7 Stupid Questions We Need To Stop Asking
1. “Can I use your computer?”
They don’t need you all up in their shit. They don’t need you typing a single letter into the YouTube search bar and getting prompted to go on a journey through all of the “announcing to the parents we’re pregnant/engaged” happy-cry videos that they enjoy watching in their private leisure time. A person’s laptop is their sacred sphere of masturbation and hate-stalking and messages sent to crushes while drunk at two in the morning. It is not for public consumption. Besides, everyone knows you just want to check your Facebook and dick around for a few minutes. There is no need to make someone sweat bullets and reconsider every digital decision they ever made over that nonsense.
2. “How much did you pay for [insert object here]?”
Maybe if you’re really cool with the person and you have a distinct, practical reason for wanting to know the cost of something, it could pass for an acceptable question. And yes, sometimes you can’t help but vomit up the question “How much did that cost??” when you see something that looks 50 shades of unaffordable. But talking about money is the conversational equivalent of shaking hands after not washing them in the bathroom. There is no reason for you to know about how much that purse cost, even if you really want it or are incredibly suspicious as to how this sweaty plebe managed to get their hands on it. You do the classy thing, wait until you get home and Google the shit out of it.
3. “Still on the job search?”
You will know when that shit is over the second it happens. Trust. The unemployed person will burst through your window covered in rhinestones and throw confetti all over your living room, followed by a banner that says in glittery bubble lettering, “I got a job!!!” Until then, it’s not over.
4. “Don’t you know that [insert junk food here] is bad for you?”
I want to know exactly what part of the human brain motivates people to say this shit. Because let’s be clear, there is not a human alive who goes up to a pretzel stand at the mall while out doing their shopping and orders a jalapeno cheddar twist with nacho cheese dipping sauce and a lemonade slushy and thinks that they are doing their body a favor. We all know that shit is bad, and health is not why we eat it. We eat it because it tastes like dreams and affection and a warm blanket on a cold night and makes us temporarily forget that we have to go wander under the oppressive fluorescent lighting of Pottery Barn for two hours to help a friend do her wedding registry. The only reason you ask someone if they know that it’s bad is because you are a jealous little bridge troll who wishes they could be eating that stuffed-crust pizza, and will accept the paltry substitute of ruining it for the person who actually is.
Haters.
5. “Eww, why do you like [insert band/genre of music here]?”
I LIKE CELINE DION BECAUSE SHE IS AN AMAZING SINGER AND HER GOD-GIVEN TALENT TRANSCENDS YOUR CONDESCENDING JUDGMENT.
6. “Still single?”
Yeah, that’s what you do when you see a bleeding axe wound in the middle of someone’s chest, so gaping and raw that you can occasionally see the overworked muscles of their barely-surviving heart moving with the last bit of energy their struggling body can muster. You grab a handful of emotional sea salt and you rub that shit in until your hands give out from exhaustion.
7. “Why are you so quiet?”
There are only one of two legitimate answers here:
1. “I am generally a fairly introverted person, and I have a hard time being really outgoing in new social situations, so I am trying to just hang back a little bit and observe until I feel a bit more comfortable. And your questioning of my behavior only further confirms my suspicion that my inability to just ‘be cool’ in the way others seem to makes me stick out like a sore thumb and gives me further reason to not even try stepping out of my comfort zone.”
2. “I am in a bad mood for reasons I’d rather not discuss, even though I am trying my best to remain normal and be around other people. The best way of handling this, for me, is to just be a bit more quiet than usual as I take things in and reflect on the things which are troubling me. But now that you’ve taken the opportunity to point out how weird I’m being, I guess that means I’ll have to either go home to be sad in private or force myself to put on a show of being happy when I really just want to cry.”
And both of these make you look like an asshole. 