My ex-husband is anti-trans. Apart from generally being a nasty person, his intolerance of anyone “other” is one of the reasons we are no longer together.

We don’t speak much, but we do have a little boy together.

Whilst our child is very active and likes toys that people generally associate with boys, he has a love of all things My Little Pony. He also does ballet, gymnastics, and karate. This is all by his choice. 

My ex isn’t really involved in any of the after-school clubs, though he does like to rant and rave about our son doing “girly” activities. I ignore him. It makes our child happy, so I don’t care.

One day, our child has a ballet recital after school, outside of his normal timetable and on one of my ex’s visit days. I ask my ex to take our son and he agrees very begrudgingly.

The next day, my ex drops off our child and hands me a Barbie in a firefighter outfit. He says nothing, and just walks away.

I ask our child what happened and why we now have a firefighter Barbie. My child explains that his father took him to the toy shop after the recital. My ex proceeded to offer him Legos, cars, and a vast array of toys that he deemed acceptable. My son wanted a firefighter to go with his fire engine, as he had lost the figure that came included.

The only firefighter doll in the shop was a Barbie.

My ex apparently went nuts, ranting and raving about our son becoming one of “those.” My son wasn’t scared, just confused. I asked if that was why Daddy was in a bad mood when he came to the door.

My son replied, “No, Mummy, it’s because the nice lady at the shop called daddy a bigot.”

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.

(This is 2008. In year 11, once again, we’re doing a section about relationships and safe sex. I have a fairly outspoken male classmate who is actually really easy to get on with and whom most the teachers like.)

Teacher: “So, when a husband and wife–“

Classmate: “Why they gotta be husband and wife?”

Teacher: “Good point. When a man and a woman–“

Classmate: “Why they gotta be a man and a woman?”

Teacher: “Er… When a male and a female–“

Classmate: “Why they gotta be a male and a female?”

Teacher: “What do you want from me?”

Classmate: “Why can’t it be ‘a man and a man’ or ‘a woman and a woman’ or… ‘a genderless and a genderless.’ Let’s get a bit of inclusivity in here!”

Teacher: “Last year, I had parents complain due to inclusivity.”

Classmate: “Well, that’s stupid.”

Teacher: “I know… So, when a person and a person–“

Classmate: “Why they gotta be people?”

Teacher: “You are not five!”

My mother-in-law is an amazing, sweet, kind, and generous woman, who I am lucky to call family. 

Yesterday, I was being released from hospital following major abdominal surgery. My husband was due to collect me after visiting his mum in a hospital local to our home. She had been in intensive care for the past three weeks with sepsis that wasn’t responding well to treatment. As he was about to leave his hospital, the doctor told him that his mum was not going to last much longer and he needed to stay with his dad and his sister for the end. He phoned me and told me the news and we agreed I would have to get a cab home despite the cost. 

I made the arrangements via the hospital’s concierge and sat to wait near another lady in the lobby. We sort of smiled at each other, and then she gestured to a bag the other side of her and asked if it was mine. I said no and pointed to my suitcase next to me and said that was all I had. 

We then struck up a short conversation about our reasons for being there. She asked what was wrong and said I seemed upset. I explained that my husband couldn’t collect me as his mum was dying and not expected to last long and that I was waiting for a cab. She instantly waved her hand and said her driver would take me home. I protested, as I already had the cab booked and it would be too far as I live the other side of the river, but she insisted and told the concierge to cancel my cab. Then, she told a gentleman outside the entrance to take my address and ensure her driver took me home as soon as possible. 

I was definitely overwhelmed by this point and forgot to ask for her name, but I did give her a hug and thank her for making my day so much easier. She then left with her assistant. When her car arrived, I got in with my suitcase, and then my husband called to tell me his mum had gone. Thanks to that incredibly generous stranger, I was able to be with him and the rest of our family when it really mattered and, yes, faith in humanity restored.

Me: “Good afternoon, this is [Travel Agent].”

Customer: “I am going to send this computer back to you.”

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, but you’ve come through to a travel agent; we don’t sell computers.”

Customer: “Never mind that. I bought a computer from your website and it’s not working. I am going to send it to you by post.”

Me: “Madam, you are more than welcome to send us your computer, but we are a travel agent. You’ve dialed the wrong number.”

Customer: “This is unacceptable. You have to stand by what you say on your website and take the computer back. It doesn’t work and it doesn’t even have Windows on it.”

Me: “I am sorry but I cannot help. This is the wrong number.”

Customer: “This is terrible. I am going to put it in my poem. I’m a poet, you know!”

Me: “That’s interesting, madam, but I still can’t help you. Thank you for your call.”

Customer: “I am going to put the computer in the post now. Let me know when you get it.” *hangs up*

Me: *facepalms*