(My boyfriend, who is 5’9″ and 175 lbs. of lean muscle, has come to visit me at work. He’s standing across the counter from me when a customer walks in. Not wanting to be in the way, he moves to stand near our fountain drink. The customer walks up to the counter and gives me a lecherous smirk.)

Customer: “How you doin’ hot stuff? You sure are fine.”

Me: *rolls eyes* “I’m not interested. I have a boyfriend, and he’s—”

Customer: “Yeah, sure. I’ll bet he’s a p****. I’ll show you a real man.”

Me: “I’ll have you know my boyfriend was in the Army and is an MMA fighter, so—”

Customer: “That don’t mean s***! Give me your number and I’ll show you what a real man can do for you.”

(I realize I’m not going to get through to this customer, so I sigh and look over to my boyfriend.)

Me: “Babe, will you please explain to him that I know what a real man is, and what a real man can do?”

(Hearing this, my boyfriend stands up straight, smirks, and cracks his knuckles.)

Boyfriend: “Gladly, baby girl. I was wondering when you were going to let me step in.”

Customer: *pales* “Oh, uh, never mind!” *runs out of the store*

Boyfriend: *laughs* “Good thing he didn’t know I need a knee replacement, huh?”