(My husband and I met when I was working at a travel store. He had stopped in to look at satellite radios, and I was the one who ended up helping him. We’re talking about how we met a few years later.)

Husband: “Yeah, I just came in to buy a radio, and there you were.”

Me: “Well, it’s not like I was nice to you. I was mean to almost everybody so they’d leave me alone.”

Husband: “I know! But when you went and got the radio out of the case, you stayed kneeling on the ground and your pants slid down a little on the back and I could see your butt a little.”

Me: “Seriously?!”

Husband: “Well, yeah! You didn’t think I was looking at a radio for twenty minutes, did you?”

(I’m serving as a groomsman for a friend of mine and his younger brother. They are both getting married on the same day, and having a double wedding. While their fiancées are shopping elsewhere in the mall, us guys are all being fitted for our tuxedos. I’ve already tried mine on, and changed back to my street clothes. While my friend and his brother are trying their tuxes on, an older customer walks into the store with her grandson.)

Older Customer: “Look, [grandson]! They’re getting ready to have a wedding! Isn’t that precious?”

(She approaches me.)

Older Customer: “Who’s the lucky groom?”

Me: “They are.”

(I point to my friend and his brother, who are both in their suits. When the woman sees that there are two men putting on tuxedos, she shrieks, and her eyes get huge.)

Older Customer: “Oh, my God! You’re f***! Get out! Out, out, out, out!”

(She tries to rush over and grab them, but the store clerk steps in front of them.)

Clerk: “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you not to harass my other customers.”

Older Customer: “Those are God-hating sodomites! They’re liberal scum! It’s because of people like them that we have things like 9/11, and Hurricane Katrina! How can you let heathen filth like that into your store?! God will smite you and your whole f**-loving business!”

Clerk: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you keep speaking like that.”

Me: “Look, lady, they’re not even—”

Older Customer: “Quiet, you! You’re probably a f** too! This is a Christian nation, so if you don’t like it, then GET OUT! I won’t have you corrupting my grandson with your sinful ways!”

(While she is ranting, my friend and his brother’s fiancées walk in and tap the customer on the shoulder.)

Older Customer: “What do you want, you shameless Jezebel?!”

Friend’s Fiancée: “I was wondering if you’re done screaming at my future husband?”

(Both fiancées cross their arms, but leave their engagement rings VERY visible. The woman looks from the brides to the grooms, and back again.)

Older Customer: “I, uh—”

Friend’s Fiancée: “—was just leaving? Yes, I thought so.”

(She hangs her head, and trudges out of the store; her confused grandson following.)

Clerk: *to my friend* “I see why you’re marrying her!”

(My date needs to pick up some groceries before driving home so I tag along with him. I go off to the bathroom, but when I return, I see he’s dancing with a tiny, pull-around shopping cart.)

Me: “Oh, so you’d dance with a cart but not me?!”

My Date: “Well, you were gone and it was here. I shall name it Carty and it’ll be our Carty, forever and ever.”

Me: *fake sniffles*

(After our shopping trip, we have to put ‘Carty’ back.)

My Date: “Okay Carty, your family has to go now. But that’s okay because they’ll take care of you here. Bye bye Carty… we’ll miss you.”

Me: “You still danced with that cart instead of me.”

My Date: “At least I didn’t abandon you at the store.”

(I am in a comic book store that my boyfriend works at. While waiting for him to get off work I am reading a comic about a girl superhero with blue eyes are brown hair, wearing a revealing outfit. I’m fairly tall, and have brown hair and blue eyes. My bf is shorter and a bit husky. A Little boy and his father walk up to me.)

Little boy: “Oh, my God! Dad, it’s her! That’s the superhero on the book!”

Father: “Ha. No, no, its just a girl who looks like her. A pretty one at that. Hey beautiful, what you doing here alone?”

Me: “I’m just reading comic, and I’m not alone. My boyfriend is in the back.”

Father: “Eh, I kind of figured someone like you would have a boyfriend. You’ve got a great body. What’s he doing back there anyway? Beating up the nerds? You probably have a huge juice monkey of a boyfriend don’t you?”

Me: “Umm, no. He works here. There he is.”

(At this point my boyfriend comes out of the back, looking a bit more disheveled than usual, with his hair crazy and his glasses askew. He walks up to me and sees this guy leaning towards me.)

Boyfriend: “Hey babe, sorry I was a bit late.” *kisses me on cheek, then looks to the guy* “Can I help you, sir?”

(Father and son stare blankly at both of us, looking back and forth.)

Father: “No way, no way! Look at you! You’re a goddess! What are you? 6ft? Look at your waist and your boobs! Man how big are her boobs? Are those real? No way you could score with that! You’re a hooker maybe? You’ve got to be.”

Little boy: “Dad, he’s fat and short!”

Father: “Ya! Look at you! You’re a f***** hobbit! You can’t get with that!”

(I am visibly upset as my boyfriend just takes this. I have finally had enough and grab the guy off the ground by his shirt.)

Me: “You ain’t so hot yourself, bud. I suggest you don’t talk like this in front of your son. Now, get out of here before you make me do something I regret.”

(I put him back down and he leaves the store, swearing on the way out.)

Boyfriend’s co-worker: “Holy s***, man! She’s awesome! I thought you were joking when you said she was your girlfriend! How did you two meet?!”

Boyfriend and I: *in unison* “Comicon.”

(An acquaintance and I are getting materials for a costume we’re both working on, a Gundam (essentially, a giant robot). He’s the one that will be wearing the finished costume, while my costume is the technician from the same anime series; her outfit consists of a fitted and fairly short dress and jacket.)

Him: “Man, you gotta be careful at the convention!”

Me: “What?”

Him: “All those pervs and fanboys! Dat a** is gonna attract them like crazy.”

Me: “Eh, I can handle the creepers at the convention.”

Him: “Naw, it’ll be up to me to protect you from the creepy fanboys. I’m all up in that chivalrous honor thing.”

(I’ve known for awhile that he has a huge crush on me. I also know that he’s a horny pervert; he fronts it with this sort of faux-chivalry thing to try and get into a woman’s pants.)

Me: *starting to get annoyed* “I’m perfectly capable of telling a pervert off, y’know.”

Him: “Yeah, but these guys, they don’t take ‘no’ from a woman. They’ll listen to a guy telling them off! But don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the bad guys!”

Me: *visibly annoyed* “I don’t need a ‘protector’ at the convention. There will be security all over the place, and I am perfectly capable of inflicting grievous bodily harm in self-defense. Plus I’ve got pepper spray in my purse.”

Him: *oblivious* “Yeah, any guys try and get close to you, they’ll have to deal with me first, and I won’t take any of their s***!”

Me: *finally had it* “You won’t be dealing with anyone. You will be wearing a costume over seven feet tall. You’ll be on seven inch tall giant platform shoes. You are barely going to be able to walk, never mind ‘rescuing’ maidens from the scaaaary creepers at the convention.”

Him: “But you’ll be in that short dress!”

Me: “And you have no business dictating who is allowed to speak with me at the convention! You are not my boyfriend, you will never be my boyfriend, and if you were my boyfriend, that sort of attitude would bring that relationship to a screeching and immediate halt! Are we clear?”

Him: *shrinking back* “Okay, okay! You know I’m just looking out for you, babe.”

(He ended up getting the ‘just friends/no I will not sleep with you’ talk. Not too long after the convention, we had a rather major falling out and haven’t spoken since.)