So I am a short woman who is by no stretch of the imagination either heavy or strong, but I amclumsy. About a month after moving into my current place, I had an epic battle with a pair of jeans I'd forgotten were on the floor and my iron's chord. The end result was I busted a hole in my bathroom door, right about at handle level. (This was also an older complex, and the bathroom door happened to be theonly door that was one of those modern hollow ones and not one of the original solid slabs of wood.)

The maintenance guy was giving me such weird looks as I continued to insist that it was a fluke accident, and I honestly didn't connect the "he thinks this is domestic abuse" dots - I was too worried they'd decide I was a problem tenant, and this was hands down the best housing option for my grad program. I think he ended up replacing it with a solid wood door out of one of the units they were refurbishing, and I didn't question that, cause it looked nicer so I was thrilled.

But every time I saw him after that I'd get there kind of round-about questions about if I was doing okay, and I just assumed I looked tired and downtrodden because Gradschool Sucks. Then a solid 6 months later, he's there about my broken garbage disposal, and I could visibly See the moment he took in everything in my apartment and realized "oh, this girl's single as fuck and don't even invite guests over", and That's when I realized what he thought was going on.