Tindering

Everything for the sake of speaking Polish fluently.

That is my motto. And I’m working really hard to live by it. So hard even that I did what I shouldn’t have done…

… I went on Tinder.

I sacrificed my reputation and privacy, but it’s all for the sake of talking Polish more often. Nevertheless this turned out to be a good social experiment as well. Find a place where people can show themselves, and you find the true nature of human kind. I promise you. This Tinder thing has been an adventure, but at least a funny one, so I decided to share it with you.

First of all, if you’re not familiar with Tinder, let me explain. It’s an app, connected to your facebook, where you can display yourself by pictures and if wanted a few words about yourself (with a limit, of course). The app will show other people your first picture, your name and your age, and they can swipe. Left means ‘no’, right means ‘yes’. You get to swipe pictures as well, within a chosen age category and distance. If you both swipe right, you have a match and you can talk.

In short, smartphone speed dating.

I put on three pictures, one of which not even showing my face (but with some lovely mountains in the background, that’s why I love the picture) and a caption stating I have to speak Polish fluently by the end of June. And there we went. Swipe swipe swipe. You have no idea how addicting it is to judge people by their pictures! Also, at first I had a lot of guys of course. So I kept on swiping and swiping and had a good laugh.

My experiment led to this model of the Average Polish Guy. His name is Michal, Mateusz, Kuba or something along those lines. He loves fitness and he likes to show off his six pack. If he doesn’t have a six pack, he will show off his car/motor bike. Those are loved immensely as well. Selfies are not a problem here, not even for guys. It’s okay if you take a picture in the mirror, with your phone clearly visible and you staring at your screen. He takes himself very seriously.

You can imagine what I’m talking about. This app is not only for speed dating, it’s also to brag with how strong you are or how fancy your car is, and that’s a very serious matter for some. This also shows in the “moments” – you can take a picture with a caption, and all of your matches will be able to see it for 24 hours. Again, you can swipe left or right. There’s a lot of attnetion whoring going on with those moments. Sometimes just a plain selfie, sometimes withh a caption that barely hides how it’s all about showing off.
Sometimes it goes even further. Then you have a match, so you think he’s somewhat interested (even if it’s just trying to get laid!), so you say something (for the sake of talking Polish) and then… he doesn’t answer. Oh well, it’s okay, I understand that you needed the match to boost up your self-esteem! It’s better not to start talking to anyone. Yesterday I couldn’t sleep, so I said to my latest match ‘Hey :)’. He actually answered (‘Hallo’), which shocked me.

Although, if they start talking, you’re in for a nice conversation for a while. Mostly it will end soon, but hey, at least you’ve talked Polish for a while! Not telling where I am from seemed to be a good idea, because I’ve had a few people asking me that. They all guessed wrong, one by one. And I had a good time not telling them of course. Who would ever guess you’re from Belgium? My name isn’t very Belgian either, which made it hard for them. I’m merciless, you know. Some managed me to flatter though, by saying I have a beautiful name. I’ve also had people ask me why I had to speak Polish fluently at the end of June. But the majority didn’t seem to notice that it’s somewhat strange how a foreigner can talk Polish quite well. (Quite well because of dictionaries.) That’s something that keeps surprising me: some people don’t seem to be wondering at all why someone, clearly not Polish, speaks some Polish.

o-TINDER-APP-facebook

I’ve met one interesting guy, who was also into languages. We had a good, long conversation and we even met. In my beloved park. It was nice talking to him, because I could understand him, and that’s always a pleasure. Also, talking to people who learn languages themselves is often better, because they understand how difficult it can be sometimes. Unfortunately we never managed to meet again, which also seems to be a sign that he might not be so eager to. It’s a pity, but I’m not the one to beg for attention.

I also had another ‘date’ (I call everything a date) with another foreign student. As it turned out, it’s easier to talk Polish with a native speaker than to speak English with a foreign student. Pity. He was a nice guy, but I don’t want to feel like I have to keep the conversation going all the time. He did remember my birthday though, which was very kind.

By far the most hilarious thing I had, was when my parents were visiting me and we went to Warsaw. A certain evening we were at a restaurant when suddenly a few Italian guys came in, sat down, and took their phones before even watching the menu. Get your priorities straight, people. You’re so close to food! They also managed to complain to the waiter that it took too long to prepare the food. In Italian. As if that would work. One of the guys was clearly on Tinder, swiping everyone right. Pathetic. At a certain moment he suddenly started staring at me, so I thought ‘oh dear, maybe he saw me there…’. I acted natural. (Haha. Sure.) That evening I went on Tinder and started swiping.

I found him.

We had a match. He then said ‘hey, we ate in the same restaurant yesterday!’, but in bad English. I said something along the lines of ‘haha, I already thought so!’. His next message was literally: ‘Tonight fuck?’ I almost laughed out loud, then said ‘Are you serious? Because no.’ He still tried, saying I was beautiful, that I could ditch my parents and go to a restaurant with him, that it was his last night there. I politely explained that I didn’t want to. Politely, because after all it’s Tinder.

He wasn’t even that good-looking, actually.

I’ve come to the point where there are barely new people to swipe, so it’s getting boring. There’s not interesting going on at the moment, no conversations (unless some of them will still answer), so we’re through it. If you were thinking of trying it, I can recommend it for being very funny and interesting form an antropologic point of view. But just yesterday I read an article about a women who tried dating via Tinder for a year, she went on a date fifty times, and yet no man found. I’m not looking for a boyfriend there, at all, but if you would think of using Tinder for that purpose, I will have to disappoint you. They’re just too busy admiring their six pack to actually talk to you…

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But… we make good girlfriends too!

People, people, we have to talk. Really, it’s about time! Remember the time I complained about the fact that only curvy women are real women? Well, a while ago we got part two. A friend of mine read fifteen reasons why short girls are better girlfriends. There was some logic in these reasons, I have to admit that. But still! I decided to spread the word about why tall girls are also awesome. (Because we want to be loved too…!) Being tall myself, I think there are plenty of reasons why being tall is awesome. Plenty!

Just don’t go asking which ones I have in mind.

Luckily there’s the Great Internet to help me out! This list of 15 Benefits of Being A Tall Girl is the best one for sure. The first reason it mentions is the fact that we are just badass – straight to the point! Because you see, we are pretty badass. We are slightly intimidating, we look like we could be professional basket ball players (those who know me will know that I am not…) and we can reach the highest shelve. Isn’t that brilliant? In our appartment here in Poland, I get to use all the top shelves, and I like that. We’re badass because we’re independent because we can take whatever we want from whatever shelve. There ya go.

It makes you a badass.

We’re pretty baddas. From the article linked to above.

 

Until a certain moment, I wasn’t too fond of wearing heels. Since I moved away for university, I suddenly noticed that I’m actually very tall, and not just quite tall. Not feeling the need to be looking over everyone, I didn’t wear heels for a while. But then along came my love for heels again, and I stopped caring. These days I’m wearing my winter boots with heels quite a lot, mainly because it’s winter. I don’t have a bike here, so I walk around the city on heels.

And you know what?

It feels great. As the article states, you feel like a super model. I can’t help feeling damn well when wearing heels. Even if I intimidate people, well, it’s not that bad, right? I’d rather have them be impressed than to laugh at me. So up the heels! It helps that in Eastern Europe, you’re never the only one wearing heels, and you’re never the one wearing the highest.

It also seems to be true that you can eat a lot and you’ll still be slim. Especially here I eat a lot. Really, a lot. Bit it’s okay, so far I still don’t get fatter. I have enough length to divide the weight. And because of this I also have legs to be proud of. Every skirt you buy will be way shorter on you than on the others, but hey, at least you have the legs to rock it!

So, let’s keep the positive vibe for tall girls going! And of course, also for the short girls and everything in between. I’m not trying to say we’re the best, but I felt like a little response would do no harm 😉

What I think of during exams

Today I did the first exam of this exam period. It went quite well, I’m pretty sure I didn’t fail, so that is good. But there is something I really have to get off my chest… Dear university, do you know anything about proportions at all? Do you know what a human body looks like, or the average paper? Apparently, you don’t. Let me tell you. The average male in Belgium is said to be 1.80 m, and the average woman 1.68 m. And, as I can tell you from experience, this doesn’t mean that men have 160 cm legs, and women don’t have 140 cm legs. So please leave enough space in height between the seat and the table. Thank you. Next to that we are often told to hold a straight back when writing. But when you leave space in width between the seat and the table, this means you can sit comfortable but are not able to write, or sit ‘curved’ and be able to write. This is also caused by the fact that the tables are terribly low. To finish the list, the average paper is A4, which means its height is 29,7 cm. It would be much appreciated if you would make the tables at least that big, or even slightly bigger. But honestly, 15 cm doesn’t really work out. Especially not when there’s someone sitting in front of you (who’s also doing an attempt to lean back in order to avoid back pain).

And then I haven’t even told you about the stairs. As soon as you have this big room, the stairs are a big challenge. There is but one way to come down: by walking in morse. Also, thanks to the accoustic qualisties, everyone can hear you coming down in the most clumsy way.

Gotta love university, right?

Fortunately we often get normal tables and chairs these days, because we’re such a small group. That’s an advantage. The bigger your group, the worse it gets, often. So there are positive things about obscure studies!

Since I had an exam today, I decided to take a little time off. Tonight more studying will follow, since my following exam is Thursday, and it will be hard, but as for now I’m having a tiny little break. That’s already lasting 1,5 hour. Okay. I stumbled upon a very funny video though, that actually made me laugh – which might have something to do with sleep deprivation and exam humour – in which they ask hipsters about made up bands. I’m not sure if it’s real, because if it is, those people are pretty lame… But at the same time, it’s really funny. So if you want to take a break too, here ya go:

Badassness (with Irene Adler)

It seems like the stream of bad news hasn’t come to an end yet. As things turn out, I will be going to Russia on my own, with a delay of a month. On my own! A month too late! I’m only a little bit completely terrified.

There is a big upside though. If I survive this, nothing can scare me anymore. Without a doubt this will be the most badass thing I’ve ever done, maybe even the most badass thing I’ll ever do. Being badass is something good. I mean, the real badassness. Not the ‘look I can drink two bottles of vodka in an hour’ kind of badass. No, I mean the ‘I’m just going to do this shit’ kind of badass.

According to the Urban Dictionary, there are a few explanations as to what this ‘badass’ thing is. (I guess that counts for every word you can think of.) Here are some rules the dictionary presents us:

Unspoken Rules of Being Badass:
1. First rule of being a badass. A badass does not talk about being a badass. Period.

2. Second rule of being a badass, a badass does not try to be a badass or look tough. A badass simply is a badass.

3. A badass stays true to themselves, always. This means being themselves for themselves, and not being fake to impress others.

4. A badass does not give up. Badasses will always push themselves for the better, no matter how hard it gets.

It seems that they aren’t so unspoken anymore, but okay. I’ve broken the first rule already, unfortunately. Does anyone else notice the movie reference I suspect here?
I’m doing a good job on the second one though. I don’t want to be badass! I’d much rather go together with a friend and on time to Russia! This is just a case of ‘I didn’t choose the thug life, the thug life chose me’.

And, if I’m bragging anyway, the fourth rule definitely fits as well. I have spent quite some time trying to get this shit done. If I get to go, it will be because of me, and not because of anyone else. I arranged it. I found out what we needed to do, and I did it. And even with the delay and sudden loss of company, I will still go. I don’t want to give up now. Not now, after everything I have done.

Luckily there are always examples when you need them. After recently having re-watched Sherlock Holmes, I have found Irene Adler a fitting example of old school badassness. Look at the clip, note this catchy soundtrack and enjoy the powah.

That Night With the Teddy Bear

When I went to university, I had high hopes that my life would become less boring and that I would have some interesting stories to tell later on. And well, that came true. I’ve lived through longs days and long nights, and I have been in situations where I would suddenly think ‘how on earth did I end up here?’. It’s safe to say that university did more than just teaching me Russian and Polish.

And since some stories are too good not to tell, I will now dig into my memories to tell you one of my favourite stories. It’s one of my favourites because it is absolutely random and funny. Stick with me, reader, if you want to know what the link between long nights and curious teddy bears is…

This story takes place during the second semester of my first year at university. That year I had a sweet nothing with a guy I will call X, because I find that an appropriate letter when you want to protect someone’s identity. We were definitely not a couple, not even fuck buddies. At most you could call us kiss buddies. And text buddies, because we texted a whole lot. Since we would only meet at night, this was our way of staying in touch.

X liked going out and drinking and did that a whole lot. He could, because he rarely attended his classes. I did attend all of my classes (okay, except for one, completely useless bullshit class), so I also used my nights for sleeping. So one night, it was a Monday in April, I went to sleep at midnight and slept for two hours. For some reason I woke up after those two. I heard my mobile phone freaking out since my inbox was full. My inbox is always full. I don’t know why I am the only one struggling with that, but okay. My phone was vibrating with a passion, and I was awake and annoyed by it, so I got out of bed and started deleting texts so the next ones could arrive safely.

Apparently, X had been sending a lot of messages, asking where I was and saying I had to come. I believe there were even sad smileys involved. I told him I was trying to sleep and that therefore I couldn’t come. He replied saying I had to come. I told him I was trying to sleep and that therefore I couldn’t come. But of course he didn’t listen. For some reason (I could guess what that reason was) he seemed to need my presence. At some point he suddenly said: I have a bear for you!

A bear? I thought. How can he have a bear for me?

I figured that it was a typo and replied that I liked beer, but not tonight. I was trying to sleep, you see. I needed my sleep so I could attend my class the following morning.

Not a beer, he replied, a bear.

A bear.

Do you have any idea how weird that sounds? When a guy tells you he has a bear for you, and it’s around 3 am, that sounds very, very weird. Especially because he wasn’t the romantic type and I didn’t suspect that he would have bought me a gift to deliver it at home at 3 am.
Time was passing, so yes, we were heading towards 3 am and I still wasn’t back asleep. And I didn’t know what to reply to that text saying he had a bear for me. So I said: Oh, now I understand.

I think he was too drunk to understand that I didn’t get the bear thing, or at least that I had understood him so wrong. So he said: I’m bringing it to you.

No, I said. I’m trying to sleep, I need my sleep, and if you come over now, I know I won’t be sleeping.

I must have said that a thousand times. He didn’t listen though. He said he would be quiet, but added that he was on his way.

So I sat there, 3 am, thinking oh no, oh no, oh no, he’s coming with his bear and I don’t want that, and I will not give in, not to him! At the same time I couldn’t believe that he was really heading towards me. Nevertheless I kept on trying to make clear that I didn’t want him here, that he shouldn’t come, and so on.

Time kept going. 3:30. Well, there goes my sleep.

Suddenly he texted: I’m at your door.

I lived in a house with five other students, and my room was on the first floor, right above the front door. I could have looked out of my window to see if he was really there. But somehow, I didn’t dare to do that. Somehow, I couldn’t believe he was really there. I don’t remember what I replied then. Maybe I still repeated that I needed my sleep. But he kept responding saying he was really there, and that it was cold.

About half an hour had passed after his text saying he was there. It was 4 am. I didn’t know what to think of it, until he said: Hurry up, it’s cold ;(.

So I put on the light, brushed my hair a little and said to myself that even if he wasn’t there, I didn’t have to tell him that I went to take a look. Then I went downstairs. Our front door is partially milk glass, and I could see a silhouette.

So he has really come.

I opened the door, and there he was.

With a teddy bear in his arms. An innocent teddy bear.

He only wore a T-shirt with short sleeves and shorts. In the middle of the night. No wonder he was cold. And he was carrying a quite big teddy bear who wore a red knit cap. I didn’t expect to see this, so the first thing I said, was: “Are you insane?”

Still I felt compassion and let him in, since it really was cold. And after all, you don’t get a teddy bear delivery every day, right? Then he told me the teddy bear came from a student bar. How romantic to get a stolen teddy bear as a present! He also told me that he even got lost on his way to me. Normally, that road would have taken about half an hour, which is already long when you’re wearing so little and it’s night. And then he even got lost. All just to get that criminally acquired teddy bear to me. I almost felt flattered.

It was quickly decided that he could stay, though I warned him to keep his hands off me for the reason I had been repeating so often already. Next to that I was determined to not give him what he wanted. But okay. It ended up with him sleeping so deep and me lying awake. Of course. But at least he listened to me when I said he should keep his hands off me.

The next morning I ‘woke up’ (though I didn’t manage to fall asleep for real), went to take a shower and ate some yoghurt, all while he was still asleep. Then he woke up as well. I gave the teddy bear back to him and told him he should return it to the student bar. What could I do with it? Nothing. And I didn’t want something stolen sitting in my room. He accepted it, but never returned it, as far as I know. We walked back to town together  until our roads parted. Right before I left for class and he would continue what he called his Walk Of Shame, he asked for a kiss. Coming to think of it, that must have been the only time we publicly kissed in daylight.

We never did any better than kiss buddies, but still: how many people can say they had a teddy bear delivered at 4 am?

Exactly.

The Wink

Some of you might still remember this very old post of me about the first and second time I saw the beautiful Son of the Neighbours. But if not, here’s a small recap: so I have this neighbour (well, if you ignore about four houses in between us) who is very pretty and who currently doesn’t even live here anymore. But his parents do and he used to live with them. How surprising. The first time we met was on a lazy Sunday and I didn’t look all too well, so I was embarrassed to say at least. Traumatized is more like it. Then the second time we met I came straight from a holiday, and again didn’t look good.

So I gave up on him.

Now today my parents and I left the house to buy luggage (have you ever thought of how much luggage you need when you go away for 4 months?). I have been working today, and I’m not allowed to wear jewelry or makeup to work. Since the shop we were going to is so close to us, I didn’t put on some masacara or earrings. Then we left our house…

… And there he went, straight past us. And he winked. He winked. He winked at me! That might have had something to do with the half eaten apple he had in his mouth (one trip should be enough to carry luggage and an apple, right?). It was a good wink, not a creepy one. Of course.

I did my best not to melt, not to faint, not to run after him screaming MARRY ME! HAVE MY BABIES! Though it has to be said that this boy has an incredible disturbing timing. Why does he never show up when I look good? I take care of my looks so very often, and he only sees me when I look tired and boring? Oh well, our love is doomed since he lives elsewhere and is older.

But something about this is too funny to not tell everyone 🙂

I’m being repressed!

A few days ago I dreamt that I had to go to a class in primary school again, with people from my current university class. As the time there passed by, I got more and more frustrated by the thousand rules there were, even for the most simple things. The teacher went insane because we did things like we do them in university, and I got insane because she tried to control us.

I’ve had a similar dream before, about going back to high school. In that dream I just had the strong feeling that I couldn’t do that anymore. And I’m convinced that that is true. You see, I’ve got a bit of a problem with authority. I overreact to it. There are thousand little rules for everything, and many of them seem completely useless to me. Of course you need rules to keep a world going. Obeying the ones like ‘stop for a red light’ make sense though and therefore they are not hard to cope with. But having to have all your tests signed by your parents, even the smallest ones, is something I can’t get my head around. We had to do this in high school, yes. Back then I didn’t question it. But by the age of 16, something in me started to loathe the system in which we had to nod at what the teachers said. In which we found ourselves surrounded by fences so we couldn’t get out. In which we had classes that were close to ridiculous.

Of course there were reasons for all of this. But that doesn’t mean that I accepted it. As ever I didn’t dare to go full rebel, as the teachers are still the people who have to give you (good!) grades. My rebellion was sighing, shaking my head, looking angry and dressing inappropriately for a catholic school.

I enjoyed that.

At university we have so much more freedom. You can run in late and it’s okay. You don’t even have to attend all classes, though I do. It’s still dangerous to openly disagree with a professor, but there seems to be less abuse of power. Which there kind of was in high school. Some teachers for sure enjoyed their power too much. I remember one time a kid in our class was somewhat ill and coughing all the time. He had a bottle with water and some kind of medicaments. But oh the drama, you cannot drink inside a building, so the teacher said (barked, like we would say in Dutch) that he couldn’t drink.
We spent a long hour with a coughing kid. It was annoying as hell, but of course it was not his fault.

That, in my eyes, is just abuse of power.

In theory we aren’t allowed to drink or eat inside the university buildings, but it’s never a problem. Honestly, I barely survive a two-hour class without water and food. I guess I moved to university right in time! And I surely could never go back to a system that lets someone cough his lungs out while he has a fucking bottle of water with him. Rules are not my thing. Especially unnecessary ones annoy me to death. So I’m happy to be in a place where you can kind of do what you want! And in case you wonder, I did stop being the light rebel who dresses inappropriately. I guess it was just really an effect of the bullshit we had to live by.

To end this on a bright note, here is a sublime video. Repression has never been so funny!

Forgive me

Hey there fellow blogger, I’ll be unable to read your blog or to post for a few days because something fun is going to happen! A friend I haven’t seen in ages is coming here, so I’ll dedicate my time to her and not to you guys for a while.
But so you’d forgive me, here’s a nice piece of stand-up comedy. The message pretty much fits the content of this post. Enjoy, and see you all in a few days!

FAQ to the Vegetarian

You don’t eat meat?

Nope, I don’t.

Really?

Yep.

But a bloody steak can be so good…

I disagree. De gustibus etc, you know.

Do you eat fish?

Considering the fact that they are also animals, no.

Then what do you eat?

Yeah, nothing you know. Vegetarians don’t eat. A sporadic thistle perhaps.

Are you kidding me?

Is it so hard to imagine vegetarian food? There’s plenty. You can easily eat pasta without meat. There’s tofu, and quorn, quinoa, rice, blé, nuts, beans, dates and so on.

Aren’t you a hypocrite? You’re wearing leather shoes.

Yes, I am. But there are reasons for this. Leather shoes are better for your feet and last longer than plastic ones. Plastic is ecologically not much better than breeding and killing animals. Next to that, I stopped eating meat because of ethic reasons, but by now I just dislike the taste of meat a whole hell lot. I’m not a raging vegetarian who tries to convert everyone. So in this context, please excuse me my leather shoes.

So you don’t think everyone should be a vegetarian?

No. It’s a choice you have to make. If you choose differently, good for you. The only thing I ask is that you stop talking about bloody steaks when I tell you I don’t eat meat, and that you consider not eating meat every now and then. It’s ecologically better to skip it for let’s say a day each week. Be open minded towards this. Thanks.

But, I mean, it’s silly anyways, because people are made to eat meat. Didn’t the cave-dwellers shoot bisons and eat them?

Yes, they did. But before that, people were herbivorous. Plus, I don’t know about you, but I don’t live in a cave anymore.

Don’t you miss it?

No. As I said, I started disliking the taste and even smell of meat. It just doesn’t appeal to me anymore, just like some people don’t like oranges or something.

When will you eat meat again?

If you let met the choice, never.

One day you will.

Shut the fuck up and get out.

In case you meet a vegetarian one day, please try to ask something more original, like ‘Do you prefer quorn over tofu?’ or something like that. Thanks a lot.

How to Look Like a Thief

So, I just embarrassed myself by behaving suspiciously. How can someone as honest as me look like she’s stealing stuff? I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t want to – and yet I managed to make it seem that way.

What happened?

Well.

In the student house where I live during the week, we’ve got the rule that every week another person is responsible for certain things, one of which being toilet paper. So this evening I came back to this room in this student house and saw that there was barely any toilet paper left from last week. I’ve got class tomorrow, so the fastest I could provide this house would be somewhere in the afternoon.

I decided there needed to be something done. Next door there’s a night shop though, so I put on my jacket, took some money and left. Now I should admit I find it kind of embarrassing to go to a shop for just toilet paper. Luckily there was no one inside when I entered. The shop has two parts: the front part, where the pay desk is, and the second part. I quickly saw there was no toilet paper in the first part, so I walked on to the second. Right when I got there, I though: ‘Djeeze, how easily could you steal something here!’

It didn’t take long to find what I needed, but at that moment I saw someone entering the shop. Dammit. I decided to wait, because seriously – I find it so embarrassing to buy only toilet paper. I waited some more, looked around a bit, slowly approached the first part.

Then the owner of the shop came up to me. I touched a bottle of beer, but it really must have looked as if I was just pretending to look at it. Which was actually true. He asked: “Are you looking for something?”
“Just looking around”, I murmured. That’s not really what people do in a night shop though.
“The beer is all in the front of the shop”, he replied.
“Well, I’m fine I think”, I murmured. I just don’t want to be seen buying toilet paper. I’m sorry.
If I had been smart, I would have looked at the beer, or I would have asked how much the beer I was ‘looking at’ costed. But no.

I could as well have run around like this.

I followed him to the front, where he repeated: “The beer is over there.” It was already embarrassing enough though, I did realise I was behaving weirdly. So to add to the embarrassment I just said: “I’m just gonna take this.”

I paid and smiled and ran off.

Luckily I didn’t have a big bag or anything with me, just a normal jacket without big pockets, and jeans. But if he didn’t think I was attempting to steal something, I would be utterly surprised…

Why can’t I just act like a normal human being?