(My boyfriend of four years owns a high end coffee shop. He works with his friend, who has just arrived from England. I have not met the friend yet. I come in after my martial arts class and my boyfriend greets me.)

Boyfriend: “Hey!”

(My boyfriend then turns to his friend.)

Boyfriend: “[Friend’s Name], this is my girlfriend. The one. I was telling you about. Earlier.”

Boyfriend’s Friend: “Oh! Right! That one!” *chuckles*

(My friend glances down and catches a glimpse of my martial arts pants.)

Boyfriend’s Friend: “Oh! Taekwondo, huh?”

Me: “Ha, yeah. Uh, babe. Can I have my usual? I don’t have long before choir and band.”

Boyfriend: *nervously* “Yeah, sure. Of course. Sure. Sure. Yeah.”

Me: “Babe? You okay?”

Boyfriend: “Huh? What? Yeah, I’m fine. Why would something be wrong?”

Boyfriend’s Friend: “Uh, mate, help the customers. I’ll get her coffee, yeah?”

Boyfriend: “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Okay.”

(My boyfriend’s friend starts making my drink, and strikes up conversation.)

Boyfriend’s Friend: “So, how are you?”

Me: “Well, soon I will be going to the Philippines to help with the families there after the typhoon. Then after, to my friend’s hometown Port-Au-Prince, just to help teach. I’m going with some missionaries.”

Boyfriend’s Friend: “Wait, let me get this straight: you do mixed martial arts, you are in a choir and a band, and a huge humanitarian?”

(My boyfriend’s friend turns to my boyfriend.)

Boyfriend’s Friend: “Mate, you said she was normal. How you gonna pull this off when she is so chill?”

Me: “Pull what off?”

Boyfriend: “Nothing! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!”

(By now, we have got the attention of the whole shop.)

Boyfriend’s Friend: “Oh, bull! This guy here, he wants to marry you. But now, I don’t think he has the balls to say it!”

Boyfriend: “DUDE!”

Me: “WHAT?! I knew something was going on! I knew it, I knew it!”

Boyfriend: “[My Name], please…”

Me: “Shut it. You know the answer’s yes.”

(My boyfriend decided to go with me to the Philippines to help with the typhoon victims. We are now arguing about getting married in Haiti!)

(My grandmother has Alzheimer’s. She often thinks she is unmarried and only in her 20s. When told otherwise, she usually responds in very humorous or sweet fashions.)

Grandma: “He was the handsomest man!”

Aunt: “[Grandpa] was?”

Grandma: “Oh, yes! All the girls wanted to dance with him when he was home on leave.”

Aunt: “You too, huh?”

Grandma: “Me, especially!”

Aunt: “[Grandpa], did you hear that?”

Grandma: “Who’re you talking to?”

Aunt: “Your husband!”

Grandma: “[Grandpa]?”

Aunt: “Yeah! Your husband!”

Grandma: *scoffing* “I wish!”

Aunt: “Well, go in the next room and see, if you don’t believe me. He’s watching the ball game.”

Grandma: “[Grandpa]?”

Grandpa: “Yeah? Whad’ya want?”

(Grandma then rushes into the other room and throws herself into his lap for a kiss. She was so happy she couldn’t stop laughing and neither could the rest of us.)

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(We’re walking back to the car after a nice dinner.)

Me: “Hey there, lovebird. You’re a pretty bird! Does the pretty bird sing pretty songs?”

Girlfriend: “KAWWWWWWWWW!”

Me: “…nope.”

(I’m spending the day with my grandmother at her house. We’re talking about LGBTQ related topics, since I’d just come out to her as bisexual. I have just finished telling a story about a female-to-male transgender friend, who is being told by his mother that he isn’t transgendered, but just a lesbian.)

Grandma: “Well, that’s poor boy’s mother’s so full of s***! And how come a girl can like sports, but the second a guy wants to bake he’s suddenly a f****** f*****!?”

(My grandmother proceeds to rant for a good ten minutes, pretty much expressing all the same views that I have about LGBTQ and acceptance/equality.)

Me: “This is why you’re my favorite.”

Grandma: “Oh honey, I know.”

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(My six-year-old daughter is styling my hair for me.)

Daughter: “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this. You never used to let me do this.”

Me: “Well, you’re older now.”

Daughter: “Does that mean I can make a tunnel under my floorboards?”

Me: “Uh … no?”