(This happens about the time that free-running/parkour is really big. We are all male teenagers who attempt to make videos of ourselves free-running. One day, Friend #1 tries to do a flip over a concrete dog statue at Friend #2’s parent’s house. In the process, Friend #1 knocks the statue over and the head snaps off.)

Friend #1: “Oh my gosh, [Friend #2]! I’m so sorry!”

Friend #2: “It’s fine. They’ll never notice.”

(He nonchalantly puts dog’s head back on. Two hours later, while we’re at lunch:)

Friend #2: “Oh s***, guys I can’t take it anymore.”

Us: “What?”

Friend #2: “I gotta tell my mom what happened…”

(Calls his mom.)

Friend #2: “Hey, Mom? Yeah… [Friend #1] has something to tell you.”

(Hands phone to a shocked Friend #1.)

Friend #1: “Uh… hello… uh… hi…”

(He proceeded to tell Friend #2’s mom about the little accident and she said it had already been broken so it wasn’t anything to worry about. Friend #1 was very relieved, and Friend #2 still gets jibes about his contagious guilt.)

(I am shopping for groceries one afternoon. I am 26 but look about 16, as I have always looked very young for my age. I am eight months pregnant with my first child. I am married but, due to swelling from pregnancy, I can’t wear my wedding ring, so I look 16, unwed, and pregnant. You can imagine. I am browsing the aisles when I overhear a mother tell her young daughter as they’re passing me.)

Mother: *points to me* “That right there is why you keep your legs closed.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Mother: “I was just telling my daughter she shouldn’t mess with boys because she will end up just like you. I mean, what kind of life can you provide for that baby? Are you still in school or did you drop out? Do you know the father?”

Me: “I will have you know that I am 26 years old, have graduated college, been married to the father of this baby for five years, and have a nice job at an accounting firm. My husband and I also planned to have this baby!”

Mother: “Well… *scoffs* “…you just look so young!”

Me: “Maybe you should teach your daughter to not be so judgmental of others and worry about your own parenting a little more!”

(I started wearing my wedding ring on a chain around my neck after that!)

(I have an intense hatred of being touched in certain places, such as my inner elbows and my wrists, with my neck and collarbones being the worst. Just being touched on my neck can cause me to have a panic attack, but this is usually not a problem, as I am careful to explain to anyone likely to get that close to me what my boundaries are. My boyfriend is completely understanding of this, and very aware of my limits. This takes place while we’re shopping one day, and I feel a hand on the back of my neck. I immediately freak out, and go to pieces, while turning to see a man standing behind me, looking pleased with himself.)

Man: “Your tag was sticking out.”

Boyfriend: “What?” *realizes I’m having a panic attack* “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Man: “The tag was sticking out of her shirt, but I got it.”

Boyfriend: “Can you give her some space? She needs to see you aren’t a threat so she can calm down.”

Man: “Is she seriously not even going to thank me?”

Boyfriend: “Take a step back. She hates being touched on her neck.”

Man: *getting angry* “Stupid b***, are you really going to say nothing? I was doing you a favour. I can’t believe you’re being so rude.”

(My boyfriend eventually calmed me down, and we moved away from the man, who continued to insist I owed him a ‘thank you.’)

(I’m watching my roommate’s ten-year-old son, who’s visiting while she’s at work. I wind up texting her this later.)

Me: “So, your son lost a tooth. And I discovered he’s ticklish.”

Roommate: “Those two things are related aren’t they?”

Me: “…maybe.”

(I am a 17-year-old girl, and have been a huge comic fan since I was about 12. A friend and I decide to see ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ together in full cosplay just for the h*** of it, but he bails at the last minute. I’m dressed as Black Widow, and as I’m standing in line for popcorn a guy wearing an Iron Man t-shirt approaches me.)

Guy: “Hey, where’s your boyfriend?”

Me: “Uh… what? I don’t have a boyfriend. Actually—”

Guy: “Lol, then who paid you to dress up like that?”

(Yes, he actually said ‘lol’ out loud.)

Me: “Nobody paid me. Natasha’s my favorite Marvel character, so I thought it’d be fun to cosplay her.”

Guy: “Yeah, right. I bet you only watch the movies because of all the hot guys.”

(By now, it’s my turn at the counter. As I’m trying to order, the guy keeps pestering me.)

Guy: “You fake geek girls are so f****** pathetic. You just want the D. Hey! Hey, b****, are you listening?”

(The (female) cashier looks at me, then at the guy, and sees what’s going on.)

Cashier: *to me* “Hey! Nice cosplay! What’s that from, the civil war ‘verse?”

Me: “Yeah! Good spotting!”

Cashier: “Here’s your popcorn, Miss Romanov. Enjoy the movie.”

(Later, after the movie, I saw the guy leave the theatre as soon as the credits started rolling, when every fan knows that Marvel movies always put extra scenes at the end of the closing credits. Who’s the fake geek now?)

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