The Quirks of Being a Wallflower
![Picture](/uploads/9/6/3/2/963221/8646271.jpg?96)
I have many obsessions and quirks, but don’t we all? Okay maybe I’m trying to excuse myself for the fact that yes (rolls eyes), I truly am far from ‘normal’. But so was Walt Disney okay? I mean the dude spent all his money and many years of his life building a theme park which he was too old to use. Some call it selflessness; I call it a cry for help. Sorry Mother Teresa.
For starters, I have to capitalize the beginning of all the words in titles. It’s driving me insane right now that the “of” and “a” in this article’s title are in lowercase! I thought I’d try it out just, you know, so I could appear as what society likes to call ‘normal’, but I’m kind of asphyxiating here. Yeah, I’m a real keeper.
I also like to count stairs, the number of famous actors in a movie and the words in most sentences. Did I mention I’m superstitious about getting out on the wrong side of the bed, insulting ghosts and that if you say “Murphy’s law” it won’t happen, but then by calling out on this so-called Murphy’s bluff it will?
Don’t even try to borrow something of mine without bringing it back – I won’t sleep until you do. Plus I’m scared of the dark, so if you don’t bring back my eraser I won’t be getting any shuteye tonight.
I can’t leave apps open on my phone, see a running tap (best believe I will fix one in a public bathroom), or go anywhere without checking if I have everything in my bag. Thrice. And I will keep digging in my bag till I’m safely back at home after that exhausting day of checking every 5 minutes to make sure I wasn’t mugged.
Oh, there was this really long, weird Hindi movie I watched. It’s called, “Why I Need To Wear A Dress To The Bathroom”. There I go capitalizing everything again! Before leaving the stall I have to turn and make sure everything was flushed and the bathroom is clean, then check if my fly is closed, then smooth my clothes, then turn and check if the toilet is clean, then pull my fly up (again), then smooth my clothes, then check if I didn’t drop anything while I was smoothing my clothes, then start checking my purse to make sure I wasn’t mugged, then leave the stall and check my fly again, then smooth my clothes… And then I get to the taps and mirror. This story needs an INTERMISSION.
If I don’t like you I’ll text your name in lowercase. If I’m lazy I’ll text your name in lowercase. If I don’t know how to use my phone I’ll text your name in lowercase.
I’m pretty lazy and I still don’t know how to use my phone.
I can’t eat chicken in front of people. Especially attractive, so-called ‘people’ with penises. I can’t eat prawns in front of these ‘people’ either. Or anything with a bone in it. Or popcorn. Or melted cheese. Or anything with sauce, vegetables or a peel. Or anything that might get stuck in my teeth while I’m gawking at them. I basically can’t eat in public if it’s not… a slice of bread. And even that has crumbs.
Please don’t leave lights on (or any form of technology). And for the love of – finish all the tea in your cup, don’t call me before 10am and ladies it’s okay to leave your underwear in the shower. I need reassurance that you DO wash it.
Hashtag… Sounds like a delicious new addition to the McDonald’s breakfast menu.
I don’t wear animal print unless it’s multicolored and sold in the underwear section. I don’t eat anything with mint in it, do work over the weekend and I have no respect for boys who wear earrings in both ears. Or even the right ear. And left handed people freak me out. I’m not friends with ambidextrous people, because they’re assholes with murderous tendencies that can open a jar with either hand – and that’s just a freak of nature.
Please put toilet paper the right way: “Over not under”.
I hate small talk (but do it anyway because I’m a psycho people-pleaser who doesn’t like to do what people want but do it anyway).
Why do women wear pantyhose with open-toe shoes? Don’t. Just don’t.
I talk when I’m shy and then don’t when I am, if that makes sense?
If you drive faster than the speed limit I’m going to start giggling uncontrollably and then go silent. Like a possessed teenager.
Meme. I’m sorry what? What is that?
You like Ariana Grande? Go **** yourself.
In short, I’m possibly a bipolar, obsessive compulsive, neurotic…
Wait rewind: You listen to Ariana Grande? I’m sorry I don’t speak whale. As I was saying, I’m possibly a bipolar, obsessive compulsive, neurotic hypocrite with mommy issues. But at least my hair colour is real!
PS: Wear a dress before you pee.