My mother died the year after I finished high school. When the funeral service was over, I turned to see all my closest friends there — including one high school friend that had moved 800 km away. At the time I assumed she’d gotten time off from her job as I knew she’d gotten an apprenticeship.

I found out later that her boss had refused to give her the time off. So she quit her job and jumped on the first train she could to come and be with my family and me. She set her career back an entire year.

I love my friends.

(My boyfriend has taken up golfing and is always wanting me to go with him and his friend. I don’t really like golfing. I agree one day and go along with another of his friends who has never golfed before. It is a hot summer day.)

Boyfriend: “We’ll go in pairs. [My Name], you go with [Non-Golfer], because the two of you will just hold us back.”

(Halfway through the third hole, the non-golfing friend has had enough and decides to head to the clubhouse. I play through until I catch up to the other two. They are teeing off at a fairway that starts at the base of a hill. Each time they try, the ball just keeps going sideways into the rough. I tee up my ball as they are both searching in bushes.)

Boyfriend: “Ha, [Friend], just stop and watch this. We need something to laugh at.”

Friend: *as I start lining up my swing* “I can see what you meant when you said she can’t play golf… HEY, [My Name]! You are standing on the wrong side of the ball.”

Boyfriend: “No, she’s got that right; she’s left-handed.”

(I am feeling very self-conscious as I take my swing, expecting the ball to join them in the rough, but instead, it sails straight up the hill and over the top. I look up and see both of them with their jaws dropped.)

Friend: “What the f*** was that?”

(They both try a few more times before deciding that the heat is affecting them and calling it quits.)

Me: “But I want to finish this hole.”

Boyfriend: “Nope, it’s too hot; we are leaving.”

(And that was the last time he ever took me golfing.)

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(I am with my friend, who is an Assistance Dog trainer. She trains Seeing Eye Dogs, but also Autism Assistance Dogs. On this occasion she has one of her dogs with her, fully kitted out in its harness and vest – clearly a working dog. We enter a restaurant.)

Waitress: “Oh, no. No, no. No dogs. You cannot bring a dog in here.”

Friend: “This is a service dog. It is permitted.”

Waitress: “No way. You’re clearly not blind.”

(Our mouths both dropped as it is utterly illegal to turn away someone with an Assistance Dog in our state, even if it is only in training. We stared in silence until she begrudgingly let us in. Not all Assistance Dogs are for blind people, but ALL Assistance Dogs are permitted in restaurants!)

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(The ballet teacher is rather strict about not joking around in class even though we’re all adults. “Echappé” is where you jump from feet together to land with feet apart.)

Teacher: “And what does echappé mean?”

Me: “To escape.”

Teacher: “And what are we escaping from?”

Me: “You.”

(My husband is just about to go on a three-day camping trip with his friends. I don’t sleep very well when he’s away. He asks what he can do to help.)

Husband: “Feeling okay, my darling?”

Me: “Mehhh, just a bit tired. Hopefully I’ll sleep well.”

Husband: “Sleep well when I’m away? Right.”

Me: “I’m planning on a food coma.”

Husband: “Oh?”

Me: “All the ice cream. All of it.”

Husband: *laughs* “What type were you thinking of?”

Me: “Which part of ALL wasn’t clear?”

(He bought me a large take-home pack before he left.)