(I’m in a college tutorial class, where instead of a large seminar room, about 20 of us are sat in a smaller room with a few group tables. There is a table I’ve sat at because I think one of the guys is cute; however, I don’t say a word to him. The lecturer wants us to refer to our textbook for the tutorial, but I haven’t bought it yet. The guy I like has taken a picture of someone else’s book on his iPad.)

Guy: *glances over* “Do you want the picture?”

Me: “Uh… Yeah. Sure.”

Guy: “Okay, what’s your number? I can send it to you.”

Me: *being super clueless* “It’s okay; don’t worry!”

(I legitimately go to take a picture of his screen with my phone.)

Guy: “Er, I think sending it to your number is better.”

Me: “Huh?”

Guy: “Jesus. I want your number!”

(After the class, he messaged me and said I made his ploy to get my number quite awkward!)

(I am about eight months pregnant. I’m carrying small, and from the back, if you can’t see my belly, I don’t look pregnant at all. Plus, my body is giving me a pregnancy advantage: cleavage. To top it all off, my hair and skin have never looked better. I’m sitting behind my desk, working Friday evening store hours, when another bookstore owner, who is also a customer of ours, comes in. I haven’t met him before, but my store owner tells me he’s recently divorced — and a big flirt, which is one of the things that led to his divorce.)

Customer: “I’m going to fly to Paris next weekend!”

Me: “That sounds terrific! Have a wonderful time.”

Customer: “Have you ever been to Paris?”

Me: “No, I haven’t.”

Customer: “You should come to Paris with me! I’ve been several times. I’ll show you all the sights! It’s a beautiful city; very romantic. We’ll have a fabulous time.” *sits on the front edge of my desk, leaning in suggestively*

Me: “Oh, I don’t think so. My doctor says it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to fly. I’m not even able to go to Israel later this month with my husband.”

(I push my chair back to get some space from him and stand up.)

Customer: *awkward pause, and then turns to my boss* “Are the bindings still up on the second floor?”

(My sex drive is considerably higher than my boyfriend’s, which isn’t usually a problem, except occasionally when he’ll worry that he’s pressuring me into sex, which at least with me, is virtually never the case. We’re talking about this at one point.)

Me: “With me, you can basically assume that if you want sex, I’ll also be down for it, and on the one-in-a-thousand chance that I’m not, I’ll just let you know. I’m like a siren, except less likely to lure you in and drown you.”

Boyfriend: “Are sirens known for being lustful? I thought they were mostly about the drownings.”

Me: “Hmm. A succubus then? Or a lamia, except less likely to steal your body heat?”

Boyfriend: “Now that’s a total lie; you steal my body heat constantly! We go to sleep, and you’re like, ‘Mmmm, come here; you’re so warm,’ and then I feel your icy feet!'”

Me: “Okay, we’ve found it. I’m a lustful lamia, except more likely to annoy you with cold feet than to freeze you to death!”

(A year later, he still uses “lamia” as a pet name. It very much amuses me!)

(I am talking to a guy on [Dating App]. After a good while of talking:)

Guy: “Wow! We have so much in common. You are the perfect woman. Smart, beautiful… May I ask what your height is?”

Me: “Sure. I’m 1m, 53cm tall.”

Guy: Awww. Almost perfect. Oh, well, I usually like taller women, but I can try to overlook your defect.”

(I obviously tell him off and never speak to him again, until, on a different social media platform:)

Guy: “Hi! I saw your pictures and I think we have a lot in common. Can we talk and get to know each other?”

(Is he for real?!)

(I am giving a dateless young coworker tips on attracting women. We’re both men.)

Me: “Do all that, and you’ll have the beat them off with a stick!”

Young Coworker: *annoyed* “I’ll beat you off with a stick!”

Me: “Your hand will be fine.”