As soon as you were of age, your mother tried her best to teach you what she called ”manners”. You had to talk right, stand right, smile right ; and you heard her disappointment in her sighs when you did something wrong. You spent hours trying to master anything that would make your mother proud. Eventually, when all you knew to do was smiling and answering properly, your mother searched for a proper husband for you. Fear was eating you alive, hoping to not be a failure in the eyes of anyone, including any potential future husband. As disappointment in yourself was slowly hurting you, you tried to understand truly why no man would be good enough in the eyes of your mother.

You met young ladies who were about your age, and disappointment was stronger than ever. Not only were they more extroverted, talking and laughing more naturally than you, but they were much more educated. Not in terms of manners, no, but in terms of knowledge and culture. They were constantly discussing and debating art, literature and science, and all you could do was to sit and listen, you felt like an idiot. Jealousy and envy slowly settled, and after months of searching, your mother found a man who didn't seem too difficult. Simon was ready to give a reasonable dowry and to meet you, despite your mother's words, as she tried to tell him that you were far from perfect.

He sat awkwardly in front of you, in your mother's living room, searching for a way to start conversation without scaring you. But you, your thoughts were filled with guilt, feeling like trapping him into a marriage when he deserved better. In fact, he deserved a woman with whom he would discuss art, languages, history, politics… Not one who had barely been taught to smile. You took a breath, bracing yourself, already expecting him to stand in and leave in disappointment. “I don't know art. Nor politics, nor science, nor literature.” Simon stopped, surprised, understanding now what was making you feel tense and unwell, but he remained composed. “It's fine. I can teach you.”