Me: “I feel icky.”

Boyfriend: *demanding tone* “Feel better instead.”

Me: “You’re so bossy.”

Boyfriend: “Only because I care.”

Me: “Fascist.”

Boyfriend: “Yup.”

(I’ve just started dating a guy that I met whilst at a festival. Our feelings are strong for each other even though it’s only been a matter of weeks. This takes place in a popular restaurant.)

Boyfriend: “I shouldn’t have ordered the hot chicken. Medium would have done perfectly. My mouth is on fire!”

Me: “It’s not your mouth I feel sorry for. It’s the wrath you will force upon the toilet tomorrow morning. It’ll be like pooping out lava from a volcano!”

Boyfriend: “This is why I love you.”

(His eyes resemble a deer in headlights after he realises what he’s just said.)

Me: “It took a comment about lava poo to tell me you love me? I’ll take that! I love you too, babe.”

(That was almost 3 years ago, we’re now engaged to be married!)

(It is a Wednesday. My brother is watching a football match on TV. I notice him popping the tab on a can.)

Me: “Is that alcohol?”

Brother: *gestures at the TV with the can* “Football.”

Me: “That’s not an answer.”

Brother: “Yeeeaah, it is…”

(I live in a town that is very liberal, and as a result, my parents tend to be very welcoming and accepting towards everyone, almost to a fault. My little brother recently came out to me as bisexual and is working up the courage to tell our parents. I’m sitting in the kitchen with my mom when he comes in.)

Brother: “Mom, I have something I want to tell you. I’m bi.”

Mom: “Okay, cool.”

(He walks out, satisfied. Mom turns to me.)

Mom: “Did I handle that right? Do you think I should get him a pastry?”

Me: “…A what?”

Mom: “A pastry. To celebrate? Like a cake?”

Me: *Pause* “No.”

(That night at dinner, while my brother is out of the room:)

Mom: “Oh, [Brother] shared some news with me.”

Dad: *without looking up* “So, he’s gay, right?”

This story is part of the Bisexuality roundup!

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Read the Bisexuality roundup!

(My father, who lives in another state, is visiting with us. He takes us to a local diner for breakfast. My father routinely drinks several cups of coffee in the morning, and he has just finished cup #3 when our waitress arrives to refill it.)

Dad: “Oh, thanks! I was just about to look for you to ask for more.”

Waitress: “No problem. None of us are any good without our coffee in the morning!”

Dad: “Really? I was always told I was pretty good in the morning!”

Me: *speechless*