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I was groomed as a child and I didn’t know

2020.10.21 05:14 Lonely_Mailbox I was groomed as a child and I didn’t know

When I was 11 years old I played a game called Minecraft, I was obsessed with this game and to this day I still play it. I am 20 years old now.
I met a player on one of the servers and played for hours, maybe even everyday. We shared the same interests and was an admin on the server we played on, he was well known and popular. A few months passed and I found out he is from the UK, around 30 minutes away from myself, so I added him on Skype to voice chat rather than typing on the server.
A few years pass, I am now just turned 14 and he is now 16, turning 17 in August. I was very close with this boy, he knew my secrets, my problems, my likes, my dislikes. Absolutely everything about me, he was my best friend. Because he was older I thought he was cool and funny, handsome too. So I had a little crush on him. I didn’t settle in well when I started secondary school and he was there to comfort me when I needed it with no judgement. We Skyped every night, including video chat now. He would comment on my complexion and how I am beautiful, how I am developing into a young woman.
That’s where it started. We started video chats, he would ask me what I was wearing that day and I would show him my outfits, and then we would eventually move onto choosing my outfit for the next day. I would parade on camera in a number of outfits before he chose what he liked best. The less clothing the better. One night, we were choosing what I should wear to go to a friends birthday party, and he asked me “Why do you always turn the camera off when you change? You’re really pretty, no need to turn it off” after a few minutes of encouragement, I did it. I didn’t turn the camera off. I don’t know why, but I didn’t.
From there it progressed quickly, he would ask more private questions and we would talk about if I had done anything with any boys before, he would talk about sexual subjects and I enjoyed it, I shouldn’t have but I did, because it was my crush. Who was 16.
August 13th 2014, he wanted to meet me, at his home. I agreed to. I travelled on the train to meet him on the Saturday to spend the night, August 16th. I told my parents I was sleeping at my friends house who lives close by, they had no reason not to believe me and her house was on the way to the train station.
I arrived, eventually. He didn’t meet me at the train station like he promised, he told me to get a taxi and to come to his address, which I did. I knocked on the door and he greeted me, he was extremely tall. Around 6ft 3 and was really happy to see me. He looked a little older than he did on camera but everything was great, he hugged me we chatted and I went inside.
We played games for hours, had food, watched a film, it was late in the evening. I was getting tired, so he suggested having a drink, I opted for a coke and He came back shortly from the kitchen with the fizzy drink of my choice. I took a few sips. From then on I felt very tired, I couldn’t fight falling asleep so I did.
I woke up with a weight on my chest, I felt hot and I couldn’t move, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and he was on top of me, I couldn’t move. I fell asleep. I woke up the next morning tucked in bed, my previous clothes on from the day before with a sharp headache, I remember lifting the covers and there was blood on the sheets. The sheets were pastel blue. Panicked, I rushed into the bathroom, I thought I came on my period, but my period was only two weeks ago. Embarrassed and sat on the toilet, I grab a tampon and make my way downstairs.
He greets me as I come down, “How was your sleep?” I remember saying it was okay, and that I had a slight headache. He explained that he carried me upstairs as I fell straight asleep after drinking my coke, he didn’t want to wake me and tucked me in bed. So I thanked him and was a little embarrassed about how much of a heavy sleeper I am. I mentioned that I had an accident on the bed, I apologised profusely and he put the sheets straight in the washing machine and assured me that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, as I am a woman now. He made me breakfast, he knew I loved pancakes and made some especially for me, ate with me and called a taxi afterwards. I arrived home safely and he text me to ask if I got home okay and when we could next meet.
This happened twice and when I got home from visiting a second time he blocked me, on everything. I was so upset for weeks even.
Looking back, I know I was raped, at least once. I don’t think the man was 16, and I don’t think that the address I attended to was his home either. I am still trying to come to terms with the fact that I was groomed for 3 years and raped but I am coping nonetheless. I have been visiting a councillor for quite awhile, and this was one of our breaking points. I hope that if I talk about it, it will help in the long run. I am scared that he is still out there and that I may have not just been the only girl it happened to.
submitted by Lonely_Mailbox to adultsurvivors [link] [comments]


2020.10.20 06:16 Temporary_Scratch_14 SKRIBBL WORD LIST

Pac-Man
bow
Apple
chest
six pack
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tornado
Mickey Mouse
Youtube
lightning
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Donald Trump
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Superman
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island
Pikachu
Harry Potter
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Facebook
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Twitter
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Jesus Christ
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Pepsi
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smile
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Angry Birds
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Captain America
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electric guitar
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Japan
thin
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Phineas and Ferb
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Mark Zuckerberg
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Tails
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Eminem
Jimmy Neutron
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KFC
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England
Medusa
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Skittles
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popular
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Las Vegas
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Tower Bridge
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Ikea
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Kermit
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Reddit
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grasshopper
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cathedral
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toilet
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computer
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ski jump
polo
ravioli
delivery
woodpecker
logo
Stegosaurus
diss track
Darwin Watterson
filmmaker
silence
dashboard
echo
windshield
Home Alone
tablecloth
backflip
headboard
licorice
sunshade
Picasso
airbag
water cycle
meatloaf
insomnia
broom
whale
pie
demon
bed
braces
fence
orange
sleep
gift
Popsicle
spear
zebra
Saturn
maze
chess
wire
angel
skates
pyramid
shower
claw
hell
goal
bottle
dress
walk
AC/DC
tampon
goatee
prince
flask
cut
cord
roof
movie
ash
tiger
player
magician
wool
saddle
cowboy
derp
suitcase
sugar
nest
anchor
onion
magma
limbo
collar
mole
bingo
walnut
wealth
security
leader
melt
Gandhi
arch
toy
turd
scientist
hippo
glue
kneel
orbit
below
totem
health
towel
diet
crow
addiction
minigolf
clay
boar
navy
butcher
trigger
referee
bruise
translate
yearbook
confused
engine
poke
wreath
omelet
gravity
bride
godfather
flu
accordion
engineer
cocoon
minivan
bean bag
antivirus
billiards
rake
cement
cauliflower
espresso
violence
blender
chew
bartender
witness
hobbit
corkscrew
chameleon
cymbal
Excalibur
grapefruit
action
outside
guillotine
timpani
frostbite
leave
Mont Blanc
palette
electrician
fitness trainer
journalist
fashion designer
bucket
penguin
sheep
torch
robot
peanut
UFO
belt
Earth
magnet
dragon
soccer
desk
search
seal
scribble
gender
food
anvil
crust
bean
hockey
pot
pretzel
needle
blimp
plate
drool
frog
basement
idea
bracelet
cork
sauce
gang
sprinkler
shout
morning
poodle
karate
bagel
wolf
sausage
heat
wasp
calendar
tadpole
religion
hose
sleeve
acorn
sting
market
marble
comet
pain
cloth
drawer
orca
hurdle
pinball
narwhal
pollution
metal
race
end
razor
dollhouse
distance
prism
pub
lotion
vanish
vulture
beanie
burp
periscope
cousin
customer
label
mold
kebab
beaver
spark
meme
pudding
almond
mafia
gasp
nightmare
mermaid
season
gasoline
evening
eel
cast
hive
beetle
diploma
jeep
bulge
wrestler
Anubis
mascot
spinach
hieroglyph
anaconda
handicap
walrus
blacksmith
robin
reception
invasion
fencing
sphinx
evolution
brunette
traveler
jaguar
diagram
hovercraft
parade
dome
credit
tow truck
shallow
vlogger
veterinarian
furniture
commercial
cyborg
scent
defense
accident
marathon
demonstration
NASCAR
Velociraptor
pharmacist
Xerox
gentleman
dough
rhinoceros
air conditioner
poop
clock
carrot
cherry
candle
boots
target
wine
die
moon
airplane
think
pause
pill
pocket
Easter
horse
child
lamp
pillow
yolk
potato
pickle
nurse
ham
ninja
screw
board
pin
lettuce
console
climb
goose
bill
tortoise
sink
ski
glitter
miner
parrot
clap
spit
wiggle
peacock
roll
ballet
ceiling
celebrate
blind
yacht
addition
flock
powder
paddle
harpoon
kraken
baboon
antenna
classroom
bronze
writer
Obelix
touch
sensei
rest
puma
dent
shake
goblin
laundry
cloak
detonate
Neptune
cotton
generator
canary
horsewhip
racecar
Croatia
tip
cardboard
commander
seasick
anthill
vinegar
hippie
dentist
animation
Slinky
wallpaper
pendulum
vertical
chestplate
anime
beanstalk
survivor
florist
faucet
spore
risk
wonderland
wrestling
hazelnut
cushion
W-LAN
mayor
community
raisin
udder
oyster
sew
hazard
curry
pastry
mime
victim
mechanic
hibernate
bouncer
Iron Giant
floodlight
pear
sad
paw
space
bullet
skribbl.io
shirt
cow
worm
king
tea
truck
pants
hashtag
DNA
bird
Monster
beer
curtain
tire
nachos
bear
cricket
teapot
nerd
deaf
fruit
meteorite
rice
sniper
sale
gnome
shock
shape
alligator
meal
nickel
party
hurt
Segway
Mr. Bean
banker
cartoon
double
hammock
juggle
pope
leak
room
throne
hoof
radar
wound
luck
swag
panther
flush
Venus
disease
fortune
porch
machine
pilot
copper
mantis
keg
biology
wax
gloss
leech
sculpture
pelican
trapdoor
plague
quilt
yardstick
lounge
teaspoon
broadcast
uncle
comedian
mannequin
peasant
streamer
oar
drama
cornfield
carnivore
wingnut
vent
cabinet
vacation
applause
vision
radish
picnic
Skrillex
jester
preach
armadillo
hyena
librarian
interview
sauna
surgeon
dishrag
manatee
symphony
queue
industry
Atlantis
excavator
canister
model
flight attendant
ghost
pig
key
banana
tomato
axe
line
present
duck
alien
peas
gem
web
grapes
corn
can
fairy
camel
paper
beak
corner
penny
dig
link
donkey
fox
rug
drip
hunter
horn
purse
gumball
pony
musket
flea
kettle
rooster
balcony
seesaw
stork
dinner
greed
bait
duel
trap
heist
origami
skunk
coaster
leather
socket
fireside
cannon
ram
filter
alpaca
Zelda
condiment
server
antelope
emu
chestnut
dalmatian
swarm
sloth
reality
Darwin
torpedo
toucan
pedal
tabletop
frosting
bellow
vortex
bayonet
margarine
orchid
beet
journey
slam
marmalade
employer
stylus
spoiler
repeat
tiramisu
cuckoo
collapse
eskimo
assault
orangutan
wrapping
albatross
mothball
evaporate
turnip
puffin
reeds
receptionist
impact
dispenser
nutshell
procrastination
architect
programmer
bricklayer
boat
bell
ring
fries
money
chair
door
bee
tail
ball
mouse
rat
window
peace
nut
blush
page
toad
hug
ace
tractor
peach
whisk
hen
day
shy
lawyer
rewind
tripod
trailer
hermit
welder
festival
punk
handle
protest
lens
attic
foil
promotion
work
limousine
patriot
badger
studio
athlete
quokka
trend
pinwheel
gravel
fabric
lemur
provoke
rune
display
nail file
embers
asymmetry
actor
carpenter
aristocrat
Zuma
chinchilla
archaeologist
apple
hat
sun
box
cat
cup
train
bunny
sound
run
barrel
barber
grill
read
family
moose
boil
printer
poster
sledge
nutmeg
heading
cruise
pillar
retail
monk
spool
catalog
scuba
anteater
pensioner
coyote
vise
bobsled
purity
tailor
meerkat
weasel
invention
lynx
kendama
zeppelin
patient
gladiator
slump
Capricorn
baklava
prune
stress
crucible
hitchhiker
election
caviar
marmot
hair roller
pistol
cone
ant
lock
hanger
cap
Mr. Meeseeks
comedy
coat
tourist
tickle
facade
shrew
diva
patio
apricot
spelunker
parakeet
barbarian
tumor
figurine
desperate
landlord
bus
mug
dog
shark
abyss
betray HUH SO HARD
submitted by Temporary_Scratch_14 to skribbl [link] [comments]


2020.10.18 01:55 theliester Don't know how to feel about this letter.

Backstory: me and GF met in the begining of covid(yep covid couple). We skyped a few time and met. Fast forward about 5 months and we decide we want to move in together. Today we finished moving her out. We have actually been living together continually for about 3 months but decided to completely move you out and clear out her apartment/cancel her lease today.
My confusion: when I was deconstructing her furniture I start asking her(she's in the other room) what she want to keep so I start listing off the items in a desk drawer. There's a simple card with her name on it so I begin to say do you want to keep this letter from....the ex), I obviously stop myself from reading it and don't tell here I read it. I simply say, want to keep these, broadly gesturing to the items in the desk drawer as she comes in. I was just trying to be helpful with clearing things out. I would never dig through her stuff otherwise.
About 30 mins later: As I'm deconstructing her kitchen bar cart I move her sweater(were getting hot cause of moving and bringing stuff down to the trash area. The letter from her ex is hidden under the sweater.
Fast forward to right now. I still have an hour to meet her at our friends house for a Saturday night birthday party(she had a girl's dinner before the party and I'm meeting here afterward. So I decide to go through all the stuff that we brought to, now our apartment, and the letter is tucked in between some books.
The relationship: it's stupidly good. We agree on 99% of things about decoration and we are both fairly emotionally stable and even if we do have a disagreement we don't have malice. He ex was horrible to her and cold. He had a point system and would tell her if she didn't cook well she just lost points in the relationship.
Why would she want to keep the card?
I'm not upset but I'm just confused for why and my mind is spiraling.
submitted by theliester to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.10.18 01:47 itsunclejerry I thought I was no longer a nice guy once I got married. It turned out I was wrong.

I'm a nice guy and this is my story.
A little background: I'm 41, moved to the US 12 years ago, married and still trying to figure it out.
It all started with when I was 16. I met with Alice 14, a junior at my school. That's when I was struck with a love at the first sight. I demonstrated a nice guy trait from the get go. Always asking for what she wants/needs, instead of telling her what I want. I was always available for her and neglected my own needs. I became her emo bucket, with the hope that I can be her BF. I lived in my own fantasy world that she's destined to be my wife. While in reality I was no more than a friend. This went on until one day she broke the news. She's starting a relationship with a classmate.
I was hurt. I can't believe after everything I did for her. I didn't get what I thought I deserve. I feel betrayed. Unfortunately, I didn't learn my lesson.
A year later, after I can let my obsession of Alice go, I got to know Clara. I found that she's a lot more assertive. I grew suspicious, why would I got her attention without putting much effort? I had a mixed feeling. On one hand, I'm happy that I was dating. I can brag about her with the boys in my circle. On the other hand, I didn't feel I deserve the happiness. It didn't last long. One day she told me she's seeing another guy and everything is over.
I still didn't learn my lesson. I thought if I keep trying harder, I will get the rewards.
Next come Lily. I liked her outgoing personality. On top that, she's smoking hot. Alice and Clara were cute. Lily was on a different level. That made her popular among other boys at school. She's on everybody's cross hairs. I, being a nice guy, got close to her easily. We were in the same school club, that makes it easier for me to approach her. I listened to her story and upbringing. I listened to her breaking up with her BF. Again, I let myself turning into her emo bucket. And again, I had to be disappointed when I asked her to be my GF, she rejected me.
It hurts, but I was still not learning my lesson.
Somehow, Alice came back into my life. I thought it was meant to be. We were getting close again. The stars were aligning. I did what I know best, being the nicest guy for her. This time I had a game plan. I would be nice to her, then I will ask her to be my GF. This also turned into another rejection.
It felt awful. The most perfect girl rejected me. It was awfully embarrassing too. I didn't learn anything other than girls are into jerks. I'm not a jerk.
I was lucky to get accepted at a college out of my hometown. I can leave all the bad memories behind. I started a new life with a new sheet of paper.
I made new friends. I got close with girls. This time I tried to stay away from any romantic relationship. I dismissed any opportunity to even dating. I felt like a loser for not having a GF, but the fear of rejection was stronger. I wasn't going to let that happened again.
Time flies until I became a senior. I was told there was a girl from my hometown who were a freshman at my college. So, I looked up for her. I met with Anne and introduced myself. Things kicked off quite easily because we shared a similar background. I learned that his BF went to another college in the same town as our college. He wanted to stay close to her. I couldn't lie to myself, I was attracted to Anne. But I didn't really put too much thought on it. I went out with Anne only because she was fun to go with. I showed her around. I took her to places that I love to go to. I told her about the business I started during sophomore year that had to close the door because one night it was burglarized and nothing left. I didn't realize that I was being attractive. I thought I was just having fun.
One day she spilled her feeling. She wanted to break up with her BF. And she did. The BF thought I was stealing her. He came to my college and found I was walking with her. It's inevitable. I can't run. I had the feeling that I will get a punch in the face. The guy was taller and bigger than my skinny self. All I know was I have to stand my ground. After exchanging some slurs and expletive words, he was about to throw a punch before a security guard passed by. I was saved. He left. I didn't realize this made Anne felt security with me.
Since then, I noticed Anne treated me differently. I felt her more affectionate at every steps. When I took her out with my buddies who she knew well. I felt her trying to sit closer to me. I was a little embarrassed. It was the sign.
Anne was my first serious GF. It was my first romantic and sexual relationship ever. Although, I'm still a nice guy. I obeyed our culture that forbids pre-marital sex. That translates to me as no sexual intercourse. I would suck her nipples and let her give me a hand job with pants on. I even stopped her when she wanted to feel me inside her. Life was perfect. This is the future mom of my kids.
Then I took a job at a different town after college. We were on LDR and things started to went south. The world fell apart when we break up. I couldn't take it well. It didn't make sense to me at all. I treated her well and this is what I get in return. I was really depressed that my mom had to take me to a psychiatrist. I got to take a little white pill to get me to sleep.
The episode with Anne had shifted my life a bit. But I still didn't fully learn my lesson.
The internet brought me some red pill materials. I got to know the game, mystery, and the like. I diligently read Doc Love columns on askmen.com. I tried to apply some of the tricks to see if it works. Neg, IOI, DHV, and so on.
Fate brought Lily back to my world. I met her by chance. She was a whale this time. But the trace of her hotness remained. I thought with a little care she would turned a 10 easily. I applied my newly found PUA technique and ended up spending the night in her bedroom. I kissed her passionately and went after her breast. It was a perfect round, big and soft. I licked them carefully to show her I'm a gentleman. I told her I was a virgin that I hadn't had any intercourse. Before I knew, she pulled my pants down, gave me a head, followed with WOT, back to a head, then she swallowed my cum. I felt satisfied. Not from the sex but from the ego. After all these years, she finally fell for me. I got my revenge. The sex was great but the revenge felt more fulfilling. This is how it supposed to be. It matched with my script.
Lily's BF found out about us. They broke up. I was even more satisfied.
My key takeaway was that PUA works. I continued studying and applying PUA techniques with adjustment to fit with my culture. Pre-marital sex is forbidden. So, there can't be any mention about sex publicly. It's weird.
My confidence level with girls were high when I met Poppy. I got to know her from a volunteering sports event. I did the PUA routine to get her attention. I made an advance on one night and it turned into a steamy night. A doggie under the moonlight. With Poppy, I limit my relationship to sexual only. I didn't bother to ask her to be my GF. I always get the sex with Poppy almost everyday. She didn't seem to be happy about our status, but she kept coming and giving me the sex. She surprised me a lot of time with different style and technique. She's highly experienced. I enjoyed her company a lot.
While I was seeing Poppy, I was messing around with a couple other girls. Eve was my student who made an advance on me. Cleo was an accountant that I know from a friend. These were all my attempt to validate my confidence. Without realizing it, I was seeking for approval.
I never learned.
The game with Poppy, Eve and Cleo had to come to an end. I got a scholarship to attend graduate school in the US. That's my dream come true and my perfect excuse too. I said LDR won't work three times to three different girls. I shaked Eve and Cleo off, but I stayed in touch with Poppy. After all, I didn't want to feel lonely and she gave me the best sex.
On the surface, it seems like I was pursuing my dream. In reality, I was running away. I was afraid starting an LTR with Poppy because her upbringing was not something that my family would accept.
I was an obedient nice guy.
Graduate student life in the US was tough. I had to survive with my little savings and the money I got from on campus work. It was getting better when I landed a full time job after I graduated. I felt confident now that I had a steady income. I started to meet with girls. The remnants of PUA skills helped me connect with any 7,8,9 girls. I can see if a girl accepted or rejected my advance without getting myself embarrassed. It was just my cultural awareness held me back because I got to marry someone from my culture.
Little did I know that I was living under my parents approval.
I was introduced with my wife online. I texted her once I got her number. It was then followed with exchanging pictures and skype calling. Things are flowing. I can connect with her because she went to a college in the same town as my college. I did check her upbringing. It was something that my family would approve. So, I shot her an ask that I want an LTR. I was looking for a marriage. I was 31, she was 24.
We were married 4 years later because her family wouldn't approve me. During that 4 years, we had our ups and downs. I got to know her better. I had several fights with her about small and big things. One of the big fight was because I was seeing another girl. We broke up once before we came back together.
We got married when the approval finally came from her parents. It was a grand ceremony with tons of guests that I didn't even had the chance to appreciate. I couldn't enjoy my own wedding. But that's normal in our culture.
I took my wife to the US right after the wedding. On the first day we crossed the border, I was surprised seeing her pouty face. She wasn't happy. We haven't even got to our apartment yet. I felt a little tingling inside. But I brushed it off. I rationalized that she must be really tired.
That was six years ago.
Today, I'm still living with my wife and our lovely 3 yo daughter. I'm out of job. I have no close friends. Despite I have been a nice guy, it didn't seem to please her. She's not happy. I didn't get the space I needed. I didn't get the sex I wanted.
Last week I read NMMNG. Everything clicked.
TL;DR I was a nice guy and still a nice guy. I need help.
submitted by itsunclejerry to NMMNG [link] [comments]


2020.10.13 21:30 MikeJesus My father built robots in the 80s

‘I have a surprise for you Jimbo!’ My father, the inventor in plaid, stood in the middle of the living room with a blocky object hidden beneath a bed-sheet. It was the spring of 1981, my mother and me had just come back from the park.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘Guess!’ His hands tightened over the cloth. Whatever the surprise was, he was excited to reveal it.
A gentle whirr and a beep came from beneath the bed-sheet. A skeptical smile spread across my mother’s face. ‘Brian, you didn’t build a-‘
‘Ah! Don’t spoil it!’ he cut her off, ‘Let him guess! Come on Jimbo, what do you think the surprise is?’
The mysterious object let out a series of beeps. Weight shifted beneath the bed-sheet. I didn’t have the faintest idea of what it could be, but I also knew my father well enough to know he wouldn’t move on unless I made a guess. ‘A washing machine?’ I guessed.
They both laughed. Over the following years my guess would be carved into family history through funny dinner party anecdotes.
‘It’s not a washing machine Jimbo,’ my father finally said, ‘it’s something much better than a washing machine.’
‘You didn’t actually build it, did you?’ My mother asked, in amused disbelief.
‘Hun, if you didn’t want a husband who builds things you shouldn’t have married an inventor,’ he said with pride in his voice and then turned to me. ‘Jimbo, let me introduce you to your new friend – Zorbo!’
He ripped off the cloth covering the bulky thing in our living room.
A pair of flash light eyes stared back at me from a rectangular metal skull. Knobs and dials stuck out of the robot’s stainless steel chest like medals from some intergalactic war. Its arms hung on tubing that seemed to have come straight from a vacuum cleaner, but its hands were made up of sleek shapes that suggested top-secret military technology.
‘HELLO FRIEND, I AM ZORBO,’ the robot said, its voice strained through lifeless circuitry, ‘WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY CATCH WITH ME?’
I was an only child, and by extension, a lonely child. For years I had begged my parents for a younger brother or sister, but the medication that my mother was taking made the idea of another pregnancy far too dangerous. That winter I shifted my pleas for company over to a puppy, and my parents obliged, but within three hours of finding my new friend beneath the Christmas tree I ended up in the emergency room. Turns out that I am deathly allergic to dogs.
With his son unable to find companionship, my father attempted to help the only way he knew how – by inventing me a friend.
The heap of sentient metal terrified me, there was something about the sluggish way that Zorbo’s eyes scanned the room that made me feel quintessentially unsafe, but I knew that if I rejected my father’s gift I would break the man’s heart. After the initial fear of the robot passed, our little family went outside and played catch with Zorbo.
Soon enough word about Zorbo got around the neighborhood. You could have made a 80s sitcom about us, we were the family living in suburbia with a zany robot. Except Zorbo wasn’t very zany.
At first he was the equivalent of a particularly friendly Roomba who could throw around a baseball, but as time went on, and as my mother got sicker, Zorbo’s skillset expanded. Every night, as I lay awake, terrified of the lifeless machine that lived with us, I could see the lights of my father’s workshop burning in the darkness of our backyard. Within months Zorbo could cook and clean and mow the lawn. Every chore that the robot was able to do gave my mother more time to rest and gave my father and me more time to spend with her. But that time was limited.
As she lay on that hospital bed, getting out the few final words that her disease riddled body could muster, Zorbo was there. As me and my father wept and assured my mother that she lived a truly beautiful life, the robot stood in the corner of the room, his flashlight eyes scanning his surroundings. He listened to her last words. He internalized them deep into his circuitry.
For a year the house was a place of inescapable sadness. Every room, every dish, every tiny bit of existence reminded us of the woman who was whisked away by a clump of rouge cells. Even though we were in a state of deep mourning, the house was immaculate and our stomachs were full. As we tried to make sense of the new world we were living in, Zorbo the robot was there to take care of us.
The memory of my mother never faded, decades later a day seldom goes by when I don’t think of her, but as time passed, the daily soul shattering sadness turned into quiet melancholy. Life carried on, my father went back to work for the military, I started grade school, people moved in and out of the neighborhood and eventually the life we once lived as a family became a memory. The only thing that remained constant was Zorbo. He was always there, making sure we were comfortable, serving us and providing an emotional crutch when needed.
That all changed in the summer of 1989 — the summer of the lawnmower.
Cindy, the daughter of our new neighbor across the street, was sitting with me at the living room table outlining a five-paragraph essay on the effects of the 1968 invasion of Czechoslovakia. I was trying to do the same, but my hormone addled mind refused to think about Soviet tanks or the crushing of democracy. All I could think about was Cindy. It was the last week of school and I was hopelessly in love.
‘Hey, how do you spell Brezhnev? All of these Soviet names give me a headache,’ she asked, leaning over to my near empty paper. I tried to spell out the name, but the angelic smell of her conditioner made it difficult to concentrate.
‘Zorbo,’ I finally said, giving up on impressing Cindy with my spelling skills, ‘How do you spell Brezhnev?’
‘THANK YOU FOR ASKING, FRIEND.’ The robot’s flashlight eyes spun around in a half circle before he gave his reply. ‘LEONID BREZHNEV, LEADER OF THE SOVIET UNION BETWEEN 1964 AND 1982. L-E-O-N-I-D. B-R-E-Z-H-N-E-V.’
‘Thank you Zorbo!’ Cindy said.
‘YOU ARE WELCOME, FRIEND,’ Zorbo replied. ‘WOULD YOU LIKE MORE SPELLING HELP?’
‘No thank you Zorbo,’ I mumbled. Cindy thought the robot was really neat, and even though my metal house guest still made me uncomfortable I was starting to embrace the benefits of having a sentient machine full of knowledge whirring around the house.
‘Don’t talk too much about the Soviets with Zorbo kids, things might get personal,’ my father said, emerging from the kitchen with a sandwich so precisely cut that it could have only come from a machine. ‘He’s part Russian. I mean most of his circuitry is Japanese, but our metal friend here might still get a bit offended if you don’t tow the Kremlin political line.’
Cindy’s laugh was like a symphony of angels enjoying a wholesome joke. ‘I’ll be sure to keep the politburo in mind when talking to Zorbo, Mr. Carpek,’ she said.
‘Poltiburo, eh?’ my father was impressed, ‘Smart one right here Jimbo. Hold onto her, she can teach you a thing or two.’
I wanted to hold on to her, oh God how I wanted to hold on to her, I wanted to surrender myself to the teen Goddess and scream my undying love for Cindy through my crackling voice chords – but instead I just blushed. My father stifled a grin and changed the topic.
‘By the way, Cindy, send your pops my regards about the new lawn mower. Beauty of a machine he’s got there. If we didn’t have Zorbo here cutting our grass I’d be hounding him for the name of the salesman.’ My father gave Zorbo a friendly pat on his tubular arm and then turned to me, ‘Seen the neighbor’s lawnmower yet Jimbo?’
I shook my head.
‘She’s a beaut!’ He kissed the tips of his fingers like the Italian chefs on TV.
‘I’ll pass on the compliments, Mr. Carpek,’ Cindy said, smiling a smile that could turn Tiananmen Square into Woodstock, ‘I’ll actually do so now, essay is just about done. Thanks for the spelling help Zorbo!’
‘YOU ARE WELCOME, FRIEND.’
I left my unfinished essay behind and followed Cindy to the edge of my front lawn. I had hoped that at some point during the thirty-second walk a burst of bravery would manifest in my chest and I would tell her how I felt. But it didn’t. It never did. I just stood behind our white picket fence watching my one true love skip across the street.
‘Hey Jim!’ Cindy’s dad yelled as he mowed his lawn, ‘Say Hi to your old man for me, will ya?’
‘Sure thing Mr. Clarke!’ I yelled back, ‘Also, my dad sends his compliments about your lawn mower!’
Mr. Clarke’s old machine was a rustling gas-guzzling beast. Whenever his lawn was getting a trim the entire neighborhood would be alerted to the grounds keeping with a jagged metallic screech, but that was no longer the case. The new lawn mower was a tool of sleek metallic shapes and blinking lights that let out nothing but a soft hum as it cut through the grass.
‘Thanks Jim! She’s a beaut, ain’t she?’ Cindy’s dad said before returning to the mowing. I never inherited the fascination with machines that my father had, but watching that machine work away at the greenery I couldn’t help but recognize a hint of hypnotizing aesthetics. Looking at the calculated metallic body of the machine made me feel like I was living in the 21st century, the future had arrived in suburbia.
‘HELLO FRIEND,’ an inhuman voice next to me said, ‘WHAT IS THAT?’
‘That’s a uh, lawnmower,’ I replied, uncomfortable at the idea of how quietly Zorbo could move when he wanted to.
‘LAWN MOWER,’ Zorbo said with an unusual softness in his jagged speech, ‘BEAUTIFUL LAWN MOWER.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘Beautiful lawn mower.’
My father seldom cooked, but when he did he would deliver a symphony of spices that would make you eat yourself into a food coma. Even Zorbo, with all of his circuitry and mechanical precision, couldn’t replicate the mouth-watering flavor of my father’s Bolognese.
Yet as delicious as dinner was that night, I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy the spaghetti. Instead of letting my mind drift away on the gentle notes of paprika I was tied down to reality by my frustrated teenage heart.
‘So,’ he said, ‘Is Cindy seeing someone?’
‘No,’ I replied, ‘Don’t think so at least.’
He swallowed another forkful of pasta, and then, with his mouth still full, as if it was a matter of no importance, he asked the question that had been festering in the back of my head for the past three months. ‘You gonna ask her out?’
The butterflies in my stomach informed me that I wouldn’t be eating any more that night. ‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘I’m scared she’ll say no.’
‘It doesn’t matter Jimbo, you’re fourteen,’ my father told me, ‘If she says No you won’t remember it in a couple of years. What you will remember forever is not asking.’
I was a teen; my perception of time barely reached past the end of summer break, yet for a split second I imagined myself at forty, my hairline thinning like my dad’s, eating spaghetti with a child of my own.
‘But I’m nervous, what if she says no?’ I finally asked.
‘You’ll survive,’ he said, ‘I was nervous when I first asked out your mom, and it worked out fine.’
He smiled as he said it, but as soon as he mentioned her, his eyes dimmed. It had been years since she had passed, but certain memories stay as sharp as the day that they were forged. We were sitting in the living room, eating spicy spaghetti, but really we were both back in that hospital room, sitting by the frail body of the woman who was once made my father nervous.
‘Where’s Zorbo?’ He brought the conversation back to reality. ‘Zorbo? Where are you?’
At dinnertime Zorbo would usually be in the kitchen, quietly whirring to himself, waiting for dishes to wash up. But that night the robot wasn’t anywhere to be found. We searched all across the house but our electric servant was gone. It wasn’t until a chance glance out of the window that I saw him.
The moon softly reflected off his metallic body. His flashlight eyes hovered beams of red into the night. Zorbo was staring at Cindy’s house.
‘BEAUTIFUL LAWN MOWER,’ his voice was different, it was as if a roughness had been chipped away, as if somewhere within his wiry viscera a hint of emotion existed. ‘BEAUTIFUL LAWN MOWER!’ There was a trace of longing in his voice.
‘Huh,’ my father said, ‘Looks like someone’s blown a fuse. Come here Zorbo, we’ll take you to the garage and figure out what’s up.’ But the robot refused to budge. It wasn’t until my father pulled his tube arms towards the workshop that Zorbo relented and started to move. But even as Zorbo’s blinking body moved away from the street his head remained turned. Those flashlights through which he took in the outside world were aimed straight at Cindy’s house.
‘LOVE IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS,’ Zorbo said. My father froze. That gentle note of humanity in Zorbo’s voice sent a bolt of discomfort through my spine. We recognized those words.
‘BEAUTIFUL LAWN MOWER’ Zorbo said again, his artificiality returning.
My father’s face slowly regained its smile. ‘Beautiful lawnmower indeed buddy, let’s get your circuitry checked out.’
There was enough pain medication in her to tare away most of her personality but somewhere in that bony woman there was a semblance of my mother. We sat with her for the last two days of her life, trying to say all the things we would regret not saying and assuring her of what a beautiful life she had lived. Whenever she would sleep I would go make my acquaintance with the soda machine and stroll around the hospital looking for people who had it worse than me. My father talked extensively to whoever would listen about the machines his wife was hooked up to.
Zorbo stood still in the back of the room. He never moved an inch until the hour when she died. It was as if he could tell that the life was seeping out of her, as if the machines that were keeping her alive had told him that she was moving on. As we listened to my mother’s final attempts at speaking Zorbo slid behind us. We stood vigil as a family.
“Love is the only thing that matters,” she said. Zorbo softly whirred next to us as she died.
That night I sat with the memories and tried to make sense of everything. I saw my mom again, I felt that heat in my chest when I thought about Cindy, I could imagine myself as a regretful balding forty-year-old. Love is all that matters. Outside, my father tinkered away in the garage, trying to wipe Zorbo’s circuits of the notion of love, but in my bedroom a fire of teenage passion was burning. I fell asleep trying to compose a monologue that would make Cindy swoon.
‘Hey, were we meant to write a summary of the chapter or just until page 48?’ she asked. I had no idea what she was talking about, all I knew was that we were sitting in our living room and I was about to tell her.
‘I really like you,’ I blurted out. ‘Like, as a person, Cindy, I think you’re pretty cool. But also, I like you as, like, a romantic partner? Like, I think you’re cute and I think about you all the time. I like you. I’m sorry.’
It came out of me like a rushing waterfall, but my face felt like it was the surface of the sun. Her confused look turned up the heat.
‘Uhhh…’ Her eyes kept on fluttering, for a split second she looked a bit like Zorbo if you ever asked him what time it was. ‘I uhhh… I’m sorry too? Because… ummm… I like you as a friend. But… Yeah… No.’
I stared down at my textbook. Leonid Brezhnev was glaring at me from the page.
‘I should go,’ she whispered.
‘I’ll walk you out,’ I said, immediately biting into my cheek.
The walk to the edge of my yard couldn’t have taken longer than thirty seconds, but as we quietly made our way out of the house I aged a decade. My mind was wholly consumed by the sting of rejection, the tragedy of it, the unfairness of it. I was a little boy getting an allergic reaction to a Christmas puppy again, but this time instead of a rash on my skin there was a rash on my heart.
I walked past Zorbo without looking at him. From the whirring of his hand blades I presumed that he was just mowing the lawn.
She didn’t say anything. Cindy just walked across the street and past her front door without a single glance back.
Sure, she apologized a week later, and a couple months down the line I was awe struck with someone else, but in that moment, in that searing moment my world was on fire.
‘BEAUTIFUL LAWNMOWER’ Zorbo said.
Soil clung to his metallic body. The blades that extended from his hands tore into the ground, shooting bits of earth sprawling across the sidewalk. He stared across the street with the same longing I had in my soul.
‘LOVE IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, as I shuffled off to my room to mope.
My father found Zorbo shortly before the sun set. He walked out calling to the robot about the dirty dishes that had gathered in the sink, but as soon as my father saw his creation digging into the ground his tone changed. He spoke to him in calm, soothing words. The robot had been working like precise clockwork since the day that he was constructed; my father was worried to see his creation descend into glitch-filled madness.
I knew I should have told him as soon as I found the malfunctioning robot, but there were more pressing things on my mind. As my father rolled Zorbo into his workshop my love for Cindy consumed me. The life we could have had if I had just waited, if I had phrased my confession of love differently; snapshots of an alternate reality burned in my mind like an angry film reel.
The visions in my head grew sharper. I didn’t just get rejected by some teenage girl, I got rejected by my future wife. Images of me proposing, of us having our first child, of me sitting by her hospital bed as she died of old age – they squirmed through my mind accompanied by a booming replay of the couple dozen words with which I wiped them from the future. I was one hundred percent sure I had reached my first life-long regret. I writhed with mental discomfort until I couldn’t be alone. The lights were on in my father’s workshop.
‘Dad?’ I asked, standing in the door.
‘Hey Jimbo, sorry, going to skip dinner tonight, think there should still be some Bolognese in the fridge though,’ he said, not looking away from his work. My father’s workshop was always a mess of disparate electronics and scattered tools, but that night all other projects were cleared away to make room for Zorbo. Our robotic family member lay on a wooden table, his sleek metal skin removed, revealing a chaotic mess of wires and computer chips.
‘Was Zorbo acting any different when you came back home from school?’ he asked while digging out a stack of microchips from behind the robot’s eyes with a screwdriver.
‘Yeah, he, uh, was digging a hole in the front yard.’
‘Alright well,’ my father buried the frustration in his voice with a sigh, ‘Next time you see him doing something weird please tell me, alright Jim? Zorbo’s inner workings are very fragile, if something is wrong it needs to be fixed. I don’t want to lose him to some loose wiring.’
‘Sorry dad,’ I said.
He mumbled something and went back to tinkering with the robot’s skull. I was going to leave him to his work, but the sadness in my chest was far too potent for me to be alone. I knew I needed to talk to someone.
‘So I asked Cindy out…’ As soon as the words left my mouth his hands stopped moving.
I didn’t have to say anything. As soon as he turned around he could tell. Before I knew it I was wrapped up in a bear hug with my eyes growing wet.
‘It’s going to be okay Jimbo, there will be plenty others. Proud of you.’
‘Proud of me?’
‘Of course, you put yourself out there and that’s the most important-‘
‘LOVE IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS’
Wires were hanging off of his raw body, his flashlight eyes spun around the room searching for an exit. Zorbo was getting off of the table and moving towards the door. ‘BEAUTIFUL LAWNMOWER,’ he gargled through a partially dismantled voice box.
‘Zorbo?’ My father let go of me and walked up to the staggering mess of electronics, ‘Where are you going Zorbo?’
‘LOVE IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS,’ Zorbo said, shuffling his way past my father, ‘BEAUTIFUL LAWNMOWER.’
‘Now, now, Zorbo,’ my father said, grabbing Zorbo’s arm slightly above the mud-caked blades, ‘I think you need to lie down for a bit. There’s something wrong with you and-‘
‘BEAUTIFUL LAWNMOWER!’ Zorbo boomed, as he ripped free of my father’s grip. ‘LOVE IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS!’ He continued walking out of the garage, each step filled with crackling defiance.
‘Zorbo! You stop right this instant!’ my father yelled in a tone that was only familiar to me from early childhood, ‘If you keep behaving like this I will shut you off.’
The robot’s body froze mid-step. He didn’t turn around, but his head did. ‘YOU WANT TO STOP ZORBO FROM LOVE?’
My father gently pushed me aside, placing me away from the disobedient robot. ‘Zorbo,’ he said, his voice growing cold, ‘Come back here and lie down on the table.’
The beams of light focused in on my father. The wiring of Zorbo’s body twisted and turned until they were face to face. The blades on his hands started to spin. ‘YOU WANT TO STOP ZORBO FROM LOVE,’ his voice lowered in volume, it was almost drowned out by the sharp whirring of the mud covered knives, ‘GOODBYE, FRIEND.’
Zorbo’s tubular arm came down like a karate chop on my father’s shoulder. Hot blood splashed all over my face. Pained screams filled my ears. The blades cut through my father’s skin like butter. I could hear the crackling of bones breaking.
Through my father’s throat-tearing agony I could hear a single word come through. “Run!” He wanted his only child to get away from the manic robot that was sawing at his arm. He wanted me to survive. But I couldn’t move an inch. I just stood there, pressed up against the tool cabinet, watching my father be murdered by a robot.
I could see myself running across the street to Cindy’s house. I could see myself trying to explain to a police officer that an unhinged robot killed my dad. I could see myself standing at my father’s funeral, watching the dirt over his casket solidify my status as an orphan.
But I would never actually see my father’s funeral.
Instead I felt the cold steel of a monkey wrench in my hand. I summoned a battle cry from the depth of my lungs. If I let my father die at the hands of a robot I would regret it for the rest of my life.
The adrenalin coursing through my veins gave reality a jagged edge. Everything moved with neck-breaking speed but each time that the blunt object made contact with Zorbo’s wiry brain time dissolved into a short-lived eternity. Zorbo’s intricately woven mind was reduced into a mess of cables. Soon enough my wrench made contact with the floor of the garage. Zorbo was dead.
Everything after that is a blur.
I remember stumbling out into the street covered in blood, barely able to muster up more strength to yell for help. I remember Mr. Clarke holding down a torn shirt over the geyser of blood that was streaming out of my father’s shoulder. I remember sitting in the back of an ambulance, watching my father linger on the edge of life.
For two days I survived on a diet of pop and chocolate from a familiar vending machine. He lost a lot of blood. Even at fourteen I could sense that the doctors were preparing me for the worst. But, miraculously, on the third day, I was allowed to see my dad.
He was weak, desperately weak, but he was alive. All it cost him was his arm. He spent the entire summer in a state of exhausted shock from his creation turning on him, but by the time the fall leaves filled our yard he was outside with a rake, cracking jokes. By Christmas he had a brand new metallic arm courtesy of his workbench. By New Years he was washing dishes. Mr. Clarke was more than happy to give him the number of the lawn mower salesman.
Life carried on. I graduated high-school, moved out of state for university and then continued moving every couple of years depending on where my job took me. I had my fair share of rejection and break-ups but no heartache ever reached the mythical proportions of the rejection of ’89. With all said and done though, my father was right, knowing that I asked and got shot down was considerably easier to live with than having to wonder what could have been.
I grew into an adult and my father shrunk into an old man. He continued to do work for the army well into old age but as time went on he was phased out by younger minds that were more in touch with modern tech. In retirement my father continued to tinker with electronics and built himself contraptions to help him with the tasks that old age made difficult, but eventually, as tremors set into his human hand and age chipped away at his human brain he stopped coming to his workshop.
I found myself thinking about his funeral again, but this time it wasn’t just a panicked snapshot forced into my head by a frenzied robot servant, this time I knew that somewhere down the line I would be standing in a church trying to summarize what the man meant to me in a speech to his old coworkers and family who I hadn’t seen for years.
But I never did. I never saw my father’s funeral.
The fact that I belong to a whole generation of people who were robbed of a funeral makes the pain sting less. There were plenty of other children of the 80s who lost their parents during the pandemic of ’20 who didn’t have weekly Skype calls with their fathers, who had unresolved issues, who had fallen out of touch. But knowing that I’m not the only one who lost a parent during the corona outbreak only lessens the pain slightly. The thought of him dying alone, feverish, connected to a respirator he could have built in his workshop, still cuts into my heart with fiery force.
By the time I was able to travel back to my hometown the house had been empty for months. I walked through the rooms and wept as the memories washed over me. Even though I was filled with sorrow, there was a catharsis to it all. The two people who had brought me into the world were gone, but they gave me the tools to survive in it, they shaped the person who mourned them. Each room was filled with evidence that I was loved, and I have it on good authority that love is important.
But my father’s workshop was different.
When I turned on the lights I wasn’t reminded of the afternoons I spent keeping my father company while he worked on his projects, or of all the toys that my father built me when I was a kid. No, there were no memories at all.
All I could focus on was the object hidden beneath a bed-sheet in the center of the room.
A part of me wanted to turn around and leave whatever my father’s final project was a mystery, but I knew myself well enough to know that the question of what was hidden beneath the bed-sheet would steal sleep away from me forever. I gripped my hand around the cloth and pulled.
It was the same lawn mower that Mr. Clarke had back in the 80s. Its over-the-top impression of the future seemed nearly comical by modern standards, but there was something attached to its sleek metallic frame that chilled me to my middle-aged core. Two red flashlights focused on me.
‘LOVE IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING,’ Zorbo’s voice box whispered out of the core of the machine, ‘BEAUTIFUL LAWNMOWER!’
(Zorbo's insatiable hunger)
submitted by MikeJesus to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.10.11 07:18 mintey24 I broke up with my boyfriend for not cutting contact with a girl and now im being told that I was in the wrong. Insight please?

Couldnt share to AITA SO i figured I would post here.
I (26f) have been dating my now ex (28m) for 6 years. You can look at my previous posts to see that he made a post from is POV awhile ago about our relationship...and yes...its bad.....real bad but I'm putting it out their because this is my account. People seem to think I'm a troll if I dont tell them otherwise.
Now onto my story
My ex was friends with a woman he met online years before we started dating. Lets call her Brit. Literally days, after we became exclusive, I caught them sexting each other through skype. I was planning on breaking up with him then and there but due to the circumstances of the situation he would have been homless for a few weeks so I let it go and I figured it wasnt a big deal. I really liked him otherwise and I wanted to see how it would work out (I know, I was stupid.).
Fast forward through 6 long agonizing years of him getting caught text cheating with Brit and a few other women every 3-6 months, taking me for granted and finally the straw that broke the camel's back sleeping witth his ex wife. I finally got a backbone and broke up with him and went back to my home state to be with my family. Upon arrival. I felt unwelcomed due to my extended family's horrible dynamic and settled into a deeper state of depression. I was verbally abused and also had to put up with watching my parents toxic marriage 24/7. My father cheated on my mother my whole life and and they are still together. Because of this I felt strong for leaving my situation because I didnt want to be in the same shoes as her, no matter how long I did stay originally.
Being under the same roof ad my parents brought me back to the toxic place that I had felt growing up in my childhood and in my teens. It was hard. On top of that my dad had refurbished the house to allow my grandparents to come stay and he walled off a whole area to where I didnt even have windows in my bedroom. It was always gloomy dark and secluded and it was slowly driving me mad. They dont like indoor pets either so my poor cat was confined to my room and she was stressed and it made my room stink badly. Due to the situation at home and my dad progessively getting back to his old ways with abusing me I started talking to my ex again.
Due to the uprising abuse at home I wanted to leave again. I spoke to my ex and started planning on returning. I also spoke to one of my great aunts that had a husband who cheated early on before they got married and she and they turned out to be a wonderful power couple. Now that she's widowed, she still has so many great things to say about him. She told me that getting over him cheating wasnt easy but that it all worked out in the end. By no means did she ever tell any of my cousins and I to stay with a partner that cheated. She never wanted us to glamorize pain in relationships but she did say that life wasnt always black and white. She would never judge us for it and many couples have gone through it and have preserveered. Some people CAN change even if rarely. We just need to know to leave if we see that they dont. She always said once is enough but twice is a pattern. And I took it to heart
I went back to him and to some degree I was settling but I was also happy and became genuinely more happy over time. At least happier than I was at home. To my knowledge the cheating stopped and we were doing so great. He was more open and honest with me. He seemed like he had genuinely changed and I stupidly believed it whole heartedly. I was on cloud 9 after a few months. I was finally starting to think that me leaving him made him straighten up and I was considering that coming back wasnt being such a bad idea.
But nope. The 2 rules I had for our relationship to work was for him to attend therapy for himself and couples therapy with me for his issues with the cheating and for him to cut all contact with Brit and his ex wife. No texting, no calling, or contacting either one in any form or fashion. Over time, when I started trusting him again I told him he could have any other female friends. And that I would accept it whole heartedly. He could talk to them just keep me informed due to his history.
I was completely ok with new female friends because I'm not all about being controlling. Since I took him back and we were on a new page trying to work then why hold it over his head? I was sincerely ready to move on and be the best couple that we could be putting everything behind us. I actually encouraged him to be friends with other women if possible because I wanted things to be normal. I wanted him to know that I was willing to try to trust him in that area again.
But I also told him if he messed up one more time, that that was the end of us for good and that I meant it.
Well can you tell why I'm here?
He stopped going to therapy and low and behold I caught him messaging Brit again. His phoned buzzed and I opened it up knowing it was facebook and I scrolled through laughing at a few posts and went to close out of the app and saw his snapchat open....on an account that he hadnt had in almost a year. From what I saw, she reached out first and it seemed like friendly conversation and only friendly but I dont care. This was one of two girls he routinely used to disrespect and disregard my feelings for. Before I left for home the first time he even tried to get her to move in into our apartment claiming that he realized that he was polygamous when her partner broke up with her and she had know where to go.
He claims that she's been his friend for years, he knows what he did with her in the past was wrong but that he is horrible at making new friends and just needed someone to talk to. I will admit he is horrible at meeting new people and the friends he does have are adults; all have jobs and or kind of flaky at times...but its no excuse. I told him I understood his need for companionship but she and his ex wife were off limits. I told him that his need to be friends with her went above his ability to be a good partner to me. I only wanted 2 things and he couldnt even do that.
I even let him know of a friend that I had made through work and how she wanted us all to hang out and do double dates with her partner. Then he said he didnt want it forced upon him.
I think I'm pissed off in this situation because I dont ask for much. As his gf for 6 years I never did. I was the one to get involved with his interests like gaming and guns, his taste in music but he never got involved with mine. The most simplest thing I like to do on occasionis go walking through a park or trail and hes done it twice with me in 6 years? 30 minutes tops? I also ride horses and love museums and zoos and I think we went to an aquarium once?? Has he ever stepped foot on a horse? No.
I accepted so much of him and his flaws and took him back with only 2 things to make it work.
I simply wanted therapy which he and I have insurance for and for him to not speak to his ex wife or Brit. He couldnt even do that. And on top of that chose to try to come to an agreement on talking to her by showing me what they text to each other.....Instead of just not talking to her.
I'm done.
If my emotions will always be pushed to the side for another woman, especially one he has previously cheated on me with then I am over it. Shes like a reoccuring ghost. I have packed a majority of my items and am leaving to go back home this Thursday. I'm staying at a friends apartment for the time being to stay away from him.
The AITA part now comes in because my friends mother is saying that I since took him back that I should accept that he cheated and and if I wanted things to work out then I should move on. She said that he can talk to whomever he wants and its my job to just blindly trust him. I agree to some extent as I said before, I was willing to trust him around other women but I have my limits. Why keep in contact with the same woman you cheated on me with. Just text cheatining or not.
Whether or not I'm the AH for expecting him to drop Brit like a piece of hot coal for me to be happy, I'm staying away. He ruined his chance but I am curious. This woman is really getting under my skin but I dont think im wrong here? I may suck for staying so long and giving him chance after chance but I dont believe the AH for leaving when he couldnt abide by my two simple rules.
tldr; AITH for breaking up with my now ex because he wouldnt cut contact with the girl he text cheated on me multiple times with?
Edit: grammer
Update
Since i was dealing with my friends mom and felt uncomfortable in her house, I was dropped off back at my apartment and slept in my car for a short bit (Cant drive due to a work related injury and a concussion but thats a looong another story for another day.) I finally went inside after I figured my ex was asleep ajd spent the night on the couch.
Im not gonna lie guys, in the morning.....I was devastated. I broke down harder than I ever have. I cried so much. I think that I was just more hurt at the fact that I had let all my walls down, let him into my heart when he didnt even deserve it, and he broke my trust again. I felt like nothing and that maybe I wasnt worthy of love. I blamed myself and questioned what I didnt have over any other woman he's text cheated on me with, actually slept with (his ex wife) , and the one he's repeatedly text cheated on me with over the full 6 years that he's never even met in person. I felt like I was on a lower tier than all of them and wondered why I wasnt good enough to be his one and only.
It was so bad that I was on the verge of suicide and in so many words, involved pills I attempted it. Any ounce of dignity I had in this situation was out the window. I was messageing him and begging him to tell me why I wasnt enough. We had both gained weight over the years while dating eachother; especially me due to the stress of dealing with him and his horrible habits. I asked him if it was because I had gained weight. He said no. I asked him why he would date me for so long and treat me this way. If I wasnt enough then why wouldnt he just break up with me. Why keep making me suffer? I even asked him if he hated me for some unknown reason and was doing this to hurt me. That would make more sense. (And side note: his excuse for cheating on me with his ex three times was because he wanted to hurt her one last time by letting her in and then leaving because she had hurt him so bad....not caring about the pain he caused me. I know. Dumb right. Right.)
He said it wasnt me and that it was all him. In my fury and frustration I told him I felt like he was lying and to just tell me the truth and he kept saying that he was the POS, not me. I sat on my couch and continued crying until he went away because of work. Then finally it just stopped. I sat for a long time thinking of everything.
I was still overcome with sadness but I felt like my cry was just one that I definitely needed but it was over. All the pain, worrying, and self doubt, had just finally washed over me. I looked at everything that I had packed away and it just clicked.
Why am I moving?
Im not the one that continously stepped out, I'm not the one that has a dad down the road or family anywhere near my general area. He does and he can get his own place. I had done nothing wrong in this situation. I deserved better. He should be the one to leave.
I grabbed my conditioner from one of my many boxes and took a long well needed shower and washed my hair.
When I got out I watched a fun movie, styled my hair and started unpacking my things. I sent him a message about how the bed was now mine and he could sleep on the couch until he finds a new place to stay. I told him he could move in with his dad, he could find a new apartment or whatever but Im not leaving. He could get his bed back then, I can get a new one after. Since he always stepped out he should be the one to leave. I even sent a few apartments near the area because I knew they were cheap and some closer to his job.
He had an excuse as to why each apartment wouldnt wouldnt work out, some more valid than others but I kept sending more and told him he had to choose. This morning he text me saying he would find one on his own after I messaged a few more. I left it at that but I cant wait to have this apartment to myself and just feel free again.
I feel that he thinks this will pass over with time but its set in stone. He has to go. Im now hanging with a friend and enjoying my time today and I feel like I can breathe. Will update tou guys when he GTFO of my house.
submitted by mintey24 to cheating_stories [link] [comments]


2020.10.06 04:27 honeywhite TIFU by poking holes in a girlfriend's already fragile ego and then twisting the knife

So, a couple weeks ago, I met someone online... or rather, got to know her slightly better, because we'd done the online equivalent of saying hi to each other before. So, at that point we're just trading A/S/Ley kind of stuff (I'm a 28 year old law-educated businessman from Britain living in Moneytopia, she's a 30 year old American oncological biologist living in Cashistan) but things turn to the more serious topics, like science and language and medicine and law... pretty soon we're laughing it up like old mates. Mentality matches, IQ matches, sense of humour matches, even things like style of (hypothetical, in my case) parenting, attitude towards recreational substances, and... sexual proclivities? Great.
We both work (I'm self employed), and Covid is starting to become a concern, so we do Skype dates on her off days and text otherwise, with first real life date scheduled "when the pandemic is over and done with" (i.e. when Covid, though it may still EXIST, is no longer in a pandemic), and we pretty much both know it'll end in freaky-deaky steaming hot and very possibly public sex, because, well, see above. We trade Facebooks, Snapchats, Instas, and every other kind of social, including phone numbers, and we've been on Skype dates so I know that I'm dealing with a real human being, and that she is pretty much who she says she is. Neither of us is monogamous or cares one iota about monogamy, so cheating and jealousy are totally out of the equation.
Pretty much. I also know that she's a bit of a bullshit artist, in that nothing she's said about herself is STRICTLY accurate aside from her job. She doesn't live in Cashistan, but a suburb of Cashistan... she's 35, not 30... those clever nephews she brags about (for damn good reason) are her biological kids... she's separated, rather than divorced. Then there's an Amazon wishlist that includes 35 different kinds of heels and about a hundred different kinds of make-up, among, um... other things (massagers and police equipment, if you get my drift). But she's entertaining as hell, she promised not to pressure me to buy her anything (we've both got money and I stand to inherit), and so I let all the bullshit slide. I don't tell her that I know, because, well, I know that subconsciously she's told me so (i.e. giving me the Facebook, which exposes most of the bullshit, and her mother's Facebook exposes even more of the bullshit). I do run a background check, which tells me that I've picked up most of it. The bg check also tells me her other phone number and her mailing address, which I didn't ask for and don't really give a toss about (she's said she'd pick me up from the train station/airport, and if she stood me up, well, I wouldn't be happy but there's always the train/flight back).
Anyway, bored as I am one night, drunk on absinthe and high on a cocktail of pills, I decide I'll tell her that I know about the bullshit, as well as WHY she bullshits me (which, knowledgeable as I am about psychology, I can trace to insecurity about her looks/age). And then, I say that it's OK, that I knew ages ago but didn't say anything because I didn't want to hurt her, and that she can tell the strict truth and STILL be captivating because of the knowledge and sense of humour. Well, a few hours later, she messages me saying she's very hurt regardless... and ANGRY as hell (capitalisation hers, not mine)... that she knows I'm the type of person to shoot first, ask questions later, and apologise last of all... and she wants to be given a few days to think. Don't call me, I'll call you.
tl;dr I attacked a girl's insecurities and not only pushed her buttons but DANCED on them while cackling, in FULL knowledge that her ego was fragile and she was governed by her id. So now I'm very possibly in a breakup situation.
submitted by honeywhite to tifu [link] [comments]


2020.10.06 01:41 VictoriaKweenx Am I an idiot for taking him back ?

So basically me (18 f) and my boyfriend (22m) have been dating for a couple of months, long story short I fell head over heels in love with him and envisaged spending the rest of my life with him.
....But he has cheated twice in the span of two months. First time I caught him actively on dating profiles and him talking to other girls. He promised me would never do it again and then two weeks later I caught him sexting and having Skype sessions with a girl. He would sext her, tell her about his day, bitch about me, and he was also talking to her about meeting her abroad to escape from me and somewhere so he could fuck her.
When I saw these texts, my whole world came crashing down.
But I forgave him and moved back with him, because he seemed very remorseful. He was hysterically crying and telling me how sorry he was.
At first I wanted to leave him because I knew this was going to happen again and he was only sorry cos he got caught.
It’s been a few days since I’ve seen him again and things are great, better than they have ever been before but I just keep thinking that I’m such an idiot and that this is going to happen again but he really does seem like he’s changed. I really need some advice :(
His excuse for all this was that are all men are like him apparently and all they wanna do is fuck. He even at one point said that he couldn’t guarantee that if a hot girl approached him, he wouldn’t fuck her. But on the flip side, he’s an extremely caring person and he’s the only person in my life who genuinely loves me so I don’t want to lose him.
submitted by VictoriaKweenx to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.10.04 13:14 Gracchia On Social Media, a counterpoint with TL;DR

This was going to be a comment on one of many posts here against social media.
When I moved from my home country I decided that I would exclude my profiles: Facebook (8 years) and Instagram (3), on reddit I only always lurked and wanted to stay for the memes.
It was clear that 95% of the posts on these sites were garbage like:
The day I got on to delete FB, the first post was from the company where I work today, clicking it immensely improved my life. The other 5%.
I got thinking and remembered that other opportunities also came through these networks, I thought about how easy it was to tell my family that I was still alive, how easy it was to send a hello to a master in my area on the other side of the world, that I had a group of expatriates that helped each other and discussion groups about my few hobbies and that the news, even if skewed, kept me from ignorance about the other side of my world.
If I wanted to abandon the trash would I have to abandon all of that too?
I decided that no, and that I would turn those 5 into 100%, I would use the medias as tools.
First, I disabled all remaining notifications, so I didn't stop to look, then I unfollowed the people I didn't want to see anymore, I left only immediate family, relevant professional colleagues and added whoever else I was getting to know in my new country , whoever really needs my immediate contact has my phone number.
Then, I went on page by page that I liked and followed over the years and disliked all that wouldn't be missed, I left only hobby pages, those linked to my profession and some news that proved to be less biased, like reuters.
Finally, I methodically limited my time on these networks to half an hour a day, extensive conversations by Telegram, Whatsapp or Skype and only if I couldn’t meet personally and conveniently with a person (pre-covid comment)
Extra: I installed adBlock on my browser years ago and before getting on reddit, I didn't even know youtube had ads, which immensely improves the experience.
Today I am happy with the result and I no longer consider abandoning what I no longer see as entertainment, but as a tool. Abandoning these networks would disconnect me from the world and harm me as much as letting go of a professional software.
TL; DR: I turned the garbage from the networks into tools. So I want to hear how you who abandoned these networks access these benefits:
That's it, I almost never post, so please forgive the foul formatting, I'll edit it to improve later
submitted by Gracchia to simpleliving [link] [comments]


2020.10.02 12:49 pregnology How To Spice Up your Pregnancy Life

How To Spice Up your Pregnancy Life
By the time you reach the 40-week landmark of pregnancy, you pretty much are just begging to get this baby out of you. You’re so big, warn out, sick, hiunmmmmmmmm tired, and hormonal, that nothing sounds like fun except maybe a c-section. But, while everything seems to annoy you from your husbands chewing to the fact you can’t drink wine), there are still fun ways to make the time go by quickly. Here are just a few of them:

Don’t Judge; Indulge In Self Care

Allow yourself to be Queen Bee for a day (or even throughout all 9 months). Nap without guilt. Eat without guilt. Get a professional back massage or manicure. Take long baths. Buy extra soft bedding and a body pillow for your last trimester. If household work is too strenuous, hire a maid. Allow yourself to drink coffee or half a glass of wine every once in a great while.
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Take advantage of your status

People don’t dote on other people quite like they do a pregnant woman. Instead of trying to be too much of an independent woman, accept the bus seat. Allow people to carry your groceries. Let your husband make dinner. Take the compliments from strangers at the grocery store. There is no time like now to feel like a princess.
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Invest In A Great Wardrobe

Shop for a couple of special maternity outfits, including some pretty lingerie. Wear flattering colors and styles that bolster your inner-glow. Get your hair colored and styled and a manicure. Arrange for a glamour pregnancy shoot so you’ll have pictures to remember what a hot pregnant chick you were.
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Make Time With Friends

People naturally gravitate toward human interaction and intimacy, says Emma Seppälä, Ph.D., the associate director of the Center for Compassion and Altruism Research and Education at Stanford University School of Medicine. She explains, “Social connection helps us overcome stress.”. So if you're feeling anxious about birth classes, ob-gyn visits, and budgeting for baby necessities, take a break and book some girl time with your closest friends. See a movie or grab a bite to eat. Can't get together in person? No worries. "I Skyped with my best friend after every sonogram," says Denver mom Amy F. "She wanted to feel like she was there with me even if it was only for a few minutes."
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Lighten Up and Laugh

Pregnancy opens women up to a host of embarrassing, awkward, and funny situations. . Concentrate on the funny side. Laugh when "mother brain" makes you put your keys in the refrigerator and you can’t find the glasses that are on your face. Got a bad case of flatulence? Let it rip, girl! You’ve earned it!
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Indulge In Food

You know that the whole eating-for-two thing isn't really true,,.right? And that junk food is bad for you and your growing baby, so chocolate ice cream shouldn't be a daily staple. The fact is, most pregnant women experience specific cravings, and indulging in a few calorie splurges now and then can go a long way. . Miami mom Gali K. even traveled to Philadelphia to eat the cheesesteak she was craving!
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Adopt an attitude of gratitude

When we're happy with what we have -- and feel thankful for it -- we lead less stressed and more optimistic lives, according to research. So Dr. Seppälä recommends taking time out of each day to give thanks for your healthy pregnancy and anything else you're particularly grateful for, whether that's a supportive hubby or your new body pillow or the new ice cream shop that opened down the street. "I was sick during all three of my pregnancies," says mom Alexa S., of Santa Barbara, California, "but I was so grateful to my partner, who took care of me, helped out with our other kids, and made me laugh through it all."
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Add Some Kink

Spice up your sex life. Pregnancy can be a very sexy time — hormones are altered, senses are heightened, concern over getting pregnant is gone. Because conventional sex may be uncomfortable, now is a great time to get creative. Experiment with novel positions, new lingerie, different lighting. You may discover "treats" you and your partner can enjoy even after the baby is born. If the sparks have dwindled, keep the embers alive with cuddles and communication..
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Document the journey

Whether you snap regular belly-bump photos (the March of Dimes' CineMama app can help, and Pinterest is full of fun ideas) or keep a journal about what you're craving, how you're feeling, and what your baby is doing (hiccupping? kicking like crazy?) spend a few minutes each day or week documenting the experiences so you can remember every detail later down the he road. Because, trust us, you'll forget!)
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Stay Active

Sneaking in motion is a good way to relieve pain associated with pregnancy as well as keep you from gaining too much pregnancy fat. Whether that activity is going on a daily walk, swimming, taking an exercise class or doing maternity yoga, any of these options will give you a sense of accomplishment and you will likely meet friends in the process.
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submitted by pregnology to u/pregnology [link] [comments]


2020.10.02 04:31 CLearyMcCarthy The Things You Should Know About Tokyo's Strangest Convenience Store

I used to teach English in Tokyo, and while it was one of the best experiences of my life, I’d like to share some of my…other stories of my time in Japan. Last time I talked about my experience missing the last train, and this time I’d like to talk a bit about convenience stores (called konbini in Japanese), specifically the strangest one you'll ever come across.

The first time I ever saw a Shinnyu Chan’s I was with my friends Atsushi and Hiroshi. It was a Sunday night in December, probably around 11 PM. It had snowed earlier that day, which is pretty rare for Tokyo, but had turned to rain a few hours earlier, which had melted the snow and filled the air with a damp fog. Yori and Satomi had been with us initially, but decided to turn in around 9:30 or so since they had work in the morning. Atsushi and Hiroshi also had work in the morning, but were a lot drunker than Yori and Satomi, and were distinctly in the “the night cannot stop here!” sort of mindset. Considering I was just about as drunk and planned to keep drinking, I didn’t mind the company.

We ended up in Kichijoji, sort of bar hopping between different spots we all knew. Kichijoji’s a pretty fashionable neighborhood with a lot of cool alleyways about 20 minutes west of Shinjuku, and it’s definitely worth exploring if you’re ever in Tokyo. Eventually it was coming up on midnight, and Atsushi checked when the last trains were, and we reluctantly began to make our way back towards the train station. We’d ended up in a pretty residential part of the neighborhood, and it was pretty quiet, even for a Sunday night. As we came around a corner, Atsushi and Hiroshi stopped in their tracks, and I followed their eyes to a fairly unassuming konbini, its neon sign casting a red glow on the fog and houses around it. It wasn’t a chain I recognized, and I felt uneasy when Atsushi and Hiroshi glanced at each other, then at me, then back at the store.

Konbini are pretty ubiquitous in Japan, especially in Tokyo. Across Japan there are about 50,000 of them, and unlike a lot of so-called “convenience stores” in the West, Japanese konbini are actually genuinely convenient. They’re pretty small, but they use the space effectively, and have a surprisingly large selection. Pre-packaged food, hot food, cold food, drinks of all sorts, magazines, household goods, and even some limited clothing options (usually things like undershirts and tights) are pretty standard fare at all Konbini. You can also do things like buy concert and baseball tickets, and you can even pay most of your bills right at the konbini. It’s how I paid my cell phone, electric, and water bills every month. They’re really great. Some standalone konbini exists, but most of them are huge chains. Family Mart, 7-11, and Lawsons are some examples.

I was quite surprised to see a konbini with a logo I didn’t recognized, but I at first assumed it might have just been independently owned and operated. The logo was a fairly plain red square with a white circle in the center, and black lettering (all in Japanese) presumably showing the name of the store. I didn’t see any customers inside, but the fluorescent lights on inside certainly made it look open. Most konbini are 24/7 so that wouldn’t have been too surprising. Atsushi and Hiroshi hadn’t said anything for a few moments. Part of me wanted to keep going to catch the train, and part of me wanted to go into the store to get some more alcohol. I asked them if everything was alright, but they did not respond. They almost seemed to be having a silent conversation, and eventually Atsushi sort of sighed, and turned to me.

We must go into the store,” he said, and I nodded. That’s the first thing you need to know: when you see a Shinnyu Chan’s, you must go inside.

CLearyMcCarthy, you must buy something, but you must not take it home,” Hiroshi added.

I laughed at how strange it sounded, but stopped quickly when I saw not a hint of humor in his eyes. Hiroshi is usually very lighthearted and quick to joke, and the way he was looking at me, dead serious, gave me a chill. I stopped laughing, and nodded, and we made our way inside. That’s the second thing when you see a Shinnyu Chan’s: you must buy something, but you cannot take it home with you.

Irasshaimase!" the clerk yelled from behind her counter, and I nodded politely to her. She had dark straight hair just a bit past her ears and bangs, and appeared to be either in her late teens or early twenties. Nothing about her stood out as odd, but as my eyes caught hers, I felt a shiver run through me, possibly from the cold. When our eyes met, she met my gaze, and as I began to follow my friends, I realized she was still watching me. I didn’t keep my eyes on her the entire time, but from glimpses in the store’s security mirror, I could see she was watching us the whole time. I tried to tell myself that she must have just been bored, but the idea that she was watching us filled me with dread. Later on I asked Hiroshi if she was watching us, and to my horror he nodded, and then told me the third thing you need to know:

Do not ever look to her eyes.” I honestly can’t say if avoiding eye contact stops her from watching you, but it’s definitely better not to know.

Atsushi and Hiroshi had somewhat singularly made their way straight to the cold drinks, but I wasn’t as quick to join them. Everything felt off in the store. From the outside the lights had looked like pretty normal florescent lights, but on the inside everything seemed kind of dim and dark. There was a thin layer of grime forming in the corners of the windows, and as I picked up a bag of potato chips to see what flavor they were, I realized it was covered in a thin layer of dust. Have you ever found an old magazine and picked it up, and it feels almost like the dust is embedded in the fabric? That’s how every single object inside of Shinnyu Chan’s feels. I picked up a magazine, and a cup of instant noodles, and they all felt that way. I was almost with them when I saw something that made me stop.

I’m a somewhat casual fan of the Gundam series, but when I lived in Tokyo, I started collected old Gundam action figures. They’re not terribly expensive, and usually not especially rare, but it was just a fun hobby to fill my time with. There was one set that I’d wanted for a while but hadn’t been able to find, until that night at Shinnyu Chan’s. There it was, in mint condition, still shrink wrapped, on the shelf right next to the cold drinks. I stopped and picked it up, and even though it had that same dusty feeling I was sure the plastic would protect it. Atsushi saw me pick it up, and stepped towards me.

You cannot bring it home with you,” he said. At that point I still didn’t really grasp the seriousness of his warning and was mostly frustrated to be given a hard time about buying a rare collectible I’d wanted for a while. But that’s the fourth thing: they always have something you want, and it’s never easy to leave without it.

Fortunately, I saw the price and realized I didn’t have enough cash on me. Credit and Debit cards are becoming more common in Japan, but by and large it’s still a cash-based society, and I didn’t have either. My bank account came with an ATM card that could only make withdrawals at ATMs, and I was completely cash based. The set was only 4,000 Yen, about 40 dollars, and after the night we’d been having all I had on me were a few 100-yen coins. I knew we didn’t have time to go to an ATM, so I put it back on the shelf and resolved to come back the next day. I joined them in looking over the drinks, and found the selection unusual. None of the common Japanese brands seemed to be there, instead there were brands I didn’t recognize, and many of them were foreign.

We ended up each grabbing a can of what looked like beer with Cyrillic writing on it, and made our way up to pay. The entire walk up to the counter, the girl was staring directly into my eyes, the same forced smile on her face as when we’d entered, and I noticed that Atsushi and Hiroshi were avoiding looking at her. We put down the drinks on the counter, and she asked if we were all 20. Hiroshi is in his 30s but looks and dresses very young, and I was in my early 20s so that didn’t surprise me, but Atsushi is in his 50s and looks it, so the question seemed very strange. We all answered “hai,” and Atsushi paid in exact change. That’s the fifth thing about Shinnyu Chan’s: you pay with exact change.

We took our beers and left in silence, something about the experience sitting very wrong with me. As we reached the corner that would take us out of sight of the building I glanced back and saw the shop girl standing at the window, her eyes still locked on mine. We rounded the corner onto a fairly brightly lit shopping street, and quickly made our way over to a 7-11. Tokyo has very few public trashcans, but most konbini have them outside for customers to use. A small old man was standing next to them, smoking a cigarette as we approached, and he and I made eye contact. He nodded to me politely, and extended the pack of cigarettes in his hand towards me in a silent offer, but I shook my head and bowed slightly in appreciation, which made him laugh. He finished his cigarette and left just as we were cracking open our beers. We had to drink fast to make the train, which suited me fine since they tasted pretty skunked. Atsushi collected the cans when we were finished, shook them to make sure they were empty, then put them in the recycling. We were taking different trains (they were taking the JR Chuo line back to Shinjuku, and I was taking the Keio Inogashira Line with a transfer at Meidaimae to get back home. Hiroshi said a fairly drunk and perfunctory goodbye before making his way to the platform, but Atsushi stayed back for a moment.

CLearyMcCarthy, it is important. If you see a Shinnyu Chan you must buy something, you must use the exact yen, and you must never bring it home with you. This is for your safety.” I didn’t know how to respond and then he was gone, and I went back to my apartment, troubled by the experience, and drank until about 4 in the morning, when I ran out of Whiskey.

It was late when I woke up, and I was about as hungover as I suppose you’d expect from the night I’d had. In the light of day, the situation seemed less frightening than it initially had been, and I figured Atsushi and Hiroshi were just playing some kind of a prank on me. I couldn’t stop thinking about the action figure at the store, and shortly after eating breakfast/lunch, I decided I had to go back to Kichijoji. I tried to google the store before going, but wasn’t able to find anything. If you google Shinnyu Chan’s, you’ll never get any results. This gave me pause, but 4000 yen was a great deal for the set, and I couldn’t stop myself. I hit up the ATM, and got on the train. It takes about 20 minutes to get to Kichijoji from Chitose-Karasuyama, but the sun was already very low in the sky when I got off the train. I’d had a late start, and it was winter, and sunset always comes fast in Tokyo for how tall the buildings tend to be. I wanted to be quick, not relishing the thought of being back in the store after sundown.

I never did find the store, of course. I found the 7-11 easily and was so sure it had been just around the corner, but it wasn’t there. I figured between the dark, how strange the situation had been, and how drunk I’d been I had just misremembered, but no matter how hard I looked I just couldn’t find it. I spent about an hour and a half looking, and by the time I gave up it was night again. I stopped by a police box nearby, and asked the officers if they knew where the store was. Their English was limited, but it was clear to me they’d understood the question, and had the same serious look on their faces as Atsushi and Hiroshi had when we first came upon it. One of them made an X sign with his arms to indicated he didn’t know, and the other shook her head. I thanked them, and was quickly on my way. That’s the sixth thing about Shinnyu Chan’s: they’re never in the same place twice.

The seventh thing is pretty closely related, and I’m not sure if this is a coincidence or not, but in my experience, you can never find a Shinny Chan’s if you’re looking for one. I suppose it’s a fair question as to why you’d go looking for a Shinnyu Chan’s; they aren’t fun places to visit, and I’d prefer not to think about it. Still, sometimes morbid curiosity gets the better of you. Sometimes you want to find one to try to make sense of what’s happening, or you get obsessed with whatever item you wanted at the last one you saw. More times than I'd like to admit I glanced to the gap in my Gundam collection and wondered if it would be as bad as they'd said. Only a few times was I dumb enough to go outside and try to find a Shinnyu Chan's.

I almost wondered if the whole experience hadn’t been a dream of some kind, up until the 2nd time I encountered one. I wanted to dismiss it as superstition, but the Kichijoji store vanishing made me weigh Atsushi and Hiroshi’s words carefully, and I followed the rules and bought a beer. It was altogether uneventful, but it was when I first noticed the last thing: it’s always the same clerk. In the years since I left Japan and have gone back to visit, I’ve only encountered a Shinnyu Chan’s once, and I’m sorry to report that she also doesn’t seem to age. I wish I had more information about who she is, but I can’t get an answer out of anyone.

I've never been able to get any more information about it. I’ve yet to meet another foreigner who has encounter Shinnyu Chan’s, and none of the Japanese people I know like to talk about it. I am skyping with Atsushi and Yori this weekend, and I'm going to try to ask them some questions about it. In the meantime:

If you’re in Japan and you come across a konbini that has a red sign with black Japanese lettering inside a white circle, don’t panic, but do keep the following in mind:
1. You must go in
2. You must buy something
3. You cannot bring anything from Shinnyu Chan’s home with you
4. They will have something you want, but you have to leave it there
5. You must pay with exact change
6. They’re never in the same place twice
  1. You won’t find one if you’re looking for it
8. It is always the same clerk, and she doesn’t age
submitted by CLearyMcCarthy to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.10.01 21:45 normancrane Iris [3/5]

Back to Table of Contents

- - -

2025, Post-

Gold is precious because it’s rare. Now close your eyes and imagine that the next time you open them, everything in your world will be golden: your kitchen table, the bananas you bought on the way home from work yesterday, your bottle of shampoo, even your teeth. Now blink. You’re not alone. The market’s flooded. Gold isn’t rare anymore. It’s everywhere. Which means that it’s worth about as much as its weight in mud, because there’s nothing intrinsically good about gold. Can you write on your gold table? It scratches. Surely you can’t eat your golden fruit. Your shampoo’s not a liquid anymore, so your hair’s already starting to get greasy. And if you do find something to eat that’s not made of metal, how long will those gold teeth last before you grind them into finely polished nubs?
For two days the Earth glittered.
For two days we lived in a daze of perfection.
And then, on March 29, a researcher working with lab mice at Stanford University noticed something odd. All of his female mice were pregnant. He contacted several of his colleagues who were also working with mice, rats, and monkeys. All their female animals were pregnant, too. Some of the colleagues had wives and girlfriends. They took innocent-seeming trips to their local pharmacies and bought up all the available pregnancy tests. At home, women took test after test and all of them showed positive. By midnight, the researchers had drafted a joint letter and sent copies of it to the major newspapers in their countries. On the morning of March 30, the news hit.
When I checked my Twitter feed after breakfast, #impregtoo was already trending. Throughout the day, Reddit lit up with increasingly bizarre accounts of pregnancies that physically couldn’t be but, apparently, were. Post-menopausal women, celibate women, prepubescent girls, women who’d had their uteruses removed only to discover that their reproductive systems had spontaneously regenerated like the severed tales of lizards. Existing early stage pregnancies aborted themselves and re-fertilized, like a system rebooting. Later term pregnancies developed Matryoshka-like pregnancies nested within pregnancies. After a while, I stopped reading, choosing to spend time with my wife instead. As night fell, we reclined on the sofa, her head on my chest, Pillow curled up in our tangle of feet, the television off, and the streets of Toronto eerily quiet save for the intermittent blaring of far off sirens, as any lingering doubts about the reality of the situation melted away like the brief, late season snow that floated gently down from the sky, blackening the streets.
On March 30, the World Health Organization issued a communique confirming that based on the available data it was reasonable to assume that all female mammals were pregnant. No cause was identified. It urged any woman who was not pregnant to step forward immediately. Otherwise, the communique offered no guidance. It indicated merely that the organization was already working with governments around the world to prepare for a massive influx of human population in approximately nine months’ time. Most places, including Toronto, reacted with stunned panic. Non-essential workplaces and schools were decried closed. People were urged to stay indoors. Hospitals prepared for possible complications. A few supermarkets ran out of canned food and there were several bank runs, but nothing happened that the existing systems couldn’t handle. Populations kept their nerve. Highway and air traffic increased slightly as people rushed to be with their friends, families and gynaecologists. We spent the entire day in our apartment and let Pillow pee in the tub. Except for the conspiracy theorists, who believed that the Earth was being cosmically pollinated by aliens, most of us weren’t scared to go outside, but we were scared of the unknown, and we preferred to process that fear in the comfort of our own dens.
The New York Times ran a front page editorial arguing for an evaluation of the situation using Kurt Schwaller’s theory of everything. In conjunction with The Washington Post, The Guardian and The Wikipedia Foundation, a website was set up asking users for technical help, monetary donations and the sharing of any surplus computing power.
The project quickly ran into problems. To accurately predict anything, the theory of everything needed sufficient data, and, on April 2, cryptome.org published a series of leaked emails between the French Minister of Health and a high-ranking member of World Health Organization that proved the latter’s communique had been disingenuous at best. Externally, the World Health Organization had concluded that all female mammals were pregnant. That remained true. However, it had failed to admit an even more baffling development: the wombs of all female mammals had inexplicably become impenetrable to all rays and materials that had so far been tried against them. For all intents and purposes, there was no way to see inside the womb, or to destroy it. The only way to revert the body to its natural form, to terminate the pregnancy, was to kill the woman—an experiment that, according to the high-ranking member of the World Health Organization, the French government had helped conduct on unwilling women in Mali. Both parties issued repeated denials until a video surfaced showing the murders. I couldn’t bring myself to watch it. They spun their denials into arguments about the necessity of sacrificing lives for the greater good.
Reminded once again of the deception inherent in politics, many turned to religion, but the mainstream religions were hesitant to react. They offered few opinions and no answers. The fringe religions split into two camps. Some leaders welcomed this development, the greatest of all known miracles, while others denounced the same as a universal and unnatural punishment for our collective sins of hedonism, egoism and pride. The most successful of all was the Tribe of Akna, a vaguely mystical Maya revival cult that sprang up seemingly overnight and was led by a Guatemalan freelance programmer named Salvador Abaroa. Although it originated in Mexico City, the Tribe spread as quickly across the world as the computer viruses that Abaroa was notorious for creating. On the Tribe’s homepage, Abaroa could be seen striking an antique brass gong and saying in Spanish-tinged English, “Like energy, life is never destroyed. Every one of us plays an integral part of the cosmic ecosystem. Every man, woman and virus.” Elsewhere on the website, you could buy self-published theological textbooks, listen to scratchy recordings of speeches by Alan Watts and read about the hypothesis that Maya thought was deeply connected to Buddhism because the Mayans had crossed the Pacific Ocean and colonized Asia.
But despite the apparent international cooperation happening at the highest levels, the first week of April was an atomizing period for the so-called people on the ground. We hunkered down. Most personal communication was digital. My wife and I exchanged emails with her parents and sister, but we met no one face-to-face, not even on Skype. We neither invited our neighbours to dinner nor were invited by them, despite how easy it was to walk down the hall and knock. I read far more than I wrote, and even when I did write, responding to a blog post or news story, I found it easier to relate to strangers than to the people I knew. My wife said I had a high tolerance for solitude. “Who do you know in the city?” she asked. Although we’d been living here together for three years, she still considered Toronto mine. She was the stranger, I was the native. I said that I knew a few people from work. She told me to call one of them I’d never called before. I did, and the next day’s sky was cloudless and sunny and there were five of us in the apartment: my wife and I, my friend Bakshi and his wife Jacinda, and their daughter, Greta. Greta drank apple juice while the rest of us drank wine, and all five of us gorged ourselves on freshly baked peach cobbler, laughing at silly faces and cracking immature jokes. It hardly registered for me that the majority of the room was unstoppably pregnant, but wasn’t that the point: to forget—if only for a few hours? Instead of watching the BBC, we streamed BDRips of Hayao Miyazaki movies from The Pirate Bay. Porco Rosso ruled the skies, castles flew, a Catbus arrived at its magical stop. Then Bakshi’s phone rang, and he excused himself from the table to take the call. When he returned, his face was grey. “What’s the matter?” Jacinda asked him. He was still holding the phone to his ear. “It’s Kurt Schwaller,” he said. “They just found his body. They think he killed himself.”
Kurt Schwaller, the foremost theoretical physicist of his time and renowned discoverer of the theory of everything, committed suicide at the age forty-two in the humble bedroom of his Swiss home by swallowing sleeping pills. As far as suicides go, it was graceful and considerate. His husband found him peacefully at rest. He left behind no research, no reports and no working hard drives. He was not terminally ill. He died with his boots off but his computer on, and exactly six hours after his death the computer executed its final chronjob, posting a suicide note to his Facebook page. The note was short and cryptic, and the way in which it spoke so purposefully from beyond the grave unnerved me. It ended: “Like Edith Piaf, I regret nothing. This was not inevitable.” Whether he meant his suicide or something more remained unclear.
“Who’s Kurt Schwaller?” Greta asked.
“He was a very smart scientist,” Jacinda said.
The monitor on the wall was playing Spirited Away. Nobody in the room asked the question that was on everybody’s mind. The internet condensed into a cluster of theories, before exploding as a hysterics of trolling and contradictory evidence. Depending on who was speaking, Kurt Schwaller had either been depressed for years or was the most cheerful person in the world. He simultaneously regretted discovering the theory and considered it the best means of keeping human life sustainable. His death was suspicious, tragic, commendable, prophetic. Some said good riddance. Others said their goodbyes. Yet, as a species, we never quite shook the gnawing belief that he indeed knew something that we didn’t, and that that knowledge was what killed him. His mind may have been as hermetically sealed as the wombs of the women around us, but in his death we sensed our own foretold. I was relieved I didn’t have a daughter to explain that to.
By April 15, no opossums had given birth. By itself that’s not a troubling fact. However, the average gestation period of an opossum is 12 to 13 days. Hamsters, mice and wombats follow with gestation periods of around 20 days, then wombats, chipmunks and squirrels. No recorded births of any of these species occurred in April. Physically, their females looked pregnant but that was as detailed as it got: “The specimens display the ordinary symptoms of pregnancy, but they are displaying them in excess of their expected due dates, although they do remain healthy and function comparatively well to their male counterparts.” My wife and I developed a fascination with a particular family of opossums in Ohio that we watched daily via webcam. We gave them names, we pretended to be their voices. Our opossums had adventures, family squabbles and bouts of stress at work. The daughter, Irene, was rebellious. The son, Ziggy, was a nerd. The dad, whom we dubbed Monsieur Charles, sold insurance and the mom, Yvette, worked as stay-at-home technical support for Amazon. We realized right away that we were already preparing for the storytelling phase of parenthood, but we didn’t stop. As uncertain as the future was, the preparation for it was ours and we enjoyed doing it together. Nothing would take that away from us. When I touched my wife’s body in the shower and pressed the palm of my hand against her tummy, it felt no different than it had felt a month before. There was no hardness, no lumps. It seemed unreal that somewhere beneath her skin, for reasons unknown, her body had produced a substance that was impervious to diamond saw blades and precision lasers—a substance that, at least if you believed the rumours, the Russians were already trying to synthesize to use as tank plating.
For the rest of April it rained. Streaks of water ran crookedly down windowpanes, following the laws of physics but just barely. If you stared long enough at the wet glass you forgot there was anything behind it. Eventually, all you saw was your own distorted reflection. I liked when my wife put her arms around me from behind and pressed her chest against my back. I didn’t feel alone.
Pillow started to show her pregnancy in May. The World Health Organization also amended its initial communique, stating that based on the evidence regarding the prolonged gestations of other mammals, it was no longer able to predict an influx of human births in late December. If mice and gerbils weren’t birthing as predicted, humans might not either. However, the amendment stated, preparations were still proceeding along a nine month timeline, and they were ahead of schedule. When the BBC showed field hospitals in South Sudan, I wondered what the schedule entailed because the images were of skeletal tent-like buildings that despite their newness already had the aura of contamination. My wife said it was naive to expect the same medical standards in developing countries as in developed ones. Perhaps she was right. The BBC repeated the platitude that there wasn’t enough money for everyone, listed the foreign aid and private funds that had come in, and interviewed a tired young doctor who patiently answered questions while wiping sweat from his eyebrows. The United States Supreme Court issued an injunction against the New York Time’s theory of everything evaluation website based on a barrage of challenges from corporations that claimed the website violated their intellectual property. Another website sprang up overnight in Sweden, anonymous and hosted from compact discs. Salvador Abaroa announced a free Tribe of Akna gathering at Wrigley Field. Bakshi called. He and Jacinda had argued, and she’d taken Greta and their car and driven to the gathering in Chicago. We watched it on television. Salvador Abaroa banged his gong and advanced his theories. The world was made of squiggles, not lines, and all this time we’d only been approximating reality in the way an mp3 file approximates sound waves, or the way in which we approximate temperature, by cutting it into neat and stable increments that we mistake as absolutes. Zurich opened its arms for Kurt Schwaller’s funeral, which was interrupted by a streaker baring the logo and slogan of a diaper company. Police tackled the streaker and—for a moment—the mourners cheered. Later, an investigation of Kurt Schwaller’s Dropbox account performed in the name of international security revealed that he had deleted large amounts of files in the days leading up to his suicide. The Mossad, Bakshi told me, had been secretly monitoring Kurt Schwaller for at least the past two years because of his Palestinian sympathies and were now piecing together his computer activities by recreating his monitor displays from the detailed heat signatures they’d collected. The technology was available, Bakshi assured me. It was possible. I was more worried when Ziggy the Ohioan opossum injured his left leg. “Oh my God, what happened?” Yvette asked when she saw his bandaged limb. “You told me to be more physically active, so I tried out for the soccer team, mom,” he answered. “Did you make the team?” My wife’s breath smelled like black coffee. “No, but I sure broke my leg.” After pausing for some canned laughter, Yvette waddled obligingly toward Ziggy. “Well, you should at least have some of my homemade pasta,” she said. I made eating noises. “Do you know why they call it pasta, mom?” My wife turned from the monitor to look at me. “I don’t,” she said in her normal voice. “Because you already ate it,” I said. We laughed, concocted ever sillier plot lines and watched the webcam late into an unusually warm May night.
In June, I returned to work and Pillow joined the list of pregnant mammals now past their due dates. She ate and drank regularly, and other than waddling when she walked she was her old self. My wife started to show signs of pregnancy in June, too. It made me happy even as it reinforced the authenticity of the coming known unknown, as a former American Secretary of Defense might have called it. My wife developed the habit of posing questions in pairs: do you love me, and what do you think will happen to us? Am I the woman that as a boy you dreamed of spending your life with, and if it’s a girl do you hope she’ll be like me? Sometimes she trembled so faintly in her sleep that I wasn’t sure whether she was dreaming or in the process of waking. I pressed my body to hers and said that I wished I could share the pregnancy with her. She said that it didn’t feel like it was hers to share. She said she felt heavy. I massaged her shoulders. We kept the windows open during the day and the screen mesh out because the insects that usually invade southwestern Ontario in late May and early June hadn’t appeared. Birds and reptiles stopped laying eggs. We luxuriated in every bite of pancake that we topped with too much butter and drowned in maple syrup. We talked openly with our mouths full about the future because the world around us had let itself descend into a self-censoring limbo. The opossum webcam went dark. Bakshi dropped by the apartment one night, unannounced and in the middle of a thunderstorm. There was pain on his face. “What if what Kurt Schwaller meant was that fate was not inevitable until we made it so,” he said, sobbing. “What if our reality was a series of forking paths and by discovering the theory of everything we locked ourselves forever into one of them?” Jacinda had left him. “You’ll get her back,” I said. My wife made him a cup of tea that he drank boiling hot. He put down the cup—then picked it up and threw it against the wall. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to see if I could do something that I didn’t really want to do.” I bent down to pick up the broken pieces of porcelain. “You’ll get her back, Bakshi,” my wife said. Rain dripped onto our table from the ends of his black hair. “I don’t think so. I think we’re locked in and Kurt Schwaller took the only way out there is.” We didn’t let him go home. We discretely took all the knives from the kitchen and hid them in our bedroom, and did the same with the medicine in our bathroom, and Bakshi slept on our sofa, snoring loudly. He was still sad in the morning but felt better. We ate scrambled eggs, knowing that unless chickens started laying them again we were having a nonrenewable resource for breakfast.
Time was nonrenewable. My wife and I tried to take advantage of each second. But for every ten things we planned, we only did one. Our ambitions exceeded our abilities. On some days we were inexcusably lazy, lying in bed together until noon, and on others we worked nonstop at jobs like painting the walls, which later seemed insignificant. We considered leaving the city when the smog got too thick and renting a cottage in the country but we didn’t want to be without the safety of the nearness of hospitals and department stores. When we were scared, we made love. We ate a lot. We read short stories to each other. Outside our apartment, the world began to resemble its normal rhythms, with the exception that everywhere you went all the women were visibly pregnant. Some tried to hide it with loosely flowing clothes. Others bared their bellies with pride. I flirted with a supermarket cashier with an Ouroboros tattoo encircling her pierced belly button. After she handed me my change I asked her if she’d had it done before or after March 27. “Before,” she said. “What does it mean?” I asked. “That people have been making up weird shit for a long time and we’re still fucking here.” In Pakistan, the United Nations uncovered a mass grave of girls killed because they were pregnant—to protect the honour of their families. When I was a kid in Catholic school, my favourite saint was Saint Joseph because I wanted to love someone as much as he must have loved Mary to believe her story about a virgin birth.
On July 1, we subduably celebrated Canada Day. On July 4, my wife shook me awake at six in the morning because she was having back spasms and her stomach hurt. She got out of bed, wavered and fell and hit her head on the edge of a shelf, opening up a nasty gash. I helped her to the bathroom sink, where we washed the wound and applied a band-aid. She tried throwing up in the toilet but couldn’t. The sounds of her empty retching made me cold. The cramps got worse. I picked her up and carried her out of the apartment—Pillow whined as I closed the door—and down to the underground garage, where I helped her into the back seat of our car. Pulling out into the street, I was surprised by the amount of traffic. It was still dark out but cars were already barrelling by. On Lake Shore, the traffic was even worse. I turned on the radio and the host was in the middle of a discussion about livestock, so I turned the radio off. Farther in the city foot traffic joined car traffic and the lights couldn’t have changed more slowly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw women collapsing on the sidewalks, clutching their stomachs. I kept my eyes ahead. At a red light, a black woman kept banging on the passenger’s side door until I rolled down the window. She asked if she could get a ride. I asked to where. “To the hospital, where else?” she said in sing-song Jamaican. I let her in and at the green light stepped as heavily on the gas as I could. In the back seat, my wife’s eyes were barely open. The Jamaican woman was in better shape. Noticing my concern, she said, “Don’t worry yourself none. I was like that this morning, too, but I’m better now. It comes and then it goes.” I was still worried. The streets around the hospital were packed with parked cars, but I found a spot by turning the wrong way up a one way street. The wheel hit the curb. I got out. The Jamaican woman helped me with my wife, and the three of us covered the distance from the car to the hospital in minutes. Ambulance sirens wailed close by. I heard the repetitive thump of helicopter blades. I glanced at my watch. 7:24. In the hospital, the hallways and waiting room were packed. There was standing room only. I left my wife leaning against a sliver of wall and ran to the reception desk. The Jamaican woman had disappeared. When I opened my mouth to speak, the receptionist cut me off: “Just take a seat, Mister, same as everybody else. Stay alert, stay calm. If you need water you can get it down the hall. We’re trying to get as many doctors down here as we can as quickly as we can, but the roads are jammed and there’s more than one hospital. That’s all I’ve been told.” I relayed the information to my wife word for word, once I found her—the waiting room was becoming encrusted with layers of incoming people—and then they shut the hospital doors—and my wife nodded, looking at me with eyes that wanted to close. I kept her lids open with my thumbs. My watch read 7:36. I wanted to tell her I loved her but was stupidly embarrassed by the presence of so many people who might laugh. I didn’t want to be cheesy. “It comes and it goes,” I said, “so just keep your eyes open for me until it goes, please.” She smiled, and I touched my lips to hers without kissing them. Her lips were dry. Around me shouts were erupting. There was a television in the corner of the waiting room, showing scenes of crowded hospitals in Sydney and Paris, and violence in Rio de Janeiro, where families huddled together in the streets while men, young and old, flung rocks, bricks and flaming bottles at a cordon of black-clad BOPE behind which politicians and their families were running from shiny cars to state-run clinics. My wife’s weak voice brought me back to the present. “What do you think happened to Monsieur Charles?” she asked. “I don’t know, but I’d guess he’s probably just getting ready for work now,” I said. She smiled and the pressure on my thumbs increased. Her eyes started to roll back into her head. “Don’t go away,” I said. “Don’t leave me.” I felt her eyes sizzle and shake like frying spheres of bacon. I couldn’t hold them open anymore. I didn’t know what to do. The shouting in the hospital had devolved into chaos. “Do you know why they call it pasta?” I said. I didn’t expect her to answer. I didn’t expect any reaction, but, “Because I already ate it,” she said, smiling—and it was the last thing she ever said, her last smile I ever saw, because in that moment there was a horrible whine that made me press my fists against my ears and in the same instant every woman in the hospital exploded.

- - -

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2020.09.29 23:05 JoeyCAV831 Girl tryed to blackmail me over Skype last night.

So I had decided to check out the dating site Ashley Madison. I started talking with a couple different girls on there and it was getting exciting. They just want discreet, casual fun. So one girl convinced me to text her. I set up one of those burner number apps and start exchanging texts back and forth. She then convinces me to Skype her. I was hesitant at first but that was the only way I could see her nude. So I said fuck it, ill do it. I never use Skype so I created an account real quick with my main email, that I use for everything. So when you create an account it fills in everything with your full name. I got rid of my last name for the username. Then called her up. She was hot and got naked instantly. I was still weird and shy about the whole situation. She kept pushing me wanting to see more of me. Asking for more light, different angles of me, etc. Then all of a sudden her screen was a recording of me. She typed out a message saying "You have 2 minutes to decide, give me money or this gets posted on Facebook for all your family to see" My heart dropped and I was in shock. I didn't know what to say. Then another message appears " You think im playing around" and started naming people I didn't know. I was confused. It hit me that she didn't have my profile up. I never heard of any of these people. Then she messaged "all your family and co-workers will see this if you dont pay up". I just ended the call, blocked her real quick. Then I realized my Skype ID name was my Gmail account, which happens to be my full name. So in a panic I just googled my Gmail and my LinkedIn and Facebook profile popped right up. So I quickly went to Facebook and made everything as private as I can. Can't view my friends, can't tag me in anything, only I can see my timeline. Then quickly went to LinkedIn where it has my actual phone number and resume up. That was easier to make private. Then kept double, triple checking my Facebook settings. Making sure I made no mistakes. It was around 12am and in a panic I kept checking the settings. Then went to my Gmail account and kept monitoring and making sure nothing unusual is happening to my account. I just was waiting and waiting. If it got posted I want to be able to report it asap.
But its been alittle over 12 hours since and so far its been all quiet. Im not sure if she even got my Skype/Gmail account name. There are only 15- 20 people with the same name as me. So she could find me easily. Im just hoping she didn't see it. I read up on other victims to this scam and they would be harassed for weeks. So let's see how this plays out. I put an alert if my name gets Googled.
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2020.09.29 12:07 worldsightseer35 "If only you would have behaved with those bullies back in middle school like you're behaving with me now😞"

Mom, there's a difference. Actually, there are a lot.
1) The most I got from them was pinching or punching for a maximum two or three days in 3 years, and that's 'cause I had come running to you and you had told them what for (ya know, a parent sticking up for their then 11-12 year-old son, good stuff). I vividly remember you telling me back then that I had been right in coming to you and asked that I did so again in the future.
2) They didn't get all psycho on me at the end of my first year of high school when I told you and Dad that I had a crush on my male classmate. For one, they had been gone from my life for a year, and two, they never proceeded to give me hell for two weeks straight after with gaslighting and insults 'cause "THAT CAN'T BE SO😭! When I had you, I had imagined you with such a beautiful girl you would get married with, as well as having beautiful children. Oh woe is me😭!"
3) In the following years, those middle school bullies weren't the ones to live with me, leaving me alone to do as I like most of the time, while occasionally (at least once every two months) berating me on anything they could find (way of spending my time, way of carrying myself, way of feeling empathy, not having found a girlfriend yet while other peers my age around me did) and also heavily insulting me. It all started with that dreaded phrase every single f*cking time, "*my name*, could you come here for a sec, please? We would like to talk".
4)Those bullies weren't the ones who immediately screamed at me to stop studying Slovene because we were going by car from Italy to Romania together, and Slovenia seemed to be a lovely little country in the middle whose language felt like I would enjoy learning about, even if I could not find much use for it other than that (SPOILER ALERT, seeing the Slovene alphabet has been helping me writing down pronunciations for Russian, which I'm currently studying, so there's that :P). Dad knows a bit of Serbian and Turkish, languages that they could argue not being very useful (economically speaking, at least, but don't quote me on that). Oh, but Dad had to go find work there in the '90s, so his motivations are valid.
5) Those fellow peers of mine weren't the ones to (again) insult me when I tried to fish for information on old Dacian mythology by asking them (Dacians I think were the ones to inhabit the territory of Romania in ages long past) in order to try to find a plausible way to outline (create/think up/come up with) a plot for a book that I would really like to write. "Why the hell are you focusing on looking up gods instead of trying to find yourself a girlfriend?!"
6) They aren't the ones who, everytime I (20M) come home from the city I'm currently attending university in, proceed to act glad to have me staying with them again for a week or two, and then managing to fall back into old habits from back when I was a teenager, "giving me advice" on who to spend my time with, how I should do so... sometimes it's focusing more on my studies, sometimes it's about finding a girlfriend, even they can't seem to make up their mind.
Disclaimer: of course you've never seen me with a girlfriend in the last 5 years if the ones I met in our area either didn't feel about me they I felt about them, or they just led me on while not even managing to be a good friend to me even.
Another disclaimer: I don't know how many times I explained it to them, but alas, I've given up: UNIVERSITY EXAMS ARE NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL. IF I CAN'T PASS THEM ONE TIME, I'LL LEARN FROM MY MISTAKES AND DO THEM BETTER NEXT TIME. Plus, they are free, so I really don't get this point of contention.
My Mom told me this (the title) back in July when I blew up on them during a Skype call because they had found out that I had looked up an event known here in Italy as "Sentinelle in Piedi" (sentinels on foot), namely a bunch of people standing outside in the town square at 3 in the afternoon (here in Italy it's very hot during summer) with black long jeans (and I think black shirts?) with their Bibles opened, (or, I was told also recipe books for those that didn't have one), just... standing there. Why were they standing there, you might be asking yourselves? Well, they were standing there to protest against the legal banning of homophobia. Yep, you read that right.
Those fools were just standing there (some of 'em not even reading, just with the books opened on the same page). "Hey, now . I don't want homophobia to be made illegal! I know! I will show my discontent by bringing grandma's recipe book while looking at the "farinata" page for hours on end while standing around at three in the afternoon of July in black clothing. That should do it! 😄"
Needless to say, my parents, instead of seeing the ridiculous situation for what it was, immediately turned it around on me with "how come you looked this stuff up?". I later told Mom that because of the bullying I endured during middle school (verbal abuse was also frequent) I learned how it felt to not be allowed to live among the others or just be respected for stupid or trivial reasons (honestly, what does the town baker Mariangela or the local butcher Fausto care about what goes on in other people's private lives?), and the only thing she had to say about it is that maybe it would have been better if I had acted out against the bullies I had growing up. What the hell?😂
Anyway, thank you to anyone who will read this, and sorry for the long rant. It felt amazing to let it all out of my system. Cheers, everyone!
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2020.09.28 16:55 PhilosopherNeku300 Las Vegas Bootcamp and Immersion Training! ( High chance of getting laid! Win a discount/bonus! Cut your learning curve today!) (Last spots)

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https://preview.redd.it/wfiu358g72q51.png?width=1262&format=png&auto=webp&s=d470f4c8b531baa3a3f952e530c4792e312b599a
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2020.09.25 23:05 tefferhead I am 31 years old, make $107,582, live in Copenhagen, and work in epidemiology

Section One: Assets and Debt
Retirement Balance: Total is around $65700 spread out between my pension from my current job + Roth IRA + ~$4000 in a pension account from a country I lived in prior to moving to Denmark. I know I’m behind with this, the downside of moving often and working as a contractor for three years.
Equity if you're a homeowner: None, I’ve always rented.
Savings account balance: $25,186.28 in a HYSA, $5,164.73 in CDs
Checking account balance: $641 in my US-based checking account (used to pay some US-bills every month) and $13,858 in my Danish checking account.
Credit card debt (and how you accumulated it): None.
Student loan debt (for what degree): $44,365.65 left (down from $125,357.97) from Bachelors and Masters loans. My dad and I split college 50/50 – I had a full scholarship that covered the first year, my dad paid for two years under the condition that I lived in campus housing and maintained above a certain GPA, and I took out a loan for my final year. I'm a first generation college student (only one of my grandparents completed more than 9th grade and neither of my parents went to university) so college was always a non-negotiable for me. I worked about 16-24 hours per week in an on-campus job during undergrad. I went to a state school for undergrad and private school for my Masters – I worked full time during grad school but took out loans to cover the tuition.
Section Two: Income
Income Progression: I've been working in public health/international development for ten years. 2011: My first full time job after undergrad (during my masters) paid $16.50 an hour, and when I left 15 months later, I had gotten a raise of a whopping 49 cents, making my final total $16.99. 2013: I got a research assistant job next, which paid $17.50/hour (full time). While I worked this job, I also had a part time evenings and weekends gig on another community-based research study for another $15/hour, which was my favorite job ever. 2014: I took a leave of absence from the first research assistant job to do an internship for my masters abroad, which was partially paid for by a scholarship from my uni (around ~$3000) and also offered a $700/month stipend. Came back to the US briefly and then in 2015… 2015-2018: …I moved abroad again, this time as a contractor, where I made $45,000 the first year with small increases during my second and third years there. I ended making a little over $49,000 per year my third year. However, this position also included substantial allowances for education, housing, and shipping, for a total package of around $80,000. 2018: I moved to Europe and started a PhD program with a stipend of $35,484 per year. I left that program after a year to take my current job. 2019: The first year I made $100,463 per year, but this year, with my annual raise plus cost of living adjustments, the salary increased to what it is now. My salary fluctuates a little every month, since a portion of my salary is a rental subsidy (around $300) and cost-of-living adjustment, which changes with inflation rates and exchange rates. This also came with a relocation package and shipping allowance. I really love my current job, and although I sometimes get frustrated working within such a bureaucratic system, I look forward to where my future career can take me (both location-wise and career-wise).
Main Job Monthly Take Home: $8,021.59
Side Gig Monthly Take Home: None right now – by contract, I cannot take any outside employment. Any Other Monthly Income Here: None – my husband, F, lost his job a few months ago and right now gets around $3000 pre-tax in Danish dagpenge (a type of unemployment insurance that is privately funded. He paid into this while he was employed, and now can use it for up to three years or until he finds a new job) – but our finances are separate with no real plans to combine them. Rent we split proportional to our income, but most other things we just each chose some bills and pay them, and split groceries and entertainment pretty evenly, but we don’t really keep track and don’t nickel and dime each other.
Section Three: Expenses
Rent: $3256.77 – I pay $2100.99 of this, F pays $1,155.78. My work provides around $300 per month rental subsidy (included in the monthly take home pay). Before F lost his job, I took home twice as much as he did per month, so we felt it was fair to split rent like this.
Renters and property insurance: F pays this once a year (he pays because it’s offered on discount as part of his union fees, and because it covers his very expensive sports equipment)
Retirement contribution: $928.33 from each paycheck. I pay 7.9% of my monthly gross income, my work pays 15.8%, which is really great for someone who started really late with retirement savings. Savings contributions: After I built up my savings to around $50,000, (we bought a car recently so savings are a bit less now) I’ve been putting more towards my loans so I actually have not been intentionally saving anything lately, but usually end up with around $2500 left over at the end of the month.
Investment contribution: $6000 per year to a Roth IRA (I’ve only been doing this the past year). I usually make a transfer once a year from my Danish account to cover this.
Debt payments: My only debt is student loans. I paid off my private loans in 2017 and with 0% interest on the Federal loans, I’ve been channeling as much money towards them as possible the last few months. Since 0% interest began 6 months ago, I’ve paid more than $18,000 to my student loans – my minimum payment pre-covid was only $286 per month, so I paid about 10x the minimum. Until 0% interest ends, I plan on paying most of my paycheck to my loans. I hope to have my loans paid off by this time next year.
Donations: I don’t have any reoccurring donations but make a lot of random donations throughout the year. In August I donated $50 to a friend’s MS fundraiser, a bunch of books to a women’s collective in Copenhagen, and my work has an option during check out of the canteen to “Share the Meal” and add 10% on to your order as a donation to the World Food Programme. I Share the Meal any time I buy anything at work, and usually end up donating around $5-10 per month that way. F and I also volunteer once a month with Danish Refugee Council.
Electric: F pays this
Internet: F pays this. It’s common for Danish workplaces to pay for household internet, so F’s work used to pay, but he assumed this bill after he lost his job because likely his next job will also cover internet.
Cellphone: $27.22/month. It’s a deal through work and is deducted from each paycheck before the monthly amount above.
Subscriptions: $15.77 HBO MAX Nordic (only in the winter months), $13.10 Netflix (I pay and share with my sister and Dad in the US)
Gym membership: $53.08/month for unlimited Power Yoga.
Car payment / insurance: $1,145.18 once a year for car insurance. We bought a new car this year and paid cash for it – one benefit of being a diplomat is tax free vehicles! In Denmark, where car taxes can be up to 180%, this is a huge benefit!
Medicine: $1.99/month
NYT Crossword App: $39.99 per year.
Intro: This is a follow up diary to my last MD, which I wrote just shy of a year ago. A lot has changed since then! The good – F and I eloped in late spring, we bought a car, and I made some friends. The bad – I haven’t seen my family in a year and F lost his amazing and interesting job in early summer in the first round of COVID-related firings at his work. Since then, the mood has been pretty low in our apartment. He’s been unemployed before (a downside to all the moving in development work is that there can be huge gaps in between contracts and jobs) so we don’t know how long this round will last. We know we are so fortunate to be able to still afford our lifestyle, and I know so many people have it way worse, but it still is incredibly difficult to see the one you love feel as though they are worthless when they lose a job.
Day 1 - Saturday: $70.03
8:20am – Wake up early and head to a Power Yoga class that’s a ten minute bike ride from my apartment. I always arrive super early so I can read and stretch before class starts. I’m about 3/4 through Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo and it’s such an interesting book.
10:00am – Out of yoga and head to the bakery to grab some fresh pumpkin seed bread and to the grocery store for small things like avocados and orange juice. We make breakfast (bread and avo with scrambled eggs and spinach and a fruit smoothie) and decide to take a drive to the north cost of Sjælland today. $12.83
12:15 – We get ready for the day and head out. F drives. On the way, we stop at a bakery, each get a pastry, and sit in the sun outside for a bit and read. $7.01
2:00pm – When we are about 20 minutes away, it starts to downpour. We had planned a short hike, but it won’t be fun to walk in the rain and neither of us brought a rain jacket, so we turn around and head home. I browse Instagram and see one of my favorite shops is having a sidewalk sale. My good friend T just moved into a new apartment after a horrible break up and mentioned one time that she loved the mugs there. F drives me there and I scoop up two mugs for her at half price. I’ll give them to her at her housewarming brunch next weekend. $39.83.
3:15pm – F and I eat some leftover pasta from dinner last night and relax on the couch and read for a bit. We light some candles and play a game of backgammon and a few games of Hive and drink some coffee. I secretly love rainy autumn days. We watch an episode of the Sopranos. Neither of us feels much like cooking tonight, so we decide to order pizza from this new place we discovered. The owner is always watching Italian soap operas and the Pope on Sundays, so we know he is legit.
6:15pm – F goes to pick up the pizzas. We end up with tons of leftovers, super convenient since tomorrow will be busy. I get ready to meet my friends out. I try to encourage F to call one of his friends or to see his brother, but he has been extremely down this week and doesn’t want to see anyone. He had a second interview for a job he didn’t end up getting last week, so this week has been especially rough. He is naturally an introvert, but it breaks my heart a bit to see him always at home these days.
8:15pm – I meet my friends out and have just one beer before switching to water. After T’s breakup, her and I made it a point to meet new people and make some friends. Between people from my Danish classes and her colleagues, we found a fun and diverse group of women our age that we’ve been seeing once or twice a week. Tonight, there are four of us from different countries there – Belgium, Poland, Italy, and me. $10.36
09:30pm – It’s last call at the bar. As of last Friday, bars started closing at 10 with masks worn inside unless you’re seated at a table. Denmark made it through the first wave of COVID without imposing masks or too many restrictions, but the past weeks the R value (the number of people one COVID-infected person is assumed to infect) is creeping closer and closer to 1 (under one is good, over one is very bad) which means more restrictions. We chat outside until 11ish when I ride my bike home and F and I chat and read before falling asleep.
Day 2 – Sunday: $96.20
09:30am – A slow start to the morning. Over coffee we chat about taking another mini road trip to Hamburg or Berlin in October if COVID allows us to travel (right now, Germany is on the ok’d list for Denmark). (Note – as of Wednesday, this is no longer possible since Germany does not allow travelers from the capital region in Denmark to travel to Germany).
12:00pm – T meets me at the parking garage and we head to IKEA, chatting about our night last night and plans for the week. I brought T to IKEA a week ago, and we ended up in here for more than four hours, so I really hope this trip turns out to be different.
1:30pm – T and I are on our way home, bags full of glass food containers, bath mats, and other essentials. We drive back into the city, chatting about her ex and how life is infinitely better for her now that she is single. $39.25
2:00pm – At 3, F and I have plans to go see my friend B and her husband, who just bought a house and are expecting a baby in January! I stop by my favorite bakery on the way back to drop T and get a chokolade trekant (a big pastry filled with marzipan and cream and covered in chocolate) to bring with us. $9.89
2:15pm – Back home, and F is back from his bike ride. We agree that he will shower while I run and pick up flowers to bring to B. I run down to the local department store that sells flowers outside. I grab a tiny bouquet of sunflowers and a tiny bouquet of these red flowers (#notabotanist), they’re two for 119DKK, or $18.99.
2:45pm – F and I meet at the car and drive over to B’s, which is in a part of Copenhagen that’s very suburban and a little far away. It is SUCH a nice home. I can see that F is feeling bad again. The morning he lost his job, we were supposed to meet with a housing agent to make an offer on an apartment. I think F still feels a lot of guilt over that happening, but honestly – I think it was for the best. The place we wanted was a little far from the city center and was awfully expensive for being in an area that isn’t so interesting or fun. We chat with B and her husband about work, life, buying a place, B’s pregnancy, and more. B is a friend from Danish class – she is German, but also married to a Dane. It goes really well getting the husbands and us together, and we agree that we have to do this again really soon.
4:30 – Leave B’s house and drive to a nearby grocery store. They’re having a sale on beer and candy (only in Denmark), so we pick up a few different kinds of both. I buy all the stuff I need to meal prep lunches for the week and dinner tonight. F pays for the beer and the fun stuff, I pay for the healthy groceries. $28.07
6:15 – While F makes dinner (pasta with peas in a lemon mascarpone sauce with a side salad), I make lunch for the week – a quinoa/red peppechickpea/tomato/cucumbered onion/parsley salad with a jalapeno lemon dressing. I portion them into my new glass containers and feel accomplished.
8:15 – After dinner, we start the movie Leviathan, a Russian movie that got very good reviews. I find the beginning tough to follow but it gets really good towards the middle. Around 9:45 we turn the movie off (it’s a long one) and will finish it this week at some point. We get ready for bed and read. Sleep somewhere around 11.
Day 3 – Monday: $5.28
06:30: Up showered dressed makeup. Doing six months of Accutane in my early 30s is the best thing I ever did for myself. My makeup routine now is just a light dust of Neutrogena powder foundation, Becca rose gold highlighter, Eyeko liquid liner, Benefit mascara. Takes two second.
07:00 – Can’t find my bike key, eat two pieces of toast with Lotus spread. I grab my mask and head to the train. Read a few pages of the book on the way.
07:45 – Arrive at work. The office has thinned out considerably since the Prime Minister’s last press conference where she encouraged everyone to work from home. Surprisingly, my work’s response has been super vague on this. Since I work for a multilateral, we don’t really fall under Danish public authority, so I guess my work thinks it can do what they want. Still, my boss, N, makes me choose two days a week I want to work from home. I pick Tuesdays and Thursdays.
08:30 – Work day passes relatively quickly due to meetings. I meet with N, who is more like an older brother than a boss to me some days, and we chat about his upcoming trip to see his fiancé who lives in another country and who he hasn’t seen since before COVID. He leaves Wednesday for more than 3 weeks. I’ll assume his role for the weeks he is gone, attending his meetings and responding to requests directly from our director.
12:00 – I grab my book and head out in the sun to read with my salad lunch. After reaching the last chapter, I open the NYT crossword puzzle app. This Monday is tougher than usual, but I finish – 17 Mondays in a row!
1:20 – Rest of the day passes quickly. N clues me in on everything he has been working on and ensures me he will be available even though he is on leave. I’m not really stressed at all, N is chronically stressed so he thinks everyone else is.
3:00 – Listening in on a huge virtual meeting while doing admin work I’ve been putting off for weeks due to preparation for this big meeting, where all our partners come together (virtually this year) to make some big decisions for programs and budgets in the upcoming year.
5:15 – I text with my mother-in-law, MIL, who I meet with once a week to have an informal Danish lesson. It’s been helpful to have these lessons, not just to improve my Danish but also to foster a good relationship with her independently of F. We get along really well and I really look forward to these lessons. I leave work and train home, carrying a computer screen for tomorrow’s first day of work from home. I run into F, who is on his way to the grocery store and sees how much I’m struggling with my screen. He takes the screen from me and walks it home and goes back out for groceries.
06:15 – F was planning on making quiche but forgot spinach. I run to the grocery store to pick it up along with some cottage cheese, and by the time I get back, F and MIL are together in the kitchen. I get the quiche ready for the oven, stick it in, and MIL and I sit down at the table to snakker Dansk. $5.28
7:30 – MIL and I talk in mixed Danglish while drinking some IPAs we bought yesterday until F takes the quiche out and we eat. Shortly after, we talk a bit more, and F drives MIL home so he can see his dad and their puppy.
08:00 – I clean up from dinner and read the rest of Girl, Woman, Other. I find it annoying that you can’t give half stars on Good Reads. I liked this book better than a 4 but very few books deserve a five. I give it a five anyway and think of looking at the next book but decide to video chat my sister instead.
10:00 – F gets home and into bed and we chat for a bit, he starts to read, but I fall asleep almost immediately.
Day 4: Tuesday - $33.19
06:30 – Wake up, morning routine, today is a work from home day. I cycle to a yoga studio (F found my bike key… in the coat I wore on Saturday!) and take a 7am vinyasa class with a hilarious instructor.
08:45 – Phone call with our program assistant, M. We end up talking about her husband’s 60th birthday before eventually landing on business. F heads out on a bike ride.
09:30 – A colleague texts me and asks if I could join a call she is having with colleagues in our Montenegro office at 10. She sends me three documents and I briefly glance at them before the call starts. Afterwards, I end up with a lot more work. Spur of the moment invitations that end with me having a lot more work seem to happen often, and I wonder if maybe I’m too agreeable at work.
12:00 – Do some admin work and answer emails, then have a quick lunch of the quinoa salad while reading. I pick up Where the Crawdads Sing, which I bought only a week ago even though I’ve seen it everywhere for months (years?).
2:00 – I have another meeting with my counterpart at our HQ office. He’s a nice guy so we end up chatting about life for a bit first. Last year, I was in Geneva about once a quarter, so this is the longest I’ve gone without seeing my friend and without Swiss chocolate.
4:00 – I knock off work early since it’s so nice out. F and I decide to take a long walk to a grocery store that’s in another neighborhood. We grab the stuff we need and an ice cream to eat while we walk home. $22.34
5:45 – On the way back, we pass my favorite cute store. I stop in and buy a fancy leather bookmark because despite reading so often, I’ve been using a crumpled paper bookmark I got for free at a bookstore in Stockholm for more than a year. $10.85
6:00 – F cooks while I lay in the hammock on the terrace and read. This book is already really good and I’m only on the third chapter. We eat dinner (broccoli fritters in a wrap with hummus, spinach, tomato, pepper, and lots of hot sauce) and play Rummy outside. September nights like this make me totally forget that in two months it’ll be pitch black at 4 pm.
9:00 – I clean the kitchen and do the NYT crossword. Today’s theme is Black Panther. It’s tough but I finish! Two day streak! F’s nephew is turning 7 on Friday, so I text his sister in law and ask what we can bring. She suggests ice cream and chocolate – easy enough! Night time routine (Omorovicza products are seriously my vice) and hop into bed and read.
11:30 – My phone pings with an urgent request from our director at work regarding some talking points for her for a meeting tomorrow. Luckily, I’m still awake reading (I’m more than halfway done with Crawdads) and put something together quickly for her, send it off, and head to bed.
Day 5: Wednesday - $83.67
06:30 – Wake up, shower, breakfast. I quickly email my colleagues in Montenegro some information for our follow up call this morning. Since we’re meeting at 8, I decide to take the call from home then head to the office.
09:30 – Call is over so I get on my bike, beautiful weather again. On the way, I stop by the dry cleaners and drop off a few things. The price shocks me ($40.93 for two pairs of pants and a dress), but since they only take cash and I have no cash on me, I decide to pay when I pick them up on Monday.
10:15 – I arrive at work and on my desk is a parking ticket from when we visited a national park in July. Since my car was purchased using diplomatic privileges, any mail relating to the car is sent to my office, including parking tickets, I guess. OOPS. Apparently authorities took a picture of our license plates and only billed us now. $26.74
11:45 - Run down to the mailroom and mail the last three of our wedding thank yous. Even though we eloped, so many people have been so kind sending gifts that have been long delayed by COVID post times so it seems like our wedding is never ending! $14.17
1:30 – On the way back to my desk, I pick up an iced coffee from the café. A call with colleagues in Ukraine leads to a pretty big assignment with a quick turnaround time. I really enjoy doing work with different country offices though, so it doesn’t bother me at all. I send a quick summary of action items from the call and get to work. ($2.36+$0.25 share the meal donation).
2:00 – Last week, a student wanting to work in public health reached out via LinkedIn for some career advice. I invited her to the office to have a coffee and chat. Turns out she doesn’t drink coffee, but I grab another one and we chat in the café anyway. My imposter syndrome is getting the best of me and I feel like I’m not experienced enough to be giving career advice, but at the same time wish that I had the foresight to do stuff like this when I was a student. ($2.36+$0.25 share the meal donation)
4:00 – I head out of the office and cycle home. The weather is so beautiful and I never want it to end. F meets me at the park and we lay out on a blanket and read for an hour. I’m flying through Crawdads.
5:00 – I stop by Sephora and pick up a new mascara on the way home. For dinner, we roast some vegetables and toss them with some chickpea pasta with a side of maple balsamic brussels sprouts. We eat on the terrace. $37.54
6:15 – Tonight is a two class yoga night, power flow then yin. Home around 8:45, quick shower, and in bed to finish Crawdads. I give it five stars on Goodreads and go down the rabbit hole of negative reviews of the book. Valid criticisms, but I still liked it!
Day 6: Thursday - $0
7:00 – Up later than usual since I work from home today. Start a load of laundry and make an almond milk latte. Email a consultant about some lingering things. Thursdays are my longest day and I start my new level of Danish class this evening. Eat a slice of banana bread that I defrosted last night (love finding secret baked goods in the freezer)!
8:30 – Make a massive bowl of zucchini oats with cinnamon and homemade applesauce stirred in. Eat breakfast, respond to emails work.
10:00 – Work on the Ukraine project from yesterday. Takes the better part of the morning and I’m still not done. I want to finish this by the end of the day since I like having relaxed Fridays.
12:00 – Have a quick lunch and then head out for a doctors appointment at 1. I’ve recently been having some side effects from a medication I take (like inability to focus, difficulty sleeping, constantly hungry). I visit the doctor and she confirms that there’s something very wrong with my thyroid, and she suggests I take a sick leave from work and tells me to get blood drawn every other week so they can monitor my thyroid hormones. I don’t think a sick leave is necessary right now, but I think I’ll talk to my boss N about it when he gets back from holiday. The doctor told me I should take it really easy and work from home if I can’t take a sick leave, so I might do that.
2:30 – Feeling a bit off since that appointment, I ride home through a neighborhood with a lot of independent shops and browse but buy nothing. I go home and chat with F about the appointment. He is really good about making me feel better.
4:00 – I send off my work to Ukraine and hope for the best.
5:30 – Eat a quick dinner and head out to Danish class.
6:30 – I see my friend from the last course, A, and take a seat near her. The class is more than 3 hours long, and once you get to the B2 level, most people are relatively confident in their speaking. I feel very confident in reading and writing, but speaking is so difficult and I get self-conscious. The new teacher is okay – I liked the last one more. I text my MIL about the new Danish teacher.
9:45 – Class is over. On the way out I chat with two women in the class who suggest we get drinks together soon. I love that idea! More new friends!
10:00 – I’m home and in my apartment and make some quinoa to take to work tomorrow with leftover veggies from the week. F is out on a run. I skype with my childhood friend in Seattle, I haven’t seen him in more than five years so we work out a time when we could potentially visit our hometown at the same time. We think it might happen in March (COVID permitting).
12:00 – Eventually fall asleep after F gets home. He’s been in a much better mood today!
Day 7: Friday - $0
7:30 – Oof, woke up super late. Three ingredient banana pancakes to the rescue along with some homemade applesauce I made the other day. It’s downpouring so F suggests I drive to work. I guess the nice weather is over.
9:00 – I get into work, take my coat off, and the fire alarm rings telling everyone to evacuate. I put my coat back on, pack up my things, take my car key and head to the parking garage to leave for the day. There are fire engines outside of the building, so this won’t be a short wait outside in the cold, wet, Copenhagen autumn rain.
9:30 – Back at home and have a few phone calls. I only have two big tasks today, but my attention span has been really bad lately (which I found out is a symptom of hyperthyroidism, so it’s all starting to make sense!). All I have to do is listen to a Teams meeting (not even talk… just be there), write up a short analysis of a proposal that was sent to us, and put together some slides for a keynote address to be given by someone higher in the pecking order than me.
12:00 – Break for lunch, having done not much but listen to the meeting and open a PowerPoint and Word file. This afternoon won’t be fun.
1:30 – Power through the rest of the day. Create a few slides, write what I need to write, send it off, chat on WhatsApp with my boss, talk with our program assistant on the phone, and before I know it it’s after 5 and F is telling me we have to go (the Danes are nothing if not punctual, and if the dinner starts at 5:30 then we are late if we aren’t there at 5:30 exactly).
5:40 – Arrive at brother-in-law and SIL’s place, they live in this super posh penthouse on the water. SIL’s parents are there, and her mom has always been really nice to me. SIL’s parents give us some nice wine as a wedding gift – we haven’t seen them in almost a year!
10:00 – The night passes quickly because it’s so enjoyable. I always get very nervous to go to these all-Danish gatherings, but they always turn out fine and tonight I even felt a connection with F’s four-year-old niece (I guess my Danish is equivalent to four-year-old Danish). She seems to really like me and it makes my heart grow ten sizes. We take the metro home and end the night chatting in bed. It’s been a good week.
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Weekly Total: $288.37
Food + Drink: $101.00
Fun / Entertainment: $0 (although a lot of the food/drink I put under entertainment in my personal budget, but the way this template classifies fun/entertainment it’s not)
Home + Health: $39.25
Clothes + Beauty: $37.54
Transport: $26.74
Other: $83.84
Lastly, reflect on your diary! This was a pretty normal week for me. We usually cook at home and I normally bring lunch but am definitely guilty of buying coffee at work. I don’t go out so much during the week (mostly because my weeks have just been so busy lately) but on the weekends I love a good drink or dinner out. I would love to have my loans paid off by this time next year and if I try a bit harder than I have been, it’s a definitely possibility. I have to say I don’t even mind spending on fun/entertainment lately since a big priority of mine is to have and make friends, and a big part of that is having dinner a drinks out so I am 100% okay with spending on that right now. Maybe next year it will be different 😊
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2020.09.18 18:53 Meda18Sepl G-ay Cow-boy S-ex Tumblr

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2020.09.11 04:31 Bend-Low Is there supposed to be guilt or am I a bad person?

So before you judge me by the title, here's a little about my situation. I(m,34) have been married to my wife(31) for 13 years now, we have 3 kids, the oldest being 12. Been in an off again on again DB for about 9 years, around the time my wife had an online affair for about month while I was deployed, which I have completley forgiven, I think. Last year she met a guy about 10 years older through a youth program our kids are in (even though recent comments have totally turned her off of this guy now). At the beginning of last summer she asked me if she was ever in a situation where she didn't want to stop if she could step out on me. After weeks of thinking on that I had agreed. This ignited our bedroom for a couple weeks but again faded. Earlier this year, before all the travel restrictions, she went home to see her parents. While she was there she saw her ex, no they didn't do anything, he's a landscaper that works on her parents yard, but they did do some talking. When she got home she was revved up a little, even calling out his name while I used her toy on her and she handled me. But that too faded quickly back into the db we've been used to. I travel a lot for work, but never have been unfaithful. We used to exchange dirty messages and pictures, and Skype when we could, but the last several years have been a no-go for that too.
Where the title plays into this. I've been traveling the last month, away from home a school needed for my job and then recently moved overseas and will be here for the next year, alone. Between my school and my flight overseas I had a couple days in a new city I'd never been in. I jumped in reddit for the first time and ended up in an r4r room. I messaged a couple of girls there, not expecting much just messing around, bored with nothing to do and no car. Well one of them responded to me. It was a shock to me to say the least. Long story short, she came over and gave me a bj, that's all she wanted. Before she had come over though I was nervous, my heart was pounding and I was feeling physically hot, but afterwards, nothing. No overwhelming guilt, no "what did I just do". Nothing, basically utter indifference.
Is this normal? Is the guilt just waiting to take me by surprise? I love my wife immensely but the intimacy has just been lacking and wanted to be touched by someone who wanted to touch me. Anyone who has experience in this area would love to hear your take or advice. Please don't judge me too hard.
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2020.09.10 22:43 yungbutteredrice TW: sexual abuse. My parents didn't protect me.

Growing up, my family were nudists. I should preface this with the fact that I don't regret that part in general, because it gave me more realistic expectations of what bodies look like, instead of seeing magazine covers and feeling like crap about myself. However, when the resort my family went to stopped doing as many family activities, more and more swingers came and would flirt with each other in front of the few kids left. But this story isn't really about the swingers, it's about how my parents made friends with the wrong man and then they didn't protect me when I was showing signs of sexual abuse.
On the report, my parents befriended a man who was single, early 40's, and charismatic. They knew he loved kids, but thought he just never found the right woman to settle down with. That in itself isn't too odd, as there was another man with that exact same story who eventually did settle down and had a kid. The difference between these two men is, while the one who did settle down eventually would hang out with my parents and then also treat me like a niece, the pedo man seemed more like he wanted to hang out with me and my parents were just people he had to be nice to.
There were many red flags. He always wanted to touch me, wanted me to sit on his shoulders like how my dad sometimes carried me, except I was getting too old for that. I would sit so that I balanced myself on my legs, but he would forcibly pull me down so that my privates were snug against the back of his neck. I stopped allowing him to carry me after he did that, and even now when my late boyfriend tried to carry me like that when horsing around, I had a panic attack. My current boyfriend wants to carry me like that sometimes, but understands why I don't want to be picked up like that.
Pedo man would pull me into his lap often, when I was just trying to walk around doing my own thing as an 8 year old does. He would make weird comments to me, like "oh yeah I was super cute when I was younger, I had a full head of hair and dressed like a skater" and such. At one point, when I was 7 years old, he gave me a sensual massage which ended with him touching me, right in the same room as my parents who were both turned away fr us watching a movie. I got up and went to the bathroom and came back and said I was done with the massage when he asked if I wanted to continue. He would always find excuses to touch me, one of his favorite things to do was poke me when I obviously didn't want him do, but when I complained my parents would chastise me. So eventually I told him that every poke would cost him a dollar. I routinely left weekends when we saw him at the resort with $100-200.
I would act "hot and cold to him" as my mother described. Because after he had touched me during the massage, I had completely tried to ignore him when I saw him next, and just stay away from him, and my parents and him noticed. He pulled me aside and said "I want you to know that I would never ever touch you, okay?" So I realized I had to at least try sometimes to be nice to him. So I tried to be the most annoying, misbehaved child that I could think of, so that maybe he would get tired of me and leave me alone. I was 8 when I started that. That stuck with me for many years and it wasn't until I was 12 or 13 that I finally got over it and stopped being annoying on purpose.
One of the worst things he did, which my mother should have realized was weird, was take photos of me. This one time, after we had hiked off the resort to a waterfall near by, he started taking photos of me climbing on the rocks. A lot of photos. I became very uncomfortable after about 5 minutes, and started to tell him to stop. That I didn't want photos taken of me. He kept taking photos, the whole time - "what's click wrong? Click I'm click not click hurting click you, you'll click want click to click see click these click photos click when click" you're older *click and see click how you've click grown. click" I started crying, telling him to stop taking pictures of me, and he kept taking photos of me crying. My mom was there, and she started telling me that it was no big deal and to just let him take these photos of me. I eventually started "having a temper tantrum" and my mom said to pedo man that she was sorry and didn't know what was wrong with me, but that maybe it was best to stop. When she said this, he finally did stop.
Another time, one when he was at our house for a weekend, I was sitting between him and my mom on the couch. He started trying to roughhouse, and grabbed onto my pants. I started having an anxiety attack, at the age of about 8 or maybe 9, and telling him to let go, screaming at him to let go of my pants. I freaked out so much that I ended up wiggling out of the pants and onto the floor, having another "temper tantrum" and cried for a few hours. He sat there the whole time, still holding onto my pants the whole time I wiggled out of them, smiling slightly. My mom just looked confused, again apologizing for my actions. But never questioning why a grown man wouldn't let go of me when I first told him to.
There was a time when, at an amusement park on the beach, he took me there alone and we were waiting in line getting our tickets. There was a toddler girl in front of us, wearing only bottoms. He turned to me and said "see? You can go topless too!" When I was about 10, nearing puberty, much too old to go topless in my country on public property.
There are so many more stories, but I'll end it with this one as this is very lengthy. When I was 12, I decided to get my own Skype so I could talk to my best friend who lived across town. Pedo man really wanted my Skype, and I kept telling him no, he begged me on the phone for my Skype. He already had my dad's Skype, so he really didn't need mine if he wanted to chat with me. My parents kept asking me why I didn't want him to have my Skype, I told them I just didn't. He apparently hounded them for it, to the point they just gave it to him, and when I saw the friend request I had another "temper tantrum" as my parents liked to call my mental breakdowns. I was sobbing, telling them I didn't want him to have my Skype. They could not understand why. They didn't think it was weird that a completely grown man wanted to talk to their child so much. My older brother, who wasn't around much, knew something was up and said to me that I had to tell our parents what had happened. I think he knew, but he also knew he couldn't do anything about it because what our dad said was law in that house. I eventually told them.
They asked why I didn't say anything sooner, and honestly it was because I had told on a older boy in elementary school trying to force me and another boy to do sexual things, and flashing us his genitals during nap time (it was an after school and summer time daycare with too few caretakers), and a man in a suit with a briefcase came to talk to us, but didn't seperate the children so that kid had just bullied everyone except for me, as far as I'm aware, to lie for him since nothing ever happened. From then on I was labeled a liar by the caretakers, even accused of it in court many years later when testifying for my best friend after her father raped her. I told my parents that I didn't think they would believe me or listen to me.
Sadly, my parents also sexualized me and treated me like an adult in many instances where they should have treated me like a child. My dad did it the worst, but my mom had her moments as well. But that's a story for another day I suppose.
Thank you to anybody who read this far. I was actually thinking of making a youtube video where I explain what signs to look out for, in case an adult is trying to groom a child. I was groomed myself, with the constant gifts of money and items from pedo man, and I feel the need to make up for not reporting him sooner, as nothing ever happened to him because I waited too long. Other girls, who looked like me, were groomed by him as well. I saw a video on youtube he posted, where he was with a few young, thin, blonde girls. That guilt will forever stay with me. It's my fault that he is allowed to keep doing this. I should have spoken up sooner.
submitted by yungbutteredrice to offmychest [link] [comments]


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2020.09.02 03:11 MamaRusa The Man I Am Still In Love With’s Biggest Flex Is That 15 Years Later He Admits He Was Just Using Me.... It Was A Long Con

Yup. I met this guy when I was 13 and he was 15 at the time, we can call him T. (Currently 28F & 30M). We both grew up in church together. I can’t ever forget. The very first time I knew we liked each other. We went to a teens church retreat camping trip one weekend and I remember trying to nap on the couch but not fully asleep yet. And I felt his presence on my face. He was checking to see if I was asleep, which at that moment I didn’t know what to do I remember just thinking to myself to keep my eyes shut and if he kisses me I will die right here right now. I felt all warm inside and happy and I knew I wanted him and the rest was history.
We started off as friends. Close friends. Hanging out together with church friends, going to the park and playing sports together, hanging out at the park sometimes alone. Then very close friends. When we used to make out and touch each other..a lot. But never to the point of sex because I wanted to be his. Officially. I loved our adventures and our talks about life and the world and stupid shit too. At 14 & him 16, I wanted to be his girlfriend. I was ready. But I wanted the commitment. I wanted to be his in every way. I mean obviously we were young at the time but it was very important to me. I had a certain set of values that I wanted to uphold. A lot of them based off how I was raised and my beliefs. He said he wasn’t ready for a relationship...I was heartbroken for a while and then I moved on to another guy that I worked with.
I had lost my virginity with him, and things were great. We were together for 2 years. But towards the 2nd year, I started to cheat on him to be with T. T was there for me because he cared about me and wanted to make sure I was good. He made it known that we are good together, we just mesh. That spark. He knew me in ways that my ex didn’t at the time. That ex was not only cheating on me with 3 other girls, he also faked that he had a baby with one of them, for no other reason that he is still a cruel person till this day. I was devastated. But T comforted me, and again I fell for him, this time I was 15/16 and he was 17/18. T had gotten into a bad car accident during the time I was with my ex. I remember feeling very bad about that because I felt like I failed in not being there for him. He went through a lot.. I found out through church friends. I felt guilty for a while. But we reconnected after he got better and we were THE BEST of friends. We were inseparable at that point and did everything together. Oh if I could go back to any of those blissful carefree summers as a teen in the city with just him, some money, and my metrocard...I remember the first time we had sex. It was fucking unimaginable. I knew right then and there that I HAD to be with this guy. Like there’s no way. He checked out in every way. We mentioned to each other that we really wanted to be each other’s firsts.. but glad that we were together when we were. We were really good friends, we meshed so well together as far as our personalities and values, he is tall, hot and funny, and the sex was amazing. He is very smart and a boss and so am I. He was naturally a grounded person,(Taurus), which I was highly attracted to because he would help keep me grounded. I am also a grounded person as well as I was founded with that mentality, and my rising sign is Taurus. As an Aquarian, we tend to be in the air a lot of the time and very sociable, approachable, and fun. His comfort, humbleness, warmth, and kindness was my daily cup of coffee. Exactly what the doctor ordered. He was my home. He was everything I wanted in a boyfriend and more. But again, he said he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship even though we were basically a couple... and again, I was heartbroken.
Not for very long because then I got with someone else. Whom we started off as friends, and it was great. And then we became something more. We ended up going away for college 5 hours away with 2 other friends that were part of my friend group and we were in different schools but just 45 minutes away from each other so I would see him most weekends. But I didn’t want to be with him because he was wayyy too pussy for me. I just couldn’t be with someone that didn’t have a backbone. I was raised to be independent. I found it very unattractive. Eventually he ended up breaking up with me because someone posted a pic on FB of me dancing with a random guy and accused me of cheating lol. This was a big deal though at 17/18. I was JUST dancing. It was very minor but whatever. I didn’t really want to be with him anyways. He broke up with me and I was 18/19 at the time.
And then T and I reconnected again... and I fell for him again. Since I was still in school upstate our relationship was long distance. We Skyped almost every night and would always sext and talk about how much we missed each other. He visited me only once. I figured it’s because he didn’t want to upset his parents on his whereabouts. I believe he was only in one other relationship that ended after we reconnected that time. According to him it only lasted a couple of months. I’m sure he was dating. But he always comes on to me as a one woman kind of man. And I wanted to be his one and only. We were still young and coming from a Christian background it was always so hard for my mom to let me out of the house. That was the main reason why I decided to go away for school. I was always sneaking around. For the most part I was traveling back home to see him and my family. It was always an adventure. He would sneak me into bars, we would hang out at parks and all over the city. Go out to eat, to the movies. Just us. It was pure bliss. He was 20/21, I was 18/19 at the time. Everything was great. But he ended up breaking up with me again, just a little after my 21st birthday. I was so devastated. I was very hurt. Very very hurt. I had moved back home not only for him, but also because I couldn’t afford the tuition to finish my last year. I knew at that point there had to be something more than him just not being ready to be in a relationship with me. I didn’t know what it was. He was always so closed off he never really opened up to me as much as I wanted him to, (again, Taurus). Because he wouldn’t open up to me, I was always seeking reassurance from him. I just knew that I was in love with him and basically had to force myself to give up on him. And I did for a while. We still kept in contact as I remember still going out and hanging out with him in my early 20’s when I was old enough to get into the bars. I moved out of my mothers and was living with roommates, so that gave us more of a chance to be together. I could be alone in a room with him for hours and it feels like time stands still. We would be together almost every day. Whether it’s going out to a bar, out to eat, to the movies, the park, the world was endless. Time was endless... So I didn’t understand what he was talking about. Eventually he told me that it’s because he didn’t think I was pretty enough to be formally introduced to his family and friends as his girlfriend. I wanted to die. Literally. I was so embarrassed. Humiliated. I couldn’t believe he said that to me. I didn’t talk to him after that. We left off at me punching walls and him telling me I needed help..
At 23 I met my ex fiancé. This relationship was the relationship that solidified the fact that I really am meant to be with T. When I was with my ex fiancé everything was great. I was in love, I found someone that wanted to be with me and didn’t care to show me off to the world and thought I was his muse as he was mine. That’s all I wanted from someone else. That’s all I wanted from T. And I got that from him. So when he proposed I said yes. And I was happy. We were living together, had a dog together, were working on our goals individually and as a couple. But my ex fiancé was possessive and very jealous and didn’t let me do anything other than being with him all the time. At the time I was working and going to school full time. I couldn’t even celebrate my promotion when my managers took me out for drinks without my ex fiancé storming in coming to pick me up as if I am doing something wrong.. I couldn’t handle that. I needed my space. The more he smothered me with his jealous, possessive ways, the more distant and unattracted I was to him.
In the 2nd year in the relationship, I started cheating on my ex fiancé to be with T. Again. He came back into my life after him being in a committed but LDR. That lasted probably about 2 years. I couldn’t help it. Even though I was still in love with my ex fiancé, I still loved him. Deep down I still wanted to be with him and like come on. That’s my baybeeeee. I was wayyy more confident in myself at this time, but I started to lose my confidence with my ex fiancé. With T, it’s like I’m home. He brought out the good parts of me. He apologized for what he had said in the past. We had already grown up a lot at this point. I accepted it and We left it at that. I wanted to be with him but I had to decide if it was worth it. I was truly hurt by what T said to me. But I really loved him. I couldn’t shake the feeling. I couldn’t help it. I was in love with 2 people at the same time. I was at a stand still. Eventually, when I chose T, and left my ex fiancé for good, it was already too late. T had broken my heart by getting with someone else, I found out about it. This was during a time where my ex fiancé and I were living together but broken up, AND for that entire year while we were waiting for the lease to finish, he was with someone else, and me? I was with T. The relationship had died. Me being me though, I loved them both. When T got with someone else we went our separate ways again. I was 25 already. He was 27. He said he couldn’t take me seriously as I was broken up but living together with someone..smh
25-26ish was interesting. I was dating this guy that we reconnected from college days. It was fun and everything was great but AGAIN, I ended up with someone who wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. Soo I ended things after about a year and a half.
And again. You guessed it. T and I reconnected again. At this time, T was very depressed and anxious. Being 29 with no job still living with your parents must be really rough. Not knowing how to go about doing what you want to do. He wanted me to be there for him. To comfort him. And I did. Because I loved him. I stopped talking to that other guy 2 months prior to T apologizing to me. I had a pregnancy scare, had to get an abortion. It was T’s. I did it not only because I knew we weren’t ready yet, also because I wanted to make sure I had finished school and had my own place with T. He was there for me and supportive through it all. Our relationship was great. I couldn’t wait to move out together with him. We would always talk about the future and how it would be like with us. Our little bubble was perfect. But other aspects were not. Outside of us he was struggling with who he wanted to become. He wanted to be able to provide and it was so hard for him to find a way to get to the right path to start his career. So he started pushing me away. One day, I tripped. Mentally. And that was it. Because I too, was dealing with family problems outside of us. He started pushing me away after that. He started seeking therapy and he was diagnosed with anxiety. And then he broke up with me. And that was last year in September. Since then I have been trying so hard to get back with him. I took time off to seek therapy which is something that I did do before but I stopped going. This time I wanted to make sure that I stuck to it and I have been ever since. I am a completely different person because of it and have grown to understand that sometimes you don’t have all of the answers. But all you can offer is love. But love also can only get you so far. That we should also love with all we got and tell people you love them like it’s your last day. But with T, he got into a relationship about 4 months after he broke up with me. And he’s been with her since.
Here comes the hard pill. The flex. He said that I never had him and I never will. He never loved me. He was using me and manipulating my emotions to feed his own ego and his own selfish desires. Deep down inside he knew he was using me. He knew he was never going to be able to be the person that I wanted him to be, which is my boyfriend. He knew he was doing harm and wasn’t fair to me so he had to leave. The only satisfying thing was the sex. He never considered us a couple or ever being together. In his mind he was never my boyfriend. He never really cared as long as I was available when it was convenient for him. He doesn’t feel like I would fit into his family. He AGAIN, dosent think that opinion will ever change. And he dosent want to even tell me why. He also thinks I’m a stalker.
So why do I still want to be with him and still have so much hope and faith that he will come back to me? Currently at 28 & 30? Because T is biased, he is basically in the same relationship that I was with my ex fiancé. I learned a lot in that relationship. He has never had a relationship like that. This is the full on learning relationship for him. He will realize one day what he lost. All I ever wanted was to be with him in every way. That’s never going to change for me..And I will keep working on myself until then. I can’t shake this feeling. I am going with my heart. I am still young, and life changes every second of the day. I am very much hurt. But I know this isn’t the end. I know one day he will change his mind about me...Long live star crossed lovers. Forever? Forever.
submitted by MamaRusa to heartbreak [link] [comments]


2020.09.01 22:08 MamaRusa The Man I Am Still In Love With’s Biggest Flex Is That 15 Years Later He Admits He Was Just Using Me.... It Was A Long Con

Yup. I met this guy when I was 13 and he was 15 at the time, we can call him T. (Currently 28F & 30M). We both grew up in church together. I can’t ever forget. The very first time I knew we liked each other. We went to a teens church retreat camping trip one weekend and I remember trying to nap on the couch but not fully asleep yet. And I felt his presence on my face. He was checking to see if I was asleep, which at that moment I didn’t know what to do I remember just thinking to myself to keep my eyes shut and if he kisses me I will die right here right now. I felt all warm inside and happy and I knew I wanted him and the rest was history.
We started off as friends. Close friends. Hanging out together with church friends, going to the park and playing sports together, hanging out at the park sometimes alone. Then very close friends. When we used to make out and touch each other..a lot. But never to the point of sex because I wanted to be his. Officially. I loved our adventures and our talks about life and the world and stupid shit too. At 14 & him 16, I wanted to be his girlfriend. I was ready. But I wanted the commitment. I wanted to be his in every way. I mean obviously we were young at the time but it was very important to me. I had a certain set of values that I wanted to uphold. A lot of them based off how I was raised and my beliefs. He said he wasn’t ready for a relationship...I was heartbroken for a while and then I moved on to another guy that I worked with.
I had lost my virginity with him, and things were great. We were together for 2 years. But towards the 2nd year, I started to cheat on him to be with T. T was there for me because he cared about me and wanted to make sure I was good. He made it known that we are good together, we just mesh. That spark. He knew me in ways that my ex didn’t at the time. That ex was not only cheating on me with 3 other girls, he also faked that he had a baby with one of them, for no other reason that he is still a cruel person till this day. I was devastated. But T comforted me, and again I fell for him, this time I was 15/16 and he was 17/18. T had gotten into a bad car accident during the time I was with my ex. I remember feeling very bad about that because I felt like I failed in not being there for him. He went through a lot.. I found out through church friends. I felt guilty for a while. But we reconnected after he got better and we were THE BEST of friends. We were inseparable at that point and did everything together. Oh if I could go back to any of those blissful carefree summers as a teen in the city with just him, some money, and my metrocard...I remember the first time we had sex. It was fucking unimaginable. I knew right then and there that I HAD to be with this guy. Like there’s no way. He checked out in every way. We mentioned to each other that we really wanted to be each other’s firsts.. but glad that we were together when we were. We were really good friends, we meshed so well together as far as our personalities and values, he is tall, hot and funny, and the sex was amazing. He is very smart and a boss and so am I. He was naturally a grounded person,(Taurus), which I was highly attracted to because he would help keep me grounded. I am also a grounded person as well as I was founded with that mentality, and my rising sign is Taurus. As an Aquarian, we tend to be in the air a lot of the time and very sociable, approachable, and fun. His comfort, humbleness, warmth, and kindness was my daily cup of coffee. Exactly what the doctor ordered. He was my home. He was everything I wanted in a boyfriend and more. But again, he said he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship even though we were basically a couple... and again, I was heartbroken.
Not for very long because then I got with someone else. Whom we started off as friends, and it was great. And then we became something more. We ended up going away for college 5 hours away with 2 other friends that were part of my friend group and we were in different schools but just 45 minutes away from each other so I would see him most weekends. But I didn’t want to be with him because he was wayyy too pussy for me. I just couldn’t be with someone that didn’t have a backbone. I was raised to be independent. I found it very unattractive. Eventually he ended up breaking up with me because someone posted a pic on FB of me dancing with a random guy and accused me of cheating lol. This was a big deal though at 17/18. I was JUST dancing. It was very minor but whatever. I didn’t really want to be with him anyways. He broke up with me and I was 18/19 at the time.
And then T and I reconnected again... and I fell for him again. Since I was still in school upstate our relationship was long distance. We Skyped almost every night and would always sext and talk about how much we missed each other. He visited me only once. I figured it’s because he didn’t want to upset his parents on his whereabouts. I believe he was only in one other relationship that ended after we reconnected that time. According to him it only lasted a couple of months. I’m sure he was dating. But he always comes on to me as a one woman kind of man. And I wanted to be his one and only. We were still young and coming from a Christian background it was always so hard for my mom to let me out of the house. That was the main reason why I decided to go away for school. I was always sneaking around. For the most part I was traveling back home to see him and my family. It was always an adventure. He would sneak me into bars, we would hang out at parks and all over the city. Go out to eat, to the movies. Just us. It was pure bliss. He was 20/21, I was 18/19 at the time. Everything was great. But he ended up breaking up with me again, just a little after my 21st birthday. I was so devastated. I was very hurt. Very very hurt. I had moved back home not only for him, but also because I couldn’t afford the tuition to finish my last year. I knew at that point there had to be something more than him just not being ready to be in a relationship with me. I didn’t know what it was. He was always so closed off he never really opened up to me as much as I wanted him to, (again, Taurus). Because he wouldn’t open up to me, I was always seeking reassurance from him. I just knew that I was in love with him and basically had to force myself to give up on him. And I did for a while. We still kept in contact as I remember still going out and hanging out with him in my early 20’s when I was old enough to get into the bars. I moved out of my mothers and was living with roommates, so that gave us more of a chance to be together. I could be alone in a room with him for hours and it feels like time stands still. We would be together almost every day. Whether it’s going out to a bar, out to eat, to the movies, the park, the world was endless. Time was endless... So I didn’t understand what he was talking about. Eventually he told me that it’s because he didn’t think I was pretty enough to be formally introduced to his family and friends as his girlfriend. I wanted to die. Literally. I was so embarrassed. Humiliated. I couldn’t believe he said that to me. I didn’t talk to him after that. We left off at me punching walls and him telling me I needed help..
At 23 I met my ex fiancé. This relationship was the relationship that solidified the fact that I really am meant to be with T. When I was with my ex fiancé everything was great. I was in love, I found someone that wanted to be with me and didn’t care to show me off to the world and thought I was his muse as he was mine. That’s all I wanted from someone else. That’s all I wanted from T. And I got that from him. So when he proposed I said yes. And I was happy. We were living together, had a dog together, were working on our goals individually and as a couple. But my ex fiancé was possessive and very jealous and didn’t let me do anything other than being with him all the time. At the time I was working and going to school full time. I couldn’t even celebrate my promotion when my managers took me out for drinks without my ex fiancé storming in coming to pick me up as if I am doing something wrong.. I couldn’t handle that. I needed my space. The more he smothered me with his jealous, possessive ways, the more distant and unattracted I was to him.
In the 2nd year in the relationship, I started cheating on my ex fiancé to be with T. Again. He came back into my life after him being in a committed but LDR. That lasted probably about 2 years. I couldn’t help it. Even though I was still in love with my ex fiancé, I still loved him. Deep down I still wanted to be with him and like come on. That’s my baybeeeee. I was wayyy more confident in myself at this time, but I started to lose my confidence with my ex fiancé. With T, it’s like I’m home. He brought out the good parts of me. He apologized for what he had said in the past. We had already grown up a lot at this point. I accepted it and We left it at that. I wanted to be with him but I had to decide if it was worth it. I was truly hurt by what T said to me. But I really loved him. I couldn’t shake the feeling. I couldn’t help it. I was in love with 2 people at the same time. I was at a stand still. Eventually, when I chose T, and left my ex fiancé for good, it was already too late. T had broken my heart by getting with someone else, I found out about it. This was during a time where my ex fiancé and I were living together but broken up, AND for that entire year while we were waiting for the lease to finish, he was with someone else, and me? I was with T. The relationship had died. Me being me though, I loved them both. When T got with someone else we went our separate ways again. I was 25 already. He was 27. He said he couldn’t take me seriously as I was broken up but living together with someone..smh
25-26ish was interesting. I was dating this guy that we reconnected from college days. It was fun and everything was great but AGAIN, I ended up with someone who wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. Soo I ended things after about a year and a half.
And again. You guessed it. T and I reconnected again. At this time, T was very depressed and anxious. Being 29 with no job still living with your parents must be really rough. Not knowing how to go about doing what you want to do. He wanted me to be there for him. To comfort him. And I did. Because I loved him. I stopped talking to that other guy 2 months prior to T apologizing to me. I had a pregnancy scare, had to get an abortion. It was T’s. I did it not only because I knew we weren’t ready yet, also because I wanted to make sure I had finished school and had my own place with T. He was there for me and supportive through it all. Our relationship was great. I couldn’t wait to move out together with him. We would always talk about the future and how it would be like with us. Our little bubble was perfect. But other aspects were not. Outside of us he was struggling with who he wanted to become. He wanted to be able to provide and it was so hard for him to find a way to get to the right path to start his career. So he started pushing me away. One day, I tripped. Mentally. And that was it. Because I too, was dealing with family problems outside of us. He started pushing me away after that. He started seeking therapy and he was diagnosed with anxiety. And then he broke up with me. And that was last year in September. Since then I have been trying so hard to get back with him. I took time off to seek therapy which is something that I did do before but I stopped going. This time I wanted to make sure that I stuck to it and I have been ever since. I am a completely different person because of it and have grown to understand that sometimes you don’t have all of the answers. But all you can offer is love. But love also can only get you so far. That we should also love with all we got and tell people you love them like it’s your last day. But with T, he got into a relationship about 4 months after he broke up with me. And he’s been with her since.
Here comes the hard pill. The flex. He said that I never had him and I never will. He never loved me. He was using me and manipulating my emotions to feed his own ego and his own selfish desires. Deep down inside he knew he was using me. He knew he was never going to be able to be the person that I wanted him to be, which is my boyfriend. He knew he was doing harm and wasn’t fair to me so he had to leave. The only satisfying thing was the sex. He never considered us a couple or ever being together. In his mind he was never my boyfriend. He never really cared as long as I was available when it was convenient for him. He doesn’t feel like I would fit into his family. He AGAIN, dosent think that opinion will ever change. And he dosent want to even tell me why. He also thinks I’m a stalker.
So why do I still want to be with him and still have so much hope and faith that he will come back to me? Currently at 28 & 30? Because T is biased, he is basically in the same relationship that I was with my ex fiancé. I learned a lot in that relationship. He has never had a relationship like that. This is the full on learning relationship for him. He will realize one day what he lost. All I ever wanted was to be with him in every way. That’s never going to change for me..And I will keep working on myself until then. I can’t shake this feeling. I am going with my heart. I am still young, and life changes every second of the day. I am very much hurt. But I know this isn’t the end. I know one day he will change his mind about me...Long live star crossed lovers. Forever? Forever.
submitted by MamaRusa to BreakUps [link] [comments]


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