[The Title-Writer Is Taking A Pizza-Rito Break; Back In Five]

, , , , | | Romantic | June 16, 2019

(My boyfriend and I share a tight pod of friends with whom we play D&D and board games once or twice a week. Before we start gaming, we usually go out to dinner, and one of our favorite restaurants is a line-style “build-your-own-pizza” place that makes individually-sized custom pizzas. One of our friends is the guy who’s always carrying something random for whatever reason; in this case, it’s a pack of flour tortillas.)

Boyfriend: *takes a bite of his pizza, a clump of toppings slide off* “I’m really loving the choices I made tonight; I just wish they would stay on the actual pizza.”

Me: “You should put one of [Friend]’s tortillas on the plate so the toppings fall into the tortilla, and then you’ll have a pizza-rito after you finish the pizza.”

Boyfriend: *head snapping up to stare at me for a moment* “YOU BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!” *to [Friend]* “You see why I wanna marry her, right?!”

Friend: *laughing* “So, you want a tortilla?”

([Boyfriend] gave me a huge kiss on the cheek and took a tortilla. Turns out, pizza-ritos are awesome!)

Literally Up To Your Neck In Crazy Customers

, , , , | | Right | June 16, 2019

(I am sixteen and have just started my first job. When I was 13, I was found to have thyroid cancer. I had it operated on twice, and because of this, it left a very brash scar. To prevent people from seeing it, I wear a scarf I made myself. Despite it looking out of place, especially in Texas weather, I feel it keeps people at bay from prying about what’s underneath. I am ringing in a woman with a rather large cart filled with items.)

Me: “Hello! Did you find everything?”

Customer: *seems very hesitant* “Yeah, thanks…”

(I finish ringing everything up without another word from her.)

Me: “All right, your total is $221.34. Is there anything else you’ll be needing?”

(She just shakes her head while rummaging through her purse, and I continue on with my work, assuming she’s just had a bad day or such.)

Me: “All righty, then! Will that be cash or credit?”

(She looks up at me scoldingly from her purse, and I am taken aback as I think I’ve been nice this entire time.)

Customer: *pulls out credit card* “Credit.”

Me: “Okay, just slide it in the card reader in front of you.”

Customer: *slides card through and signs reader*

Me: “Seems everything’s gone through smoothly. Would you like a receipt?”

Customer: “Why do you wear that?”

(I print out the receipt in an effort to dodge the question, which, despite the fact I’m asked it every once in a while, I hate having to answer, so much so that my friends usually answer with a lie for me.)

Customer: “Are you stupid? Why. Do. You. Wear that?”

Me: *getting nervous and uncomfortable* “Thank you for shopping with us!”

(She then leans over the counter and quickly grabs my scarf’s base right by my neck, making me give a slight scream in terror as I’m jolted forward. She continues to try and undo it, but due to its length, it just gets more and more tangled and tighter around my neck. I’m putting up a pretty big struggle, but she has me pulled over the counter so I’m obviously losing. It doesn’t take long for my manager to notice, and he rushes to me quickly and tries pulling her off of me with the help of my coworker and a few customers. Once she’s finally off, my manager calls the cops and she’s taken away. I’m asked if I’d like to press charges for assault, but lucky for her, I decline. I’m sitting against the wall, having redone my scarf and trying to catch my breath; this is the first time anything like this had ever happened. My coworker comes and sits by me. I have a tendency to make jokes out of bad situations.)

Coworker: “You okay? That looked kind of scary.”

Me: “Are you kidding?! It scared the daylights out of me! I thought I was going to die in the middle of a grocery store!” *laughs*

Coworker: “Well, I’m glad you’re not hurt; if you died you couldn’t go see a movie with me next Saturday.”

(I did quit that job, despite my love for my coworkers and manager, in the end. And yes, my coworker — now boyfriend — and I did see that movie together. He also bought me a new, shorter, scarf, which is now an annual thing for him to get me on our anniversary. I have never been happier.)

Say Bi To The Old Me

, , , , , , | | Friendly | June 16, 2019

(I’m white, female, and bi. I am having dinner with someone I met while travelling previously who’s now visiting the UK. We’ve met up a few times on her trip. When we first met months ago, I mentioned that I wasn’t straight — in the context of a discussion about me being a non-straight woman at work and lack of role models — and she seemed to take it in stride. She talks a lot about hot guys and makes comments about the type of boyfriend I should have, which I find slightly annoying, but I don’t call her out on it. I’m due to go on a date with a dark-skinned guy soon, and she seems surprised by this. She then suggests, upon learning that I have previously dated a black man, that dark-skinned men are my “type.”)

Me: “Um. I don’t really factor skin colour in a great deal. I mean, my boyfriend before that guy was white and half-German. And my last two proper relationships have been white women, though I guess one of them was Fr—“

Friend: “Wait, women? As in, a girlfriend?”

Me: “Um. Yes?”

Friend: “You’re a lesbian?”

Me: “No, I’m bi.”

Friend: “You never said that!”

Me: *thinking of the conversation we had months previously* “I have. I’m fairly open about it.”

Friend: “You always talk about previous boyfriends.”

Me: “I said partners, though I may have mentioned boyfriends before since I have had boyfriends before.”

Friend: “You have never said that you aren’t straight.”

(She’s clearly forgotten our conversation from the first time we met, but just as I’m about to explain that I’d not realised she didn’t remember that, something occurs to me.)

Me: “Hang on. I literally made a joke about being bi yesterday to you.”

Friend: “What?”

Me: “You made a comment about guys preferring a different style to mine in women, and I made a joke that started along the lines of, ‘Well, the good thing for me about being bi is…’. What did you think I was talking about?”

Friend: *waves her hand dismissively* “I don’t always listen.”

Me: “You told me to stop being silly, so I assumed you’d heard it.”

Friend: “I really don’t think you’ve ever said anything.”

Me: “I made a comment about a hot woman the other day. I literally wear a pride badge on my jacket.”

Friend: “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Me: “I have definitely told you that I’m not straight. Yesterday included.”

Friend: “You haven’t. But I don’t mind. I’m okay with gays.”

Me: “Er, good.”

(She then proceeds to tell me she doesn’t like women hitting on her, and shares an anecdote about an admittedly creepy-sounding woman hitting on her. I respond with an anecdote about a creepy guy hitting on me, to make the point that it’s the person that can be creepy. Still, she does seem mostly okay with it so I don’t make a fuss. We chat a bit more. Then:)

Friend: “So, why did you switch back to guys?”

Me: “What?”

Friend: “You said you were dating lesbians. Why men now?”

Me: “I didn’t switch. I’m bi. The last date I went on was with a guy, but the date before that was a woman.”

Friend: “Does your date know that you used to be a lesbian?”

Me: “You mean that I’m bi?”

Friend: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, I assume so. It’s on my profile.”

Friend: “Oh, really? Why would you put it on your profile?”

Me: “Um. Why not?”

Friend: “What does he think about it?”

Me: “It’s not really come up. I’m assuming he’s fine with it. But if he is homophobic, then that’s his problem. I’ve not got time in my life to put up with that.”

(By this point, although she’s assured me several times that she’s “fine with gays,” I’m a little nervous about what she’ll say. Thankfully, however, she laughs.)

Friend: “Yeah! You go! That’s the right attitude!”

(She then tried to give me advice on staying safe due to my orientation. It came from the right place, I guess, so all’s well that ends well. I actually mentioned the conversation to the guy; he just wanted to know how my joke about being bi ended.)

A Fate Worse Than Death

, , , , | | Learning | June 16, 2019

(I am a teacher’s assistant at an elementary school. I am eating lunch in my classroom, which is empty except for one of my coworkers and a student she’s having lunch with. I’m not paying attention to their conversation, until I hear this part.)

Coworker: “How do you know I’m not a spy from the future?”

Student: “Um… Ms. [My Name], help me!”

Me: “How do you know I’m not a spy, too?”

(The student stares at us in horror.)

Coworker: “Why do you think we wear all-black uniforms?”

Me: “We’re all time-traveling spies.”

Student: “You’re fibbing.”

Me: “All right, Ms. [Coworker], she has to be eliminated.”

Coworker: “You know what that means, right?”

Student: “…”

Me: “You have to go live in Canada.”

Student: *tearfully* “I hate Canada.”

Giving Birth To All Kinds Of Liquids And Smells

, , , | | Healthy | June 16, 2019

I stayed in the hospital for three nights after giving birth to my son. When my partner came to take me home, we couldn’t find my shoes anywhere. We searched almost every place I had been whilst in the hospital.

My trainers were found by a nurse, under the bed in the birthing room.

I went home barefoot.

Page 2/12,59112345...Last