(I am talking to an acquaintance about an upcoming LGBT Pride parade.)

Him: “How do you identify?”

Me: “I’m bi and genderqueer. You?”

Him: “I’m pansexual and male.”

Me: “Cool. Come to think of it, nobody in my house is straight.”

Him: “Really?”

Me: “Yeah, we’re all bisexual and genderqueer or transgender!”

Him: “That’s awesome! You could have awesome parties! It’s like a puzzle where all the pieces fit!”

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13 Reasons Why You Need To Better Understand Asexuality

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(I’m sick and in a lousy mood, particularly because I’m stressed about homework and how much time I’ve spent napping. My best friend is texting me trying to cheer me up. He’s also the voice of reason every time I’m being irrational.)

Me: “I don’t want to move.”

Best Friend: “Aw, I’m sorry…”

Me: “But I’ve been in bed two and a half hours.”

Best Friend: “Just make yourself do it, then. I know you can.”

Me: “But you’re always right and that would mean I’d have to move…”

Best Friend: “Yup!”

Me: “…s***, I have to pee. You win.”

(I’m getting married in May, and my very best friend is my maid-of-honor. We have a rather unique relationship which usually consists of death threats and professions of love. She is currently obsessed with wearing monkey slippers with her maid-of-honor gown at my wedding.)

Best Friend: “I just don’t see why I can’t wear monkey slippers down the aisle at your wedding. I think I should get to wear them!”

Me: “We’ve been through this before. NO MONKEY SLIPPERS!”

Best Friend: “We’ll see what happens.”

Me: “At this rate, you’re going down the aisle in a wheelchair.”

Best Friend: “What does my going down the aisle in a wheelchair have to do with my wearing monkey slippers?”

Me: “Because I’m going to break BOTH your feet, and then your monkey slippers won’t be able to FIT over your casts!”

Best Friend: *pauses*

Me: *pauses*

Best Friend: “Let’s just wait and see what happens.”

Me: “NO MONKEY SLIPPERS!”

(The three of us are artists.)

Friend #1: “A friend of mine is going paint-balling this weekend.”

Me: “Ooh, I’ve done that. It’s so much fun!”

Friend #2: “I’ve never done it. It’s quite dangerous though, isn’t it?”

Me: “Yeah, the pellets hurt a lot but it’s still fun!”

Friend #1: “You just want to shoot things, don’t you?”

Friend #2: “I’d be a paint-sniper, hiding in a tree and just blasting everyone! Oh, but I’d need a knife in case anyone got too close.”

Me: “A palette knife!”

Friend #2: “Yeah, a palette knife! And just swipe everyone with paint-brushes!”

Me: “Stick the palette knife on the end of the paint-ball gun, like a bayonet!”

Friend #1: “What the h*** is wrong with you people?”

Friend #2: “We’re creative!”

(My best friend and I have gone together to a theme park in June. It’s a few weeks before schools are due to break up. We are both 25, but my friend is very petite and is frequently mistaken for a 12 year old. When out together, I’ve been mistaken for her mother more than once. Whilst we’re eating a woman walks past and glares at me.)

Woman: *to me* “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “Taking your daughter out of school to take her to a theme park! You can be fined for that, you know, or even jailed!”

Me: “Ma’am, I think you—”

Woman: “And you must have had her when you were a TEENAGER! Teenage pregnancies outside of wedlock! What a disgrace! This country is going to the dogs.”

(She continues on in a similar vein, drawing stares from others around us. I’m opening my mouth to protest again when my friend cuts in.)

Friend: “Oh, for f***’s sake, lady! I’m 25, and so is my friend. I’m not a tween, or a truant, or any of that other crap, and she isn’t a teenage mother! So, how about you go away and let us eat our food in peace!”

(The woman turned very red. She mumbled an apology, and then walked away.)