(I have brought home some sort of artisan smoked bacon gouda. My boyfriend reads the package and sneers disdainfully.)

Boyfriend: “This bacon-everything craze is overrated. It’s probably gross.”

Me: “Yeah, but it was half-off clearance, so I figured why not?” 

(I say this, turning my back momentarily. I turn back around to see my boyfriend, eyes dilated with the remains of the package that looks like it’s been ravaged by a raccoon.) 

Boyfriend: “Can… can you get more?”

Me: “Did you even save me any?!”

Boyfriend: “NO!” *snarls, backing away and gathering his beard crumbs possessively*

Years ago, my best friend, who is male, met a really cool girl who liked all the same music that he did. There was never anything there romantically, but they often went to gigs together and he would show me the photos afterward.

Despite the fact my best friend had become close with this girl, I never actually met her, but I had seen photos on social media and had spoken over MySpace — under a ridiculous emo name — etc.

This was about ten years ago, when we were all heading to university and we lost touch. My best friend moved far away and my online-only friendship with this girl ended.

Over a year ago, a new guy started working at my office, and there was an immediate attraction. I recognised his face and his surname. Pre-transition, he had been the girl that I used to chat with online! I didn’t want to say anything, because he passed well and no one in the office knew. So, I kept quiet.

This guy and I got very close very quickly. Just for context: I am a stereotypical girly-girl. Long hair, likes makeup and dresses, etc. And before long, I asked him out on a date.

The date went brilliantly, and one date became two, and two became more. My boyfriend still hadn’t broached the subject of his gender, which was fine. But I could tell that he was worried about telling me, and he later admitted that he had dug himself into a hole about it.

One day, my boyfriend sat me down. He was somber. I honestly thought that someone in his family had died! The moment had come. Before he had a chance to speak, I put the poor bloke out of his misery.

I explained that I was pansexual, and that I knew who he was. I showed him my old emo MySpace. Suddenly, he remembered who I was! We had a good laugh about it.

We’d both done the exact same thing to each other: kept quiet just to not rock the boat. Sums us both up, really.

We’re still together and happy. I plan to ask him to marry me on his birthday next month.

(My boyfriend and I are laying in bed discussing the day, and I notice something. I’m a little sleepy and giggly.)

Me: “You’ve got a long hair in your ear!”

Boyfriend: “I’m getting ooooold.”

Me: “I’m not kidding. It’s, like, half an inch long!”

Boyfriend: “I mean, you’ve seen my super long eyebrow hair, right?!”

Me: “Oh, yeah. This one?”

(I reach out to pull it a bit and it just comes right out.)

Me: “Oh, no! No! It came out!”

Boyfriend: “JEREMY, NOOOOO!”

(During a vacation with my girlfriend, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend, we stop in a casino. This particular casino allows smoking inside, but also has designated non-smoking areas, including a non-smoking casino. This is heaven for me, since my allergies have been acting up the whole trip and tobacco smoke, while normally just a smelly bother, is now making things worse. Within the first hour of our visit, three of us have rotten luck — unable to get even some baby wins to keep us playing a little longer — and want to jump back in our car and take off.)

Boyfriend: “Uh, I just ordered a beer.” *holds up a half-full beer bottle* “Can I finish it off?”

Sister: “Yeah, sure. What’s one beer, right?”

(My girlfriend and I agree. Due to how quickly each of us lost $50, we opt not to gamble anymore, instead waiting in a hall just outside the casino’s restaurant. The problem with that is that this put us directly adjacent to an area that allows smoking, and the air conditioning is blowing the smoke our way. I spend the next 15 minutes sneezing almost constantly with tears streaking across my face.)

Girlfriend: “He nursing that beer?”

Me: “I’ll find him. I need to head through, anyway.”

(Within the non-smoking casino is the nearest restroom, which in turn means it has the nearest tissues to blow my nose. Before I head there, I wander around the casino for a while until I find him.)

Me: “Hey, what’s up?”

Boyfriend: “Just playing. What’s up with you?”

Me: “The girls and I are getting killed by the smoke and would like to leave.”

Boyfriend: “Sure. Just let me finish my beer.” *holds up a nearly-full bottle*

(I shrug and make my way to the restroom. Yes, he ordered another beer. But since he knew we wanted to leave, I conclude he has to be on a hot streak, and I’m not about to break it. I rejoin the girls and relay all of this, and we agree to wait. So begins a 30-minute wait of pure agony for me. Over the course of this, I cross to the restroom a few more times, trying to see how he’s doing each time. Each time, he’s too engrossed to look up, and I ignore him thinking he’s winning. On the last trip, as I am making my way back to the girls, I bump into his girlfriend, who is extremely cranky at this point. I direct her to where I last saw her boyfriend to see what she can do.)

Sister: “[Boyfriend]! What the f***?”

Boyfriend: “Oh, hey! What’s up?”

Sister: “We want to go! Finish up!”

Boyfriend: “C’mon! I’m feeling lucky!”

(At that, she leans over and whispers into his ear. I don’t know what she says, but from the way his face lights up, it has to be dirty.)

Boyfriend: “Just let me cash in!”

Sister: “Five minutes!”

(We resume our positions, and five minutes turns into ten.)

Sister: “Let’s go! If he’s winning this much, he can take a limo back to the hotel!”

(We pile in and drive off. Probably two hours later, I get a call. Guess who?)

Me: “Hey, [Boyfriend]! Where are you?”

Boyfriend: “In front of [Casino]’s parking lot. Where are you guys?”

Me: “We took off a while ago.”

Boyfriend: “Oh. So… when can I expect you?”

Me: “We’re not dropping everything for you. Take your winnings and get a car.”

Boyfriend: “I don’t have any winnings. I’m broke.”

Me: “What do you mean, you’re broke? You kept going after your luck soured?”

Boyfriend: “No, I had no luck all day.”

Me: “So, why the f*** did you keep playing when we wanted to leave?”

Boyfriend: “I figured my luck would have to change eventually and I’d get it back.”

(Despite my better judgement, I dropped everything to get him. He never told me personally how much he lost, but the tongue-lashing he got continued until the following morning, and based on the clothes scattered around their room, I’m pretty sure there was suspicion he was trying to hide his winnings. The rest of the trip was tense, with none of us talking to him. Once the trip was over — and I mean, immediately upon dropping him off at his apartment — the sister broke up with him.)

When I first started dating my boyfriend, he had a female friend that obviously had feelings for him. My boyfriend is on the spectrum, and I can honestly say that he never noticed. But I did.

I hadn’t seen the girl in a while when my boyfriend came home looking very confused — not angry or upset, but perplexed.

He told me that the girl had told him that I had cheated on him the night before, and she had seen me at the local club dancing with lots of men and women before going home with one.

When my boyfriend asked his friend to clarify, she said, “I knew it was her because of her horrible, bright green hair! She looks like a goblin, ugh!”

My boyfriend’s confusion stemmed from the fact I had dyed my hair from the green to cotton candy pink the month before.

Because he has Asperger’s, he was more concerned that the girl couldn’t tell the difference between green and pink than her lies. He informed her of all of this in his usual impassive way.

She ran away crying.

Thus the friendship ended, running its course.