Regina caused men to become rock-hard. It was a natural reaction in men's bodies that made it difficult to go on a date, or even to walk down the street. They usually lost all motor control and ability to converse. Their skin became rough and suddenly they couldn't pay for dinner. Or breathe. Or do much of anything at all.
Except maybe be pooped on by pigeons.
Her kind was referred to as gorgons, medusas, and all sorts of less-than-flattering names. She was hurt by all of them. Nobody said them to Regina's face - difficult to do when your jaw became petrified - but society cast her in the role of a villain whose head had to be cut off. Regina was glad that she didn't live in the age of her ancestors, when every young man with a sword thought that the path to manhood was lined with the decapitated heads of monsters.
No wonder she moved to an abandoned estate on the edge of an abandoned town, only close enough to civilization so that she could get internet orders delivered. She always included unattended delivery instructions.
So when a lightning strike turned her computer into a statue of silicon and plastic, Regina had to get it fixed, pronto. She pulled an old phonebook into service from its duty as a shim beneath a wobbly table and looked up computer repair shops to get her files recovered. The shop said that they'd send someone out the next day.
For twenty-four hours Regina panicked, then set the computer on the porch with an extension cord and a note saying that she wasn't home.
Regina watched from the windows. A car pulled up and an extremely tall, muscular man unfolded himself from the driver's seat and walked up the porch,tripping on a step on his way up. He read the note, scratched his head, wrote something on the note and left without touching the computer. Regina read it.
"Need to talk to you about what the problem is, please call and schedule another appointment. Trevor."
The computer had to be fixed - she got her food delivered. After careful thinking, she put together a head-to-toe outfit and called them back. The tall repairman came out and rang the bell.
"Hello," she said.
"Hi, are you Regina Bell?"
"Yes," she said.
"I'm Trevor Wallace with JQF Computer Service and Repair. May I see your computer?"
"Of course, it's in the office."
Before either of them could attempt any small talk, Trevor's foot caught on Regina's outfit and dragged off a few layers until Trevor could stare straight at her.
"Oh dear," he said, fumbling and apologizing, "I'm constantly tripping on stuff. I'm really sorry." He gathered what he'd pulled off and handed it to her.
She stared at him in amazement, which he took to be silent fury.
"Oh man, I'm really sorry. I can ask them to send out another technician if you want."
"No, that's quite alright. I'm just shocked that you can look at me."
"Um," said Trevor.
"It's just that I have a tendency to make men rock-hard."
"Um," said Trevor.
"When they look at me, I mean. I'm a monster. A gorgon."
"Where's the writhing crown of snakes?"
"That's a stereotype."
"Oh, I know those. I'm a golem."
"A what? But you can move."
"Want to talk about stereotypes?"
Regina peered closer. Trevor was, indeed, made of stone. But living stone.
"It's a turn-off, to a lot of women. They're always telling me that I'm a cold person. I'm a golem. If they really wanted I could stand in a fire for a little bit and warm up, but they never stick around that long."
"So are we supposed to hook up now?" Regina asked. "Tell each other our awkward moments?"
"I could just fix your computer," Trevor said.
"That's not as much fun," Regina said..
Then they did it.
The Moral: always use electrical protection for your computer.