Bzzz.

Why do small stinging insects want to be my friend? That's the second time today a wasp has been flying around my head, and I hate them. I won't kill them - I don't kill anything creepy-crawly wise, mosquitoes included, and you mock me now but you won't be laughing next time I'm in a mosquito-infested place and they're biting you instead - but I hate wasps, and yet they always go for me. In between my somewhat undignified combination of yelping and arm-flailing, my very supportive friends have gone from saying I'm irrational to object to wasps buzzing around me (how is it irrational? They sting! It hurts!) to admitting that wasps really do seem to like me better than anyone else.

Current favourite theories on why this is include "you're wearing a purple scrunchie" and "they must like the smell of your conditioner". There might be something to the first one, since wasps have been trying to make friends with me ever since I was 16 and wouldn't wear anything but purple, but I refuse to let an insect dictate my taste in clothes. So I'm doomed to be Wasp-Friend for the rest of my days.

My housemate says "They think you're a flower. Take it as a compliment."