(For my 21st birthday, my boyfriend, who hates dancing, agrees to go out with a few friends to a club. The club that I have picked is a known gay club, and my boyfriend is a bit iffy about going. When we get there, we notice that there are three, almost naked male go-go dancers.)

Me: “Wow, I didn’t know that they were going to have go-go dancers here!”

Boyfriend: “Well, they look pretty cut.”

(My boyfriend wanders off to talk to one of the dancers. After a minute or two, he pulls a dollar bill out and tips one of them before wandering back.)

Me: “…Did you just tip him?”

Boyfriend: “Well, to be fair, he is pretty hot.”

Me: “Do I need to worry about losing you to a guy?”

Boyfriend: “If they all looked like them, maybe.”

(This happened many years ago, when the drinking age was just 18 and our state driver’s licenses had descriptions, not photos. While I worked for many years and in nearly every position in the restaurant industry, in this incident my friends and I were the customers, and we behaved badly.)

(Five of us—my brother and I, and three friends (two of which are brothers), are trying to get into a nightclub. Four of us are of age, but one of our friends is only 17 and underage. His older brother, who is 21 and with us, has given his 17-year-old brother an expired copy of his license to try and sneak him in; note that the two brothers are the same height, weight, hair, and eye color. As expected, the bouncer lets four of us in, but stops when he looks at our underaged friend’s ID.)

Bouncer: “Hey, this guy has the same name as that guy, there!”

(Our underage friend freezes: the jig is up. In one last desperate effort to save the situation, I blurt out the first thing that came into my mind with all the exasperated disdain a 21-year-old punk can muster.)

Me: “OF COURSE they have the same name! They’re identical twin brothers! What do you expect? Come on!”

Bouncer: “Oh, sorry. Okay, then. Go on through.”

(To that bouncer, should he read this and remember: Sorry, man!)

(I am waiting in the queue with a friend. We notice a group of girls pushing from the back of the queue past everyone, whilst loudly proclaiming that they are on the guest list. My friend and I decide to form a wall and stop them getting past us.)

Girl: “Move, we are on the guest list.”

Me: “Guest list closed at 11 pm.”

Girl: “But we have queue jump!”

Me: “No, you don’t.”

(I turn around and ignore them until we reach the bouncers at the front. By now the girls are loud and aggressive, my friend has been punched.)

Girl: *to bouncer* “These guys aren’t letting us past! We have guest list!”

Bouncer: “Calm down, you can’t just push in.”

Girl: “We didn’t start pushing; these d***s aren’t letting us past.”

Bouncer: “It’s a queue. Why would they?”

Girl: “Because we f***ing told them we have queue jump!”

Bouncer: “Aw! Why didn’t you tell us that? Come forward.” *cue big smiles from girls* “Now jump your a**es to the back of the queue.”

Me: “Hey, what can I get you?”

Customer: “I would like two bottles of water, please.”

(I give the water to the customer.)

Me: “That’s £5 please.”

Customer: “Excuse me? How much?”

Me: “£2.50 each, so £5.”

Customer: “That’s disgusting. How do you get away with charging that much for water? I am only willing to pay 50p for both as it’s only bottled tap water.”

Me: “It’s not tap water; it’s mineral water. Tap water is free if you want it.”

(The customer hands me £10.)

Customer: “I expect £9.50 change as I’m not paying that much.”

(I hand the customer £5 change.)

Me: “No, it’s £5 change.”

Customer: “I’m just f***ing with you. You’re just so beautiful I thought you deserved some abuse!”

(My friend’s friend has been trying to get my attention for around four months. I can offer no excuses for myself aside from that I cannot take hints. We are out with friends at a rock club, and our mutual friend had told me at the beginning of the evening that his friend is going to ask me out. Five hours later, though, nothing has happened. It is 3 am and we have left the club, I see him walking up the road so I chase him.)

Me: “Hey! Uh, so… how was your day?”

Him: “It was okay.”

Me: “Anything exciting happen?”

Him: “I had a fry-up.” *thinks for a second* “It was a good fry-up.”

Me: “Uhm…”

Him: “Also, [mutual friend] said that he’d break my legs if I didn’t ask you out.”

Me: “Well. I guess you’d better get on with it then.”

Him: “Do… you want to go out sometime?”

Me: “That’d be great. Yes.”

(I take his arm and we continue up the street.)

Him: “Well, that was easier than I thought.”

(At this point, another of our friends, who is very, very drunk, runs up and grabs my now-boyfriend’s other arm.)

Drunk friend: “Oi! I want an arm! I love you [boyfriend’s name]!”

Him: “Hey, [drunk friend’s name]! Wanna go out sometime?”

Drunk friend: “Yeah man! I love you!”

Him: “See! So much easier than I thought! Who else can I ask?”