| Quote #1
Ana Obregón, unlike every other girl in his secret cosmology, he actually fell for as they were getting to know each other. [...]. Incredibly enough, instead of making an idiot out of himself as one might have expected, given the hard fact that this was the first girl he'd ever had a conversation with, he actually took it a day at a time. He spoke to her plainly and without effort and discovered that his constant self-deprecation pleased her immensely. It was amazing how it was between them; he would say something really obvious and uninspired, and she'd say, Oscar, you're really fucking smart. (220.127.116.11)
One of young Oscar's oddities is that he falls for a girl before he ever gets to know her. He usually imagines a whole romance with said girl in his head. So when he actually goes up to talk to her, he sounds obsessed. This doesn't happen with Ana. As our narrator notes, things with Ana happened so quickly that Oscar didn't have to time to let his imagination run wild. We don't normally recommend rushing into things, but it might actually be good for our boy Oscar.
| Quote #2
Love. Oscar knew he should have checked out right then. He liked to kid himself that it was only cold anthropological interest that kept him around to see how it could all end, but the truth was he couldn't extricate himself. He was totally and irrevocably in love with Ana. What he used to feel for those girls he'd never really known was nothing compared to the amor [love] he was carrying around for Ana. It had the density of a dwarf-motherfucking-star and at times he was a hundred percent sure it would drive him mad. (18.104.22.168)
Did we say that Oscar falls hard for girls? We're actually not sure why Oscar is such a romantic; it's just a given of his character. But when he starts to like someone, Oscar can't help but fall head-over-heels in love. Especially if she shows some interest, too.
| Quote #3
She wasn't the only girl dreaming like this. This jiringonza was in the air, it was the dreamshit that they fed girls day and night. It's surprising Beli could think of anything else, what with that heavy rotation of boleros, canciones, and versos spinning in her head, with the Listín Diario's society pages spread before her. Beli at thirteen believed in love like a seventy-year-old widow who's been abandoned by family, husband, children, and fortune believes in God. Belicia was, if it was possible, even more susceptible to the Casanova wave than many of her peers. Our girl was straight boycrazy. (22.214.171.124)
Can you think of someone else who dreams about love and sex (a lot) as a teenager? That's right. Oscar Wao. We guess it runs in the family… Just like the fukú.