Friend: “Can I try something with you?”

Me: “What is it?”

(She grabs my arm and I pull back. I see something shiny in her hand and lean away from her as much as I can.)

Me: “What the h*** are you doing?!”

Friend: “I wanted to poke you with a needle.”

Me: “WHY?!”

Friend: “Because I read that gay people have an autonomic response that stops them bleeding.”

Me: “Where the h*** did you read that, 4chan?!”

Friend: “Yahoo.”

Me: “Well, it’s wrong. Completely wrong!”

(She tried to convince me to do it, but I flat out refused and moved to another seat. There were two other gay people in our lecture that we both knew about. I heard one of them yelp a few minutes later. I wish I was joking…)

(For the past few months, I have been having heavy periods and horrific pain, so bad that I ended up going to A&E twice in one week. Eventually, I get a gynaecology appointment, a month after my emergency trips, though at a hospital I have never been to. However, it is the earliest available date and I need it. After a few questions…)

Doctor: “Do you use birth control?”

Me: “No. I’ve never had sex. It causes me so much pain that I have to stop immediately. I can’t even have physical examinations, because the smallest equipment hurts so much.”

Doctor: “Is there any chance that you are pregnant?”

Me: “…”

(I’m now waiting for another appointment to pop up.)

(Our manager is taken sick at work and we have to call an ambulance. As a result, we’re closing early. Although we’ve put signs up, no one reads them, so I am standing at the door asking people not to come inside. Our shop is in the same building as a bookshop, which is remaining open.)

Me: “Sorry, guys, we’re closing early today, due to our manager being unwell.”

Customer: “I just want a hot chocolate.”

Me: “Unfortunately, we’re closing, and all the machines are being turned off.”

(As she is launching into a rant, the ambulance pulls up and paramedics go inside.)

Customer: “But I want a hot chocolate! No one else sells this hot chocolate! Can’t you just pour out some you’ve already made?”

Me: “We don’t have any made up right now; everything has been cleared away.”

(She looks at the sign, which says the bookshop is remaining open.)

Customer: “Where is [Bookshop] then?”

Me: “It’s just next door.”

(She peers through the door at the displays.)

Customer: “Oh. I thought you were trying to help me find another cafe. The least you could do is put a sign up.”

(She walked away in a huff, and people kept coming to the door and asking why we were closed, even whilst they could see the paramedics inside!)

(My little sister is sick and I’ve been asked to watch her. Her medicine has the effect of making the user a bit high. I put on one of her favorite shows and start texting my friends. Suddenly I hear the shatter of glass.)

Sister: “BEGONE YE WINDOW!”

(She had jumped through or glass door. She has a huge piece of glass stuck in her arm.)

Me: “Oh, my God! Stay still! Why the heck did you do that?!”

(She remains quiet as I pull out the glass shard and bandage her arm. She smiles brightly when I’m done.)

Sister: “Well, you know us werewolves. We can’t stand glass.”

Me: “…I think you need to lay down and stop watching YouTube for a while.”

(I am what you call an “early bloomer”. I start menstruating at ten years old, right before starting fifth grade. I am the only girl in my class with her period for most of the year, and it is also the first year I have ever had a male teacher. My mom even makes a point of sending a note to school, letting him and the front office know I’ve already started menstruating, and that I have permission to get Tylenol from the nurse if needed, etc. The teacher is a nice guy, but new to teaching, and I think he tries to be more strict than necessary to set a precedent. It’s important to note that I am also one of those kids who has zero embarrassment talking about any subject.)

Me: *approaching his desk during a worksheet period* “Mr. [Teacher]? May I go to the bathroom?”

Teacher: “[My Name], you’ve been to the bathroom three times already today. I don’t appreciate you trying to skip out on class time. You can wait until we take our break, an hour from now.”

Me: “Mr. [Teacher], I really need to go. I’ll be very fast!”

Teacher: “No. This isn’t funny. Now, sit down and wait.”

Me: “But, I…”

Teacher: “There is no reason you should need to go a fourth time since this morning.”

Me: *getting frustrated* “There is a reason!”

Teacher: “All right, what reason could you possibly have?”

Me: “I’m on my period! It’s bad this time, and my pad has already filled up with blood! I’m sitting in blood!”

Teacher: *half the class stares while he turns a few shades of red, before handing me the hall pass* “Go to the bathroom, [My Name].”

Me: “Thank you.”

(That happened multiple times throughout the year. He just couldn’t seem to remember that this was going to happen every month. Eventually, I had to start letting the nurse [who my mom was friends with] know on the days my period had started, just to have some backup that I was telling the truth.)