I have never liked surprises. I enjoy being able to think through a potentially embarrassing situation beforehand, so I can minimize the effects of my social inhibitions.
Once, when I was about five years old, my parents told me I had to go to dinner with Daddy and his coworkers. My hair was curled, Mom dressed me in my best (cleanest) dress, and Dad gave me the instruction: “use your Florida manners” (my mother’s mother lives in Florida.) The combination of the aforementioned put me in a somber state; I knew this would be a “speak only when spoken to” and “Reg, stop putting olives on your fingers” affair.
After sitting (relatively) still in the car for thirty minutes (an eternity) and covering my eyes from the terrifying Cuesta Grade ( a menacing 1,300 feet above sea level), we arrived at our destination. We entered the Mexican restaurant.
There I found, to my surprise, my grandma and my favorite cousins. I broke down crying because it didn’t know what to do. My expectations had been violated; and even though I knew this was a change for the better, I couldn’t comprehend what exactly was going on.
Which brings me to my point: my roommate likes saying "meow," then poking me. I am starting to see this as a devious plot and not just his usual randomness. He has used classical conditioning to make me flinch whenever he says, “meow,” whether he pokes me or not. In theory, he now has me on a random interval schedule and plans to see how long he can make me continue the behavior.
My hypothesis is that the behavior will end when I break down from the constant stress of the “surprise attack” or when I kill him. Maybe if I could’ve forced my five-year-old self to laugh and smile during the surprise family dinner, my favorite cousin wouldn’t resent me now.
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