love is not necessarily possession, sometimes renunciation. If this can't be called great love, what can be called great love?!

I felt sincerely frightened, but at the same time convinced, so I willingly typed in the following sentence: "I accept your words in their entirety, and it is a common problem in my reading that I do not seek to understand them, and I will resolutely change my machismo if there is one." She replied, "I'm glad you said that, but you're turning too fast, it's fun to talk to you, that's all for today, we'll talk about it tomorrow." I shook my head helplessly, and said to the screen dissatisfiedly (it was really talking, she couldn't see it): "It's you who find it interesting, not that I think it's interesting, okay?" You had a good chat, and I was depressed. ”

Actually, where am I machismo? My favorite modern poem is Shu Ting's "To the Oak Tree":

If I love you--

Never like a climbing flower,

Show off yourself by your tall branches:

If I love you--

Never learn from the infatuated birds,

Repeat monotonous songs for the shade;

Nor is it more than a fountain,

Perennial cool comfort;

It's not just like a dangerous peak, increasing your height and setting off your majesty.

Even daylight.

Even spring rains.

No, that's not enough!

I must be a kapok near you,

As the image of the tree stands with you.

roots, clinging to the ground,

Leaves, touching in the clouds.

Every gust of wind passes,

We all greet each other,

But no one

Understands our words.

You have your branches of brass and iron,

Like a sword, like a sword,

also like a halberd,

I have my red flowers,

Like a heavy sigh,

Like a torch of valor,

We share the cold waves, the wind and thunder, and the thunderbolts;

We share the mist and haze,

As if forever separated,

But they depend on each other for life,

This is the great love,

Steadfastness is here:

Not only love your majestic body,

Also love the position you stick to and the ground under your feet.