Columnist Paula Dubbink addresses the male student community. Who wants to feign a relationship with her?
Hej!
Is your name Bosse, Emil, or Carl?
Are you taller than 1.80, blonde and age 25 to 35?
Do you always start your day with a sillmacka and do you drink milk when training in the gym?
Then you’re the one I need.
And no, this is not a desperate call for a boyfriend – my life as a single is fine.
Mainly, I’d need you as an excuse. If we can act as if we’re a couple, it would make life easier for me and more logical for those around. Let me explain why.
The thing is that I’m halfway in my third year here now and the Swedes have started noticing that I have been around for a fairly long amount of time. They ask difficult questions; “So how much longer are you staying here?” being the nastiest one.
Because I simply don’t know. Right now I don’t feel like leaving to the Netherlands. But when I answer that I might be around even after having finished by MA, the Swedes look puzzled. Apparently it’s strange for them to imagine that someone would voluntarily want to live in a country with free education, fun traditions and masses of fika. At the same time, my international friends who are married or heavily in love with a Swede are never asked when they’ll leave: love allows one to act strangely, seems to be the line of thought.
But it’s not only the Swedes: my fellow immigrants think along the same tracks. Last term I applied for a job at a small Dutch company in Malmö. The interview went fine, but four days later I didn’t get the job. The main reason for their no: they weren’t certain enough whether I would really stay on for a longer period of time. I thought that I clearly explained in the interview that exactly the point of finding a job would ensure my continued presence in Sweden, but I guess I didn’t. However, all three employees were married to a Swede. What would have happened if I had mentioned my love for you, a sweet Skåning? I’m without joking quite certain that my job chances would have increased substantially, as they’d have known I’d stay.
And so when a friend recently jokingly said: “You should get married to a Swede”, I knew it was time to get to action.
So, Johan or Kalle or whatever your name is – bonus points if it’s an Astrid Lindgren character – shall we give it a try? We don’t have to go for marriage directly, but just a faked lat-relationship would be a good starting point in my eyes. You won’t have to do more than every now and then show up at my social events and say some romantic stuff to me. You can leave after an hour to go to your innebandy training.
In exchange I could teach you my beautiful language, provide you with insane amounts of tulips and Gouda cheese and a monthly dose of hash.
Deal?
