Dear Swedish Guys (especially the ones from Karma last weekend),

Don't assume that because I'm a native English speaker that I haven't bothered to learn Swedish. As I'm sure many Swedes have found out from various open-mouth-insert-foot situations abroad, Swedish is not a secret language. This is all-the-more true while one is purusing a night club in Sweden. I don't necessarily volunteer the information that I'm fluent in your language, but that's your problem, not mine. I don't consider this eavesdropping, because you didn't ask. I will, however, be happy to answer "Ja!" if you do pose the question, "Pratar du svenska?"

I'm even less likely to volunteer this information when you start to talk about my friend, right in front of me. In fact, I'm likely to let you go on and on and on, digging yourself in deeper and deeper. I'm fascinated by the fact that you felt it important to announce to your buddy the following amazing revelation: "Hon har inga tuttar!" ("She's got no tits!") And that was among the nicer things you had to say. I'm sure my friend will be even happier to hear about it than I was. Especially as your buddy was trying to get her phone number. (And he'll be happy to hear that she was just about to give it to him, until your amazing little revelation).

I get it. Guys talk. That's fine. Girls do too. But let's save it for the locker room, shall we boys?

Love,
F. Curiosa