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I’m assuming you mean tartan, and by family you’re referencing the same long-dead dog you mentioned earlier. I’m definitely going to visit Scotland to, like, connect with my heritage.
I think I’ll just get deported and stick with being average.
It was culturally curious to fly seven hours across the Atlantic Ocean and choose “Bob’s Burgers” as a welcome meal. Right, because spectacular mountain ranges, tumbling waterfalls, and armies of highland cows are dull as dirt. I’ll let Glasgow know your brother’s not down to fuck.
Is he one of the 4.5 million other people in Scotland who don’t live in Glasgow?
Yes, when we’re kids they line us up in the music room and whip us until we play O’ Flower of Scotland, error-free.
I love snacking on animal entrails mixed with oatmeal and baked in a sheep’s stomach every day.
As such, because of the widely accepted practice of courting, men in Toronto seem more apt at making the first move.
Generally, if you are out somewhere and making hot bedroom eyes with a dude, he is more than likely to attempt and strike up a conversation and hopefully ask you out. The men over here are hopeless at making the first move; I don’t know if it’s some weird cultural thing that hearkens back to the middle ages, but dudes over here seem completely oblivious.
Perhaps it’s an old puritan tradition that ‘Toronto the Good’ hasn’t quite gotten rid of, but folks tend to opt out for the more traditional route of ‘courting’.
My Scottish friend, Tim, confirmed what I have known for some time now: that Scottish people don’t date.
Or rather, they don’t ‘date’ in the way that you and I (fellow Torontonians and people of the world at large) may be familiar with.
At home I’m a pretty average Scottish girl: average looking, average sounding, average everything.
Now, every time I open my mouth in public at least one American within a 10 meter radius hears my Scottish accent, bounds over all bug-eyed, and grins at me like they’ve found a living dinosaur.