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This happened in February of last year, but my friends have been telling me I need to post this story online … so here goes nothing:
My wife and I (both 31 years old, at the time) moved into a new three-unit apartment building in San Francisco. One of our neighbors is a 70-something year old retired veteran, we’ll call him Joe. For context, Joe is a white American guy and he’s also a devout Hindu priest. One day I run into Joe in my hallway, and he tells me about this charity he manages for a community in Bangladesh. I wanted to support my neighbor and the charity, so I ask Joe to send me the GoFundMe link.
The next day at work, I go on the GoFundMe page and donate $150. Or so I thought. Moments later, I get a text on my phone warning me of an unusually large transaction on my credit card. I’m confused and swipe to open the text message. It says I have made a payment of $15,041 to GoFundMe. Immediately I’m sweating. How could I have donated FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS? I spend the next 10-15 minutes retracing my steps, and finally I realize my credit card starts with the numbers 4 and 1. It seems I had accidentally started typing my credit card information while my cursor was still in the donation box, and just like that 150 became 15041. Yikes.
I call GoFundMe’s support line in a panic, and when I finally connect with a human I explain what happened. “No need to worry”, he tells me, they will initiate a refund of the transaction which should process in 3-7 business days. That’s a huge relief. But then I ask the agent if the charity will be able to see the donation on the GoFundMe page until it is refunded. “What do you mean?” the agent asks me. “What do YOU mean what do I mean?” was my response. “Will they be able to see the $15,041 donation?!” Unfortunately, yes, the agent tells me. They will be able to see it until the refund process is complete. I tell him that’s a big problem, as the entire GoFundMe had hardly raised that much at that point. Surely they will notice their fundraiser doubling overnight?
My plan was to knock on Joe’s door the following morning to give him the full story, so that he could pass it along to his contacts in Bangladesh. But when I woke up the next morning, I looked at my phone and saw I had 40+ notifications on Facebook. Someone had sent me a friend request, had liked many of my old posts, and had sent me many messages. Immediately I was concerned when I saw that the individual messaging me had a Hindu name, but I never could have imagined what I saw when I opened his first message…
The man had sent me a video of himself from Bangladesh, surrounded by dozens of impoverished and hungry people holding bags of food, thanking me BY NAME (Michael) for my generous donation. A big round of applause for Michael. At this point, I’ve leapt out of my bed and I’m pacing. Part of me wants to scream, part of me wants to crack up laughing. I start swiping through the man’s messages, and it is picture after picture after picture of poor Bangladeshis thanking me for my kind donation. Literally hundreds of photos of frail, elderly, disabled, and malnourished individuals holding signs with my name. Thank you, Michael. Thank you, Michael. I've uploaded a portion of the video, and a few photos, for you guys to see here: https://imgur.com/gallery/tROXniV
Needless to say, I couldn’t live with myself just donating $150 after seeing how the community responded to the $15,041. I decided the least I could do was to add a zero, and so I donated $1,500 once the original donation was refunded. The charity’s host was incredibly gracious and understanding, and he explained to me that $1,500 goes very far in Bangladesh for urgent food relief. Here is the charity’s new GoFundMe link if you want to check it out: https://www.gofundme.com/f/urgent-food-relief-assistance-in-bangladesh
Ultimately I think the whole experience was a win-win. I helped a great cause, and I got a funny story out of it.
TL;DR: Some impoverished folks in Bangladesh thought I had sent them $15,041 but it was an accident and I had to request a refund for most of it.
EDIT: Many are asking why there is no $1,500 donation listed in the fund’s donation history. I donated to an old campaign link for the same charity. It is readily findable online, if you feel compelled to search for it.
So just a little background info for context here, my husband is one of those pimple popper dudes. He loves to pop pimples. He often requests to pop my pimples that I can't reach, or even ones I CAN reach, that just appear especially.... juicy...yuck. Me on the other hand, I hate it. I hate having my pimples popped, I hate popping pimples. I wish I could just zap them off. Plus, it always hurts more when he does it...he doesn't have gentle fingers. He's got big meaty sausage man fingers that don't delicately do ANYTHING. I love him through thick and thin though, and so he gets to pop my pimples sometimes. And I will oblige and pop the ones for him that he cannot reach. Like the ones on his back or back of his legs. What did he ever do before me right? Anyway, onto my fuck up.
This morning I roll onto my side and begin to wake up. I'm still sort of groggy, sort of in and out, BUT what I see is my husband who's laying on his stomach, snoring peacefully. I begin to try and rouse (not AROUSE, learn the difference!!!) my husband by rubbing his back and playing with his hair and just in general being sweet. And holy mother of all that's disgusting...my husband has a pimple on his back that is just...huge. I mean this thing could be a cyst for all I know. Okay well maybe not a cyst it's not THAT big, but still...it's pretty large. And I can just tell.........this is going to be one he WANTS me to pop. He's going to wake up...feel it...see it...and beg me to pop it. So instead of delaying the inevitable, and while I'm feeling up to the task, I decide ok...I'll do it. All the pus that comes out? He is going to...freak. He will probably give me some sort of like...best wife ever award. At the very least he's going to not have this disgusting thing on his back anymore so that's a win too.
So, I ready my fingers and my mind...I find this thing again and I am locked on. I am steady. I get my fingers in prime...no. Not prime. optimal...yeah.... OPTIMAL squeezing position. And I'm ready. He breathes in and as he's breathing out, I SQUEEZE. I mean I just...go for it. I'm not as good as he is...and I have to loosen my grip and reposition QUICKLY and squeeze again to really get under it...but by God, I've got it...and it....is......!!!!
Not glorious.
And let me explain to you why. See here is another little background info tidbit for context. I'm pregnant with my third child. And one thing that has been very consistent with all three children is that well...I have very vivid and convincing dreams during pregnancy. I mean with my last pregnancy I had a dream me and Rihanna were an item and when I awoke to a white man (granted a handsome white man) in bed with me INSTEAD of Rihanna I was genuinely shocked and dare I say a little angry. ANYWHO. back to this morning. Where was I? Oh yeah, popping my husband's mega pimple.
Wrong. See I dreamed all of that and all I had actually done was reach over, in my sleepy stupor and proceeded to pinch. the ever-loving shit...out of my husband's right nipple. oh yes and not just pinched, but also proceeded to yank. My husband ... my poor poor husband...awoke to having his nipple yanked in a sick game of titty twister that would have made any of my guy friends back in middle school proud. Mind you this is also the nipple he is missing half of ALREADY due to a freak accident involving him and his stupid high school friends, a truck and a poorly placed jack. So, he's got a little PTSD involving that nip already. Well, my husband is screaming, which wakes me up, and before I can even understand what I'm doing he is flailing around and I am now screaming "What the fuck!" as I try to roll my rather large, 8 months pregnant, body out of the way (to no avail) and I promptly get elbowed in the throat. SO. now I've let go. I'm coughing cause I can't breathe. Hés rolled over and is guarding what's left of his nipple, cupping his hand to his chest and just keeps saying "What is WRONG with you???" which of course I cannot answer because I have been elbowed in the fucking throat. Eventually I do croak out though that I was trying to pop his pimple and he just looks at me with this look on his face that just says, "I'm so glad you're pretty" and that was how we started our day.
TL;DR
I thought I was popping my husband's pimple, therefore doing him a favor. Turns out, I was dreaming that I was doing this nice thing for him and instead I was attempting to rip his nipple off his body as he slept. He screamed. I got elbowed in the throat because I'm too fat at this moment to roll out of the way quickly. And that was how we both began our morning.
So, I’m passively doom scrolling on Instagram when I receive a DM from a man whom I do not know. I am no stranger to the scammers on Instagram, the ones who message you and say they want to “help you out.” I’ve always ignored them, as they’re obvious scams. But today was different, call it a lapse in judgement or a sudden loss of brain cells.
I receive a message from a man who seemed nice enough. Had a thought-out profile with photos and stories—not your typical fake profile. We start chatting back and forth, and things seem normal. Then this man asks me to be his Sugar Baby. Immediately I tell him that I a) have no money b) have no intention of sending him any money and c) am not interested in being scammed.
Of course he launches into a grandiose speech about how he’d never scam me or ever ask me for money. That he’ll be paying me, so there’s no need for me to be worried. Apprehensively, I agree to keep talking to him. We exchange phone numbers and begin texting back and forth.
A few days go by and we’re chatting regularly. I talk to him about work, his day, he asks me about my day. Things largely seem benign, at this point I’m assuming I’ve met a lonely old man who is looking for some attention. We never talked in any sexual capacity and he seemed to take a genuine interest in my life.
Fast forward to a few days later, he texts me and tells me he’s going to pay off my credit card debt (which we had previously talked about). I ask him how he intends to do so, and he becomes insistent on logging in to my credit card account and adding his bank account information as the form of payment. Initially, I was incredibly reluctant. Rule 1 of basic cyber security would dictate that anyone asking for my personal information SHOULD NOT be given said information. However, there I sat weighing the risks and rewards. A young college student with a sizable amount of debt from living expenses ($2,000+) and a man seemingly willing to pay it all off.
So, I run the risk. I give him the login information and sit anxiously as I ponder all of the ways this man could ruin my life. Then, the pending payment was posted and I receive email confirmation. Immediately, I change my password and thank him profusely.
After a day or two, the payment clears and my card is paid off. The euphoria I felt in that moment is unmatched. We continue talking back and forth for about two weeks, cut to last night at about 1 AM.
I am texting him about his weekend and he asks me to run an errand for him—this is where the feeling in my gut that something was wrong started. Then he starts telling me that he needs gift cards for crypto trading; that I need to get the cards for him because I’m the only one he can trust. That once I purchased the cards with my credit line, he would pay it all back just as he did before.
Naturally, I begin to ask questions. Why do I specifically need to purchase the cards? Why can’t he purchase them for himself? How many does he need? etc. Quickly, his patience runs thin, he begins pressuring me to purchase the cards and telling me I owe him for paying off my card.
Finally, I tell him outright no. That I’m uncomfortable and that he had promised I wouldn’t ever have to pay any fees of give him any money. Then, he got very angry.
I am not well educated on the SD/SB dynamic, but I do know that no one would ask anyone to do something of this nature unless they’re into some shady business. Either he’s scamming or laundering money, regardless I didn’t want to be involved. The man begins to ask for his money back, saying that if I don’t pay him back in 24 hours he’ll make me regret my life. I ask him how he wants to receive payment and he provides an email I do not recognize.
It was then that I realized—I fucked up. I start panicking and shaking. At first, I considered just sending the money and having it all over with. I was so embarrassed about the debt and terrified of my parent finding out.
Ultimately, I knew I didn’t have the money. In fact, I never had the money at all. I wasn’t given the money to pay the card, he added the payment to the account himself. So, I deleted every social media I had and changed every password to everything I own. I blocked his phone number and began thinking of all any information he really had on me and what he could do with it.
Unfortunately, this man was persistent. I began receiving texts from the email, telling me I’m not gonna “be smart” and run away with his money. I was so terrified I began pretending that I was my own parent and that I was confused as to why he was looking to contact my child. For some reason, he bought this. We interact briefly and he tells me that I need to “talk to my child” and get him his money in 24 hours or he’ll be opening an FBI case.
I then reach a realization: I need to actually tell my parent. So, I text them at the early hour of 3 AM telling them I fucked up badly. We call and I tell everything, about the debt and the man and the threats—all of it.
Now, I’ve come clean and my parent is helping me pick up the pieces and figure out the next step. Hard lesson learned, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.
TLDR: I met a man through Instagram DMs who wanted to help pay off my credit card debt. I allowed him to do so and when I refused to purchase gift cards for him on my credit card, he began threatening me. I ended up telling my parent and learning a hard lesson.
Yes, it’s okay to roast me. Financial desperation apparently destroys your critical analysis skills.
I did not believe my senior prank would backfire on me as hard as it did, but here we are.
This happened a couple of weeks ago but it's too funny not to talk about.
So I (18m) came out with the amazing idea to participate in the senior pranks in my school. There weren't many pranks being made at the school to begin with so it was kind of a disappointing way to end of the school year. For some background, my school has about 1,000 people in it, so it's relatively small; That also means word spreads incredibly quick, this is also important.
I came up with the genius idea to create a "mandatory penis inspection" that was going to be run by someone with the name of "Dixie Normis" and had it labeled as a graduation requirement. How did I come up with such a genius idea? The internet! More specifically, a reddit post with a similar idea. I cobbled up the document on my school Chromebook, working on and off on it for the next couple of weeks. Adding a tweak here, editing a date here, changing the wording there, forgetting it here and there. Eventually I found my time to strike and I was elated that some of my friends found it humorous and encouraged this prank to be done.
Now the setup; I've been in the school theater club for about 3 years now, I've familiarized myself with the way it works and the way rehearsals usually work out. I found my opportunity to strike, the 8 pm rehearsal days. I left for home, bringing a roll of scotch tape and the magnum opus that I created on my school Chromebook. I waited until rehearsals started and conjured my plan while I was tuning my guitars. I would wait until the 5 minute break before I strike on the unsuspecting school. So I did just that, a couple hours past after the final bell of the day rang and I conveniently had to take a bathroom break. Additionally, it was extremely convenient that the baseball team had just left the bathroom in question which gave me the impression that I would have something to fall back on if my genius plan did not go according. I stood in front of the door, the restroom unsuspecting on how I was about to defile it- and so I struck. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I dug through my bookbag pulling out my folder and pulling out the roll of scotch tape and tainting the stalls with my product. After 1 short minute, my prank was complete. I walked out of the bathroom pretending to be oblivious to what had just transpired and I kept it that way.
The next day, I woke up to dozens of reposts of the supposed "Mandatory Penis Inspections" that were supposed to happen at school the following day. It spread quickly among grade levels, the post being shared over and over again on different profiles, being exposed to different eyes each time. It got to a point where the school was alerted and then became a taboo topic to speak about. Any mention from that day about the penis inspection was met with scolding and threats of detention. Seniors and underclassmen were called down to the office by the number, only to be met with interrogating about what had transpired.
Here's where I fucked up. Not only did I forget about the camera that's in the hallway in front of the bathroom, but the fact it was only the theater club and baseball team in the school which narrowed the suspects down quite significantly. Did I also mention the day of the inspection was the day of the theater production? Nope. I did not. This amalgamation of "Not onlys" created quite the interesting scenario for the following day. I had slept in the day of the show, my plan to show up during my last period to show up before we began to ready the equipment and leave enough time to touch up any areas that might be work. I woke up to various missed calls by one of my band members, telling me that I fucked up and that I was in a lot of shit. One thing came to mind: The penis inspection. My bandmate had told me that I was at risk of getting kicked out of the show or even having the show canceled altogether (a production that we had been working on for about 3 months at the time) and having my graduation revoked if measures were to be taken that drastically. He told me that the principal required me at school that instant and threatened me with various disciplinary measures.
I rushed to school, frantically getting out of the house and sprinting down the sidewalk trying to get to school as quickly as possible. When I finally got to the school, I was greeted by the ever so friendly Ring doorbell summoning me to the office that instant. I timidly entered, trying my best to play stupid- I was being scolded for missing most of the school day. My moment of relief was quickly cut short by the piercing yell of my name down the office. My principal looked at me with a fiery scowl, eyeing me down across the room like a lion readying for it's next kill. She told me to go on with my day and that we were going to have a pleasant chat after.
My body was filled with terror the remaining 3 periods. I trudged through the hallways with ice in my veins, terrified of the impending scolding later. Fast forward to the end of the school day, I was walking down the hallway when I heard my name being called on the intercom. My body froze, my heart skipped a beat, and my mind went numb for an instant. I had felt the cold hand of death on my very body that instant. Knowing very well this was self inflicted, I had no escape as my legs walked to the office, my body wanting to run the opposite direction. What justification did I have for this you may ask? If you know it was going to cause this much of a turmoil, WHAT could possibly be the justification? It's funny. I walked with a pale face down to the office and was called down into the principal's personal office. The door slammed behind me and I stood before my principal, my stomach in my throat. She pulled out one of the inspection papers and slide it on the desk across to me, "Do you recognize this?" She began to read the first sentence and I could see the stern look on her face breaking slowly. She began to have a change of heart and wanted me to take accountability of it and realize that it was indeed- a fuckup. I was allowed to participate in the show (as the lead guitarist!) and I also am able to let this slide with little to no consequence with the only notable punishment not being able to participate in a school BBQ the following week which wasn't exactly world ending to me, but all is well.
TL;DR My senior prank spread a little too quickly and it backfired horribly on me, but I escaped with a slap on the wrist.
(poster in question https://imgur.com/a/Px1v7JV)
So this story begins about 10 years ago.
I’ve always been a little different, probably on the spectrum, and was never super masculine. I was also really smart and precocious, way ahead of my peers in school. I was hyper and often asked why instead of blindly listening, but I was a good kid with a good heart. My father is a strict, authoritarian religious type who resented that I had a sensitive side and didn’t blindly follow his authority. He limited the time I could spend pursuing my hobbies because he wanted me to study and practice piano, which was his passion. He yelled at me a lot, and then would yell at me for crying.
At age of 13, I still had a 9pm bedtime, and had to ask to take a shower or get a snack. My dad would get mad when I stood to pee (because it was “dirty”), and often tried to catch me playing with myself so he could tell me it was sinful. He once caught me looking at sexy pics at 13 and yelled at me then forced me to go to confession. After that I was banned indefinitely from the internet. My door was removed. My room was regularly searched. They found my secret iPod that had Eminem and Three Days Grace on it, which was the only thing that kept me going, and they told me it was sinful music.
I wasn’t allowed to have a cell phone or go out with friends because they “didn’t trust me”…I felt so isolated and alone. I started drinking a little and cutting myself, and when my youth pastor saw my scars and told my dad, he forcibly stripped me to see them and yelled at me about how I made my mom cry herself to sleep.
Soon after I came out as gay. It was not well received, and I was told in no uncertain terms that I had to accept it was wrong because it went against “our family values”. I was so depressed. All I wanted was some space to be myself and some love and acceptance, but my parents thought I was some kind of monster. After a half assed suicide attempt, I was put into a mental hospital. Discharged two weeks later. And my parents sent me to three more in a row, saying “nobody understands how troubled our son is”. I kept getting discharged because there were no grounds to keep me, but my dad was paying out of pocket so getting me admitted was easy.
Finally, while I was at the fourth one, he told me that I was getting sent to a Christian boarding school in Texas indefinitely, with no access to the outside world, and that a private jet with security was taking me in 3 days. He claimed it had nothing to do with my sexuality but the admissions lady I was forced to have a phone appointment with was asking what I had done with other boys.
Here’s where I feel like I fucked up. I asked for the number to CPS and called them from the hospital. I was assigned a case worker and a judge ordered that I had to stay in my home state during the investigation. My siblings were pulled out of class asking if my parents hit them and stuff. I didn’t find this out until years later but apparently they were really traumatized and didn’t understand what was going on. My sister has always been daddy’s girl and my brother held his tongue so my dad was nicer to him. I was ultimately placed into foster care. My parents were charged with neglect and ultimately beat the charges, but it was really expensive for them, and then my dad had to pay child support until I was 18. I carry a lot of guilt.
Foster care was fairly uneventful. I aged out at 21 (I’m 27 now) and made it work for a few years, but financial difficulties along with chronic illness have forced me to live out of a vehicle for the last 2 years. I work as much as I am able and would actually make less on disability. But I can’t seem to really generate enough to get out of the situation. Currently stuck renting an expensive vehicle after mine got flooded in December, since I’m severely allergic to mold and everything in my price range gives me an asthma attack.
Previously I would see my family on holidays and call them on birthdays but I have reason to believe they suspect I’m homeless and don’t want to deal with it. My family is really well off. My sister is getting married in two weeks and I haven’t gotten an invite. A few years ago she told me “you abused the family”. Maybe I shouldn’t have shouted back at my dad. Sometimes I feel like if I could have just held my tongue and pretended to agree with their religion I wouldn’t be in this situation. I love my family a lot and I wish my existence didn’t cause so much pain for them.
TL;DR: I came out as gay at 13 and my strict, religious dad tried to have me sent to a Christian boarding school. I called CPS and my parents were charged with neglect and my siblings were traumatized by the interviews with social workers. I was put into foster care and my dad had to pay thousands a month in child support. He says “he’s already sent me to Harvard” and says I’m on my own now. I don’t know what else I could’ve done but now I’m homeless and my family feels betrayed and I feel so sad and guilty.
Edit: I had no idea so many people would see this. I really appreciate all of your comments, even the mean ones, because they are showing me how much I’ve grown in loving and accepting myself. I’ve been in therapy for a long time and for the most part recognize that I made a courageous move, but I still have moments where I blame myself- childhood trauma and gaslighting can leave us with long lasting scars. To those who say that my current situation is my own fault- you are right in the sense that I need to take personal responsibility for my life and that nobody is going to save me. I just hope someone shows y’all a little grace if things go downhill for you.
Posting on behalf of another person:
A few days ago, I received world shattering news. My only true friend took his own life after drinking with me. This news hit me like the sky was falling because he was my savior and my bromance.
He may have seemed like an ordinary guy, a background character, but he always provided me with the most honest and helpful advice, solely focused on my well-being. Our friendship started in high school when I was a jerk and a bully, always getting into fights with kids who mocked me. I first met my friend outside the principal's office, and we discussed why we were there. He pointed out that due to the lack of a father figure, I tended to resort to violence to hide my frustration. Someone telling me that kind of words is a reason why I got into so many fights, and although it made me angry at first, I eventually realized he was right. He said those words without any mockery or sympathy. He was different than others. We started talking more after that, and I found myself relying on him more than my own mother. Whenever I reached out to him, he would always provide the most honest advice and point out my flaws without any filters or sympathy. He gradually changed me for the better, and I realized I needed someone as honest as him to help me grow.
Years went by, and I graduated from high school barely and started working in construction while my friend attends college. He was smarter than me and chose a different path, but we always hung out, and I continued to rely on him for various problems. He never turned me down and always provided the best advice.
Things were going well for me. I got promoted, had a stable income, a nice house, and a modest car. Then, a disruptive force entered our lives in the form of my friend's girlfriend, a seemingly nice girl. For my friend, who had no luck in romance, she appeared to be a lucky find. At first, I was happy for him, but as time went by, he dropped out of college and took on different jobs. Later, I discovered that she had convinced him to work and pay for her college tuition after promising him to pay his college after gradauting and starts to earn. I wanted to tell him how absurd that was, but he was happy to support someone he loved. After all, he was the smarter one between the two of us, so I leaved decision to him and tried to help him as much as I could.
After she graduated from college, she looked for a job but gave up after only six months. She spent another year doing nothing but spending money on clothes, bags, and other things while my friend worked his ass off in minefield. He had a schedule of 14 days on and 14 days off, but on his days off, he worked as a car detailer.
My patience was wearing thin, and one day I called my friend to tell him that it wasn't fair for him to pay for her college tuition while she refused to work. Before the conversation could continue, he told me that his girlfriend was six weeks pregnant and they were planning a wedding. I was shocked to hear this, but he was so thrilled to become a father that I swallowed my words and congratulated him.
Four years went by, and my friend had a daughter. He was happier than ever before. Then, that nightmarish day arrived. After work, I received a call from my friend asking me to meet up. I was always happy to see him, so I immediately agreed. We met up, opened a few bottles, and talked about the usual things. But he was different. Looking back now, I realize that the light in his eyes was gone. I didn't notice it at the time, and I might never forgive myself for that. Night fell, and he insisted on going home alone. I made the big mistake of letting him go. That night, I lost my friend.
Apparently, his wife was having an affair, and even their child wasn't his. During an argument, she revealed this to him because he refused her request to buy a new car. I had always suspected something was off because the child didn't resemble him, but how could I say anything when my friend loved his daughter so much? After hearing the truth, my friend lost his will to live and came to see me one last time. I learned this from a message he left before he ended his own life.
I attended his funeral today, but none of his family was present. He had been an abandoned child, and the only people there were his wife's friends and family beside me. They spoke about how my friend had selfishly taken his own life, leaving his wife and child behind, and how he had failed as a husband and father. Everyone comforted his wife. I wanted to burn the ground down with all those people inside, but I restrained myself out of respect for my friend. Then, I reached my breaking point.
I couldn't bear hearing everyone say that my friend was a bad person when it was actually his wife who deserved criticism. I stepped outside to take a breath, and when I returned, I overheard his wife talking with his friends. She described him as useless, always absent, and leaving her to raise their child alone. She even insinuated that he might have had an affair while working at the mine. I couldn't contain my anger any longer. I exploded, grabbed her by the back of her neck, dragged her to the middle of the room, and shouted the facts. I made it clear that he had paid for her college tuition, sacrificing his own dreams, and he had worked tirelessly to provide for their child while she showed no gratitude. In my rage, I said she should be the one in the coffin. I acted like an animal, tears pouring uncontrollably from my eyes, spitting words in anger. I just wanted to strangle her and join my friend in death. But then I saw the child crying in the corner of my eye, the girl my friend loved so much, even though she wasn't his biological daughter. I stormed out and returned home.
When I arrived home i felt absolute hollow in my chest. Nothing mattered anymore. I wanted to join my friend, so I took out my pistol, pointed it at my head, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I checked the safety, the bullet, and tried again. The gun jammed. My friend had given me that gun a few years ago, and we used to go to the shooting range together to relieve stress. Is it him telling me to keep living?
I don't know what to do anymore. If I don't confide in someone, I might attempt to join my friend once again.TL;DR:My only friend of highschool ended his life after knowing that his child isn't his. And I failed to stop him when I could. So I stormed his funeral before trying to end my life too.
Update to post
In my previous post I mentioned that I am posting on behalf of another person. Here is what happened:
Yesterday I met him at a bar. Appearantly after he tried he went to their favorite bar. I happen to be there. Sat next to him, and made effort to have small talk. I needed accompany to distract from my own little problems, but compared to his mine was just little burnout at work. At first he was silent. Little by little he open up. And told his story. I am bad at this kind of conversation, especially comforting someone. So I sat there listened his story, trying my best to cheer him, atleast distract him from thought of ending his life. But as I said I was kinda bad at comforting someone, it wasn't much helpful. Little while he got more drunken, but he wasn't fully blacked out. I couldn't sit idly so I accompanied him little more while before walking him home. I offered him to stay night there. But he refused. I tried to leave him there and hope for best, but that didn't made my mind at ease. So I called help center. And few help worker came and he stayed with them. Eventhough he was with help workers I thought I could do something for him. So I posted this in hope for there is many people would help you if you allow it, and show him that he is loved and his life is worth to fight for. And his friend's death isn't his fault. Now I am at work after meeting him. Here is how today morning went:
After I posted I couldn't sleep, checked all of your comments and chats which I am so grateful. When morning came I rushed to his house, but he wasn't there. I panicked, didn't know what to do. Circled around his house few times, tried to look through windows, didn't help much but everything seemed same, few cigarette buds added on floor, nothing more. My panic continuous. Pulled out my phone in order to post again to ask for advice. Then I remembered I called help workers yesterday. I guess because I was in panic and thought of he going out and did what he couldn't do yesterday was clouding my mind so forgot about help workers. I called them, asked about his whereabout. They said he is with them. Instant relief. I asked location and went there. It was a studio furnitured like someone's home in order to feel warm for those who they are helping I guess. He was looked worse than yesterday, but calmer.
I sat next to him asked how last night went, he didn't said anything beside bearable. I asked help workers about last night. Help worker named Ahmed said they managed to calm him down and talked about his friend, how he guided him to right path, always gave him best of advice, fixed his bad habits. By talking with Ahmed I learned that our new friend here is like goes fishing, few bar nights and striptease clubs. And once in few months donates various thing in nearby single mother support groups as his deceased friend adviced him to. I went back to him and told him I posted his story on reddit, showed my post and all of comments and chats that I recieved. He didn't say nothing while reading. After that he gave me my phone back and said thank you with forced smile. It was so obvious he is forcing himself to smile back to me in order to show appreciation, but hey it was a smile. It means he is little bit better right?
Then help worker came said about his worth of his life, fact that strangers around world caring for him and it would be in vain for his late friends effort if he end his life that his friend so much valued. That was so much help because I didn't know what to say to him.
And he decided to go on with his life, cherishing the life that his angel of a friend protected and guided until the very end, honoring his late friend, and decided cut ties with that evil woman.
I tried add my word of comforting to him, how he is making right choice and asked his contact info, exchanged our socials. Before heading to work I made him promise me go fishing with me next sunday. In order to give him something to do, something to look forward to. I always wanted fishing buddy. I can't be comforting or person who gives advice like his late friend, but I can be that one guy who is annoying, always inviting some activities, someone who is always sends funny memes by chat. I hope it helps, I really hope. Wish me luck.
For those who showed genuine love and care by commented and sent chat to me, I am grateful from bottom of my heart. Without knowing any of us you guys showed most great love and passion to save stranger life.
All of you are heroes. Thank you.
So, this happened last night, and I'm still cringing at the thought of it. There's this girl I've been crushing on for a while now, and I finally managed to grow a pair and ask her out. She said yes, and I decided to invite her over to my place for dinner. I thought, "Hey, I can cook a decent meal, and chicks dig guys who can cook, right?" Oh boy, how wrong I was.
I decided to make some fancy-ass pasta dish I saw on one of those cooking shows. You know, the kind where they use words like "al dente" and "reduction" to make it sound like they're doing some next-level shit. I went all out, bought the ingredients, and even got a bottle of wine to set the mood.
Fast forward to the evening, she arrives, and I'm already sweating bullets. I start cooking, trying to play it cool, like I'm some sort of culinary genius. She's sitting at the counter, watching me, and I can feel the pressure mounting. I'm chopping onions like a madman, trying to impress her with my knife skills, when I accidentally slice my finger. Blood starts gushing out, and I'm trying to play it off like it's no big deal. She's clearly concerned, but I assure her it's just a flesh wound.
I wrap my finger in a paper towel, and soldier on like the culinary warrior I am. I toss the pasta into the boiling water, and in my haste, I forget to set a timer. No biggie, I think, I'll just wing it. Meanwhile, I'm trying to make small talk, but my mind is racing, and I'm pretty sure I'm just spewing out random facts about pasta and Italian cuisine. She's nodding along, probably questioning her life choices at this point.
As I'm stirring the sauce, I realize I haven't tasted it yet. I grab a spoon, take a taste, and it's saltier than the Dead Sea. I must've mistaken the salt container for the sugar one in my nervous state. Panicking, I remember reading somewhere that adding a potato can help absorb the excess salt. So, I grab a potato, peel it, and chuck it into the sauce like it's some sort of magical salt-absorbing grenade.
I finally decide to check on the pasta, and it's turned into a mushy, overcooked mess. At this point, I'm ready to admit defeat, but I figure I've come this far, so I might as well see it through. I drain the pasta, plate it up, and pour the sauce over it, potato and all. I set the plates down, trying to hide my shame, and we dig in.
The first bite is a disaster. The pasta is a soggy mess, the sauce is still saltier than a sailor's vocabulary, and the potato is just sitting there, mocking me. She's trying to be polite, but I can see that she is going to need a gallon of water to wash down this culinary catastrophe.
I refuse to admit defeat, so I muster up the most convincing smile I can and say, "Bon appétit!" She hesitates for a moment, then takes another bite, clearly trying to be polite. I can see the fear in her eyes, but I just keep shoveling the salty, soggy disaster into my mouth, pretending like it's the best thing I've ever tasted.
As we continue eating, I try to salvage the situation by making more small talk, but it's clear that the culinary catastrophe has taken its toll on the evening. She's giving me one-word answers and nervously glancing at the door, probably planning her escape route.
Finally, she can't take it anymore. She puts down her fork, looks me dead in the eye, and says, "I'm sorry, but I just remembered I have an early morning tomorrow. I should probably get going." I can see the relief wash over her face as she stands up, and I know I've royally screwed up.
I walk her to the door, trying to play it cool, like I'm not a complete and utter fool. She gives me a half-hearted hug and says, "Thanks for dinner. It was... interesting." And with that, she's gone, leaving me alone with my salty, soggy pasta and my bruised ego.
TL;DR: Tried to impress a girl with my "amazing" cooking skills, ended up serving her a salty, soggy pasta disaster, and scared her away with my stubborn refusal to admit defeat.
Obligatory this didn't happen today; it's been almost a year but I was too mortified to post.
A little background: when I was a baby, my grandparents got divorced. It was pretty amicable; they both got remarried.
My step-grandma is only 7 years older than my mom. She's a chill person and loves animal memes and stories.
My step-grandad was closer to my gramma’s age and very mysterious – I never really got to know him.
My gramma was widowed about 5 years ago. Shortly after her husband died she was diagnosed with breast cancer and got a mastectomy. Unfortunately, some of it had already spread to other parts of her body and her bones (I think that’s how it works? Sorry I’m not a medical doctor but that’s what I remember) and she periodically had to have other treatments. It took a couple more years, but she was eventually put on hospice care. During that time, she had several friends who would check on her but she also had 2 fulltime hospice nurses, one of whom had been my mom's good friend in high school. Close to the end, that nurse texted a bunch of us to come see her. Thankfully, her kids and more than half of her grandkids were able to do so.
Cue the f*** up. I saw my gramma only a few hours before she passed, and she was still lucid. I knew that her nurses said she was very close to the end but like…she was still responding to things and squeezed my hand. She had always been a stubborn person so I thought for sure she had weeks left, at least.
So when I found out that she had died, I started shaking and dropped my phone in a sink full of soapy dishwater. Of course I had to get my stupid phone replaced, and when I booted up the new one I saw a text from a number with the familiar area code - my step-grandma and my grandad lived less than 20 miles away from my gramma - with a condolence message: “I’m so sorry for your loss. I know that you two were close. Let me know if you need anything (hug emoji)”. I assumed it was my step-grandma and thanked her. I saved the number under my step-grandma’s name. And periodically over the 10 months I sent her memes and funny animal stories. Sometimes I texted her small stories about my nieces or other things that were going on. Her replies were mostly short but encouraging (just like my step-grandma’s) so I was none the wiser. I did notice that she texted more during the day than I had remembered that she would in the past – my step-grandma has a pretty busy job – but figured she maybe wasn’t as busy as I thought?
About a month after my grandma passed, I broke up with my boyfriend because of his genuinely cold behavior around my grief. He had seemed like a pretty decent guy but his reaction to the whole thing was alarming: he called me selfish for not wanting to go on a vacation with him right after and said it was her time to go and I should just accept it, already. My grandma had been my go-to for relationship advice but with her gone I thought step-grandma was the next best thing. “Her” reply was “you don’t know the person you’re with until something lifechanging happens” and that I had the right to feel alarmed about his response.
Shortly before Xmas, I texted to ask if her and my grandad had holiday plans yet, since I wanted to see them.
Her: I wouldn't know, I haven't seen him in years
Me: sorry, what?
Her: yeah I think the last time was at your mom's wedding?
Me: I'm confused. You two are married!
Her: I think I'd remember that!
Me: ....?
Her: I grew up with your mom - I don't think I could ever see your grandad like that.
It finally dawns on me, and I apologize for spamming her phone. She won't accept the apology since she said she thought it was just my way of grieving and she loved the cute animal messages.
I then had to get my step-grandma's number from my mom (who still ribs me about this) and called my step-grandma. She also hasn't let this go and makes jokes about me not having enough parents and forcibly adopting the poor hospice nurse.
I thought about sending the nurse flowers but figured texting her for months was odd enough.
TL;DR: Hospice nurses are angels and some of them love animal memes.
This happened today.
My girlfriend and I live in separate apartments in Brooklyn, but we share a storage unit near her place. I'd gotten a Zipcar subscription for a trip last month, which left me with a monthly fee that I was looking to justify. So I reserved a car for an hour and half to go pick up some of my crap. That's a half hour to get there, a half hour to pack, and a half hour to lug the stuff up to my place. This will become important later.
I apparently took longer than anticipated packing things up, and, as I'm pulling up to my place, I realize that the "meter" on my reservation is nearly up. Don't really love that you have to anticipate your trip down to the minute, but figure they'll just charge me for an extra hour and it'll cost me an another $15. Boy was I wrong.
Parking is scarce, so I double park, throw on the hazards, exit the car, shut the driver-side door, and go to start unloading my stuff. Hmm this is odd... I didn't lock the car, and yet the door doesn't open. I know, I'll use my phone to unlock it (you use the Zipcar app to unlock their rentals). Hmm, that's strange, the doors remain locked. This is when I start to realize that when the reservation for your Zipcar runs out, they don't just hit you with a fee -- they unceremoniously lock you out of the car completely.
So here's this car, double parked on a busy road, blocking some other poor guy's car in, with all my stuff locked inside. And the best part -- my cat's in there.
Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I'd spent the night at my girlfriend's, and brought my cat to stay with us. After shoving all my crap into the car, I'd loaded Kinko in for the trip back to my place. So now she's traped inside the car, locked in her carrier, on the first official day of Summer. WTF.
I call Zipcar. I grit my teeth and calmy explain the situation to an insufferably chipper customer service representative for a company that I'm beginning suspect doesn't have my best interests at heart.
I tell her that her company has locked my things inside of their car.
I tell her that her company has locked my cat inside of their car.
I tell her that it is hot out.
She asks for my ID number.
I tell her that her company has locked my ID inside of their car.
She asks for the last four digits of my credit card.
I tell her that her company has locked my credit card inside of their car.
She says something along the lines of, "well that's a pickle."
It's around this time that I'm approached by an elderly man who announces himself as the owner and operator of the car, which is now obstructed by this imobile rental car/take-all-my-shit device. He asks if I could kindly move the vehicle, because he's experiencing a medical episode and is about to drive himself to the emergency room. WTF.
I explain to the customer service rep that there's now a very real chance that a curteous, elderly bystander may die, because her company has decided to suddenly and without warning transform the car I had rented into a large, immovable hunk of crap. I tell her that this is unacceptable, that if it were her, she would not want to die because an uncaring service representative of an uncaring car rental company chose to value their rental policy over a human life.
She thinks this over. She asks if I can hold. A minute goes by, then two... five... ten. A man is dying. I am freaking out. Something must be done.
The garage where I was supposed to drop off the car is actually very close to my apartment. I run to it. I find an attendant there, and I told him the story -- albeit, with less color -- that you read now.
I ask him to unlock the car.
He tells me he might get fired if he does.
I tell him that their are lives on the line. That the fate of an elderly man and a very good cat rest in his hands.
He stares off into space, and a for a moment I can almost see the conflict inside of him, as the pragmatism of his intellect wrestles with the better angels of his heart. He looks back at me.
He asks where the car is. Soon, my cat is free and an elderly man tragically drives himself to the emergency room.
Oh, and the late fee I expected? It was easily more expensive than the entire trip. Fuck you Zipcar.
TL;DR: I rented a zipcar, but underestimated how long I would need it, so Zipcar locked me out with my cat inside, and blocking an old man from driving himself to the hospital.
This event is one of the only times I've felt mortal fear and is now a frequent reference in my friend group.
It all started when I brought a helium balloon home from a party at work. My wife and I were hosting our weekly game night with 4 of our friends and as food was getting ready to be served I took a breath of helium and did the funny high voice thing. Ha ha...cool...let's move on, right? WRONG!
I wanted to make sure I got all the helium out of my lungs so I took a nice big breath of fresh air and exhaled deeply to get everything out. My toes fell asleep so I figured it was the lack of oxygen in the lung-full of helium so I continued taking slow, deep breaths since I obviously didn't want to hyperventilate.
After 30 seconds or so my legs got tingly and it just continued to get worse for the next minute or two. I didn't know why so figured I hadn't eaten enough that day and so wasn't handling whatever the hell was in that balloon so I laid down on the ground continuing to take very slow, deep breaths.
Another 5 minutes went by and things took a turn. My legs were now propped up against a wall to help keep blood in my body and head because I could no longer feel my legs. My arms were splayed out on the floor and not only could I not lift them but my fingers were curled inward in a constant clench because I'd completely lost control of them. I couldn't feel any of my limbs, breathing was getting tedious, and I was starting to slur my speech. My wife and everyone else was getting really concerned about what the hell was going on.
I told my wife to call an ambulance because I'd like to have them get here before I lost the ability to communicate. Another 5 or so minutes went by and there was now a police car, ambulance, and firetruck in our driveway with the associated public servants in my house gathered around my useless, unresponsive body laying on the floor. My speech was severely slurred at this point to the degree where the paramedics were having trouble understanding me. Luckily my wife was able to translate.
My lips were turning blue, my mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert, I'd lost all feeling in and control of my limbs, and my diaphragm was in pain from maintaining breathing. I was laying there thinking "Am I actually going to die because I took a breath from a helium balloon‽ What else was in that‽"
One of our friends was crying in the other room because she thought she was watching her friend slowly die, my wife was just trying to hold it together and not panic so she could translate my slurred speech for the paramedics, and I was wondering when the pain in my diaphragm would stop and hoped that I would just wake up better in the hospital. The EMT took a blood oxygen measurement...
...97%. Wait, 97%‽ That sounds normal. That's normal, right? Yup. It was. Ya know what wasn't normal? My blood CO2 level. They didn't measure it, but I was showing all the symptoms. Ya see, when you breath too much, also called hyperventilation, your body removes CO2 from your bloodstream, but having SOME CO2 is necessary for normal function. It causes your blood vessels to relax and allows oxygen to get into your extremities. When the CO2 level gets too LOW, the blood vessels constrict and the oxygen in your blood, even if there's plenty of it, can't reach everywhere in your body. That's what caused me to lose control of my limbs and lose feeling in them. The diaphragm soreness? That's because it was working super hard with less oxygen than normal so it was like running while holding your breath (anaerobic exercise). Normally when people hyperventilate they do it over a couple of seconds in a panic, pass out, their body returns to normal breathing, and they wake up in a less panicked state and return to normal breathing. Me? I wasn't panicking which was the problem.
The official recommendation from the EMT? STOP BREATHING! Well, breath normally. That would allow the CO2 from my muscles to naturally return my blood oxygen/CO2 ratio to normal and I'd recover.
Another 5-10 minutes went by and I recovered just fine. The EMT said "I've seen people hyperventilate, but I've never seen someone do it slowly over the course of 15 minutes".
After a $100 charge for emergency services and a fun game night to recover, we now have a great story to reminisce about. Now whenever my friend group is saying goodbye to someone who's about to do something even somewhat dangerous, we say "Don't breathe too much!"
TL;DR I tried clearing helium out of my lungs with slow, deep breaths and ended up hyperventilating myself over the course of 15 minutes experiencing the loss of all bodily functions that come with passing out while fully aware of it happening until an EMT told me to stop breathing.
This is an update from my first part: Original Post
This story is ongoing, so hopefully it fits in the today part.
After having several issues with a travel partner, I took some time alone to try and let them cool down. When I got back to the room, wanting to talk, she has already gone to sleep. So I climbed into bed and went to sleep as well.
In the morning, I wanted to hash everything out, but she didn't want to. So off to work I went. The day was great, and energizing intellectually.
I went back to the hotel to join my travel partner, and wanted to talk things out. Finally, she said the past is the past and let's not dwell. So we went out to eat. Afterwards, we were supposed to go and visit the city at night, but we didn't end up going because she was tired.
The day after I went back to work, and spent the day enjoying everything (and giving some presentations as well). It was all-in-all a good day. We had a happy hour after work, and a little while into it my travel partner asked me to come and join her. So I headed off to join her. We had a good evening, until we were finishing eating and I said something she didn't agree with. She stormed off, and left me in the restaurant alone. After paying, I tried to talk to her, but she wanted none of it. Finally I told her I didn't want to talk anymore and she was getting on my nerves (not in the nicest way, but not intentionally being nasty). Of course, she went off as if someone pulled the pin on a grenade. She started heckling me and insulting me and generally just being overall nasty. After heading back to the hotel, we get off the metro and I ask her if she wanted me to get her metro tickets to return later on. The response was a quiet "no, it's ok." After we headed back to the hotel and that was that.
The following day, it was raining and she mentioned she didn't want to do the activity i had booked in the afternoon. I mentioned that I would send her a chat to update one another. So around the time I needed to leave to go back to the hotel, she finally decided she wanted to go. So I go back, and we head to the last planned outing. We get to it, have an ok time, and start heading back. Something I said or did just set her off again, and she started going at me with nasty comments - not like before, but still unpleasant. I tried to keep my cool until I couldn't anymore. I told her the discussion was useless and I didn't want to talk anymore because I was done (a common phrase I had heard many times from her this week). Well, now she was angrier than ever before - she gave it her all to be as nasty as she could, calling me pathetic and a loser, etc. It didn't really bother me, and I didn't respond, which just made her more angry.
Eventually we get to the metro, and it's an entrance that doesn't sell tickets. Before I can get to the turnstil, she gives me a backwards kick with all of her might. Trying to extricate myself from the situation, I exit and try to find another entrance that does sell tickets. Eventually I find the correct entrance, buy a ticket, and walk towards my train. Eventually I cross her, and my intention was to ignore her. She starts screaming at me that I'm following her (which I wasn't). When I tried to turn and walk a different way, she started following me. I did my best to not engage, but this just enrages her. Finally she starts trying to hit me because I don't want to engage and I kept asking her to remove herself.from my path. After a while I asked someone walking by to call the police (I am a man, there is no way I can do anything to defend myself from her physical attacks) but the person just ignores me with a silly remark.
After this, my travel partner is making a scene and being dramatic. I ask her to leave me be and allow me to leave, but she won't until I essentially promise to not leave her there. After a while, she spits in my face, and I basically agree to extricate myself from the situation. I try to be as far from her on the train ride back as possible. She eventually wants to talk to me about what is going on, and what the plan moving forward is, and I just wasn't able to talk so I told her to give me time (as politely as I could). She allowed me a moment's peace until we got to our metro stop.
Off we go, and I get to the surface and tell her that I will give her the plan. I told her I didn't feel safe around her and that I would go back to the room, and she could pack her things, but she wasn't staying with me that night. I told her if the hotel didn't have anything, then I would find her a different place to stay. She gave me some excuse about not feeling safe in the city and that she was afraid I was going to leave her, so that's why she physically attacked me. Of course, I had told her time and time again that I has no intention of doing anything to harm her in anyway, but she knew that she had crossed a line. I finally decided it would be best to go to work and give me some to cool off.
Once at the office, I tried to let her know (at her request) when I would be back at the hotel. I then notice that she has blocked me on all messaging applications that we've used, so I start to pwnick - what if she's destroying my stuff? What if she destroys my passport? I then ask a friend for a favour, to come with me for security reasons (I don't know what this person is going to do). He, being the good friend he is, does so without hesitation.
On the way back, he does his best to distract me, and mentions that we should get the front desk agent to be the first person to talk to her to try and keep the situation calm. The front desk agent does as we request (but was clearly uneasy) and went with us to the room. Finally, the agent knocks on the door and asks if I can retrieve my stuff.
Of course, my travel partner just goes off on me (albeit restrained this time) about how I'm making a scene and inventing things in my head. I just want to get my stuff and leave. Finally I ask for my passport, which she had, and she was going to give it to me. Then she changes her mind, because she wants to use it as leverage for.me to give her what she needs to return home ($ for cab). While I don't have any local currency, I gave her some of our local currency for the other end. She then holds me passport hostage until I give her money. Of courses, at this point I'm feeling like the police need to be involved. I asked the front desk agent to call the police, but eventually i just acquised and went and got her the money. All the while, my friend supports me like a hero.
I get the money, I give it to her, and get my passport back.
On the way back, my friend continues to be awesome. He tries to distract me, and basically tells me that it was clear to him that I did the right thing.
Fast forward to now, and I'm sitting in a different hotel, with a room to myself. She doesn't know where I am, and hasn't tried to contact me.
I'm going to ask the desk agents before boarding for help so that I can feel safe at the airport and on the flight home.
TL;DR I invited someone to accompany me on a work trip, had issues with said person, & tried to resolve them. Afterwards, I continued to receive verbal abuse and then endured several physical attacks. I FU by ignoring all the red flags and tried to salvage the situation.
Today I Fucked Up and may have committed a crime.
So, a bit of setup, even though the actual FU was just a few hours ago. A couple of years ago, I set up a thick walled contractor trash bag inside a frame in the unused side yard that my dogs would go to relieve themselves. Once a week or more I would go out there and pick up all their droppings with a shovel and collect them in the contractor bag. After a couple of weeks, I would close up the bag and toss the whole thing into the trash bin, following the strict instructions given on my city’s Waste Collection Services website. And this was the schedule I followed until the Winter of 2021, when we had a series of storms that basically flooded our backyard. During this time, my dogs would go out to the main yard where there was higher ground and grass and do their business there. Then I would pick up their poop and put it into a covered trash can lined with another contractor bag. After a few months, this became the established procedure and it's the routine I follow to this day. During this time, I had forgotten about the big bag in the side yard, which had remained open to the sky and had collected a substantial amount of water, eventually collapsing under its own weight and closing itself.
Somewhat.
As time passed, the now largely ignored side yard became infested with tall weeds, completely obscuring from view the now forgotten garbage bag filled with feces and rainwater, leaving it to fester through two years of weather; during summer's hot days and several atmospheric rivers that only served to further churn and ferment the contents into an angry, foul, and disgusting goulash.
It was yesterday that I decided to tackle and attack the overgrowth with a weed wacker and that's when I re-discovered the bag of that revolting mixture. I had the luck of not hitting it with the trimmer and the sense not to open it. I resolved to clandestinely shove it into the trash bin the following day, since trash pickup in our neighborhood is on Thursdays.
So today I rolled the trash bin into the side yard, turned it on its side, opened the lid near the bag, and used a shovel and a hoe to as gently as possible, manipulate the bag into the open bin. And this is when today’s fuckup occurs. Somehow I miscalculated where the opening of the bag was, snagged the edge with the hoe, and accidentally exposed the fetid contents to the open air.
I've smelled some awful things before but this was beyond anything I've ever experienced. I nearly vomited but remembered some advice from a veterinarian: if you have to smell something really, really bad, like rotting or necrotic flesh, grin like an idiot. Somehow that inhibits the response to vomit. Since the wind was blowing in my direction, I immediately moved upwind to catch my breath and, grinning like an idiot, I repositioned myself to pull the offensive sack into the trash bin instead of pushing it in. I waited a few minutes to regain my composure before using the hoe to pull the heavy sack into the bin and slammed the lid shut. Pulling it upright, I started to wheel the bin to the curb.
Behind our house is a quaint little park. Since school let out, the park has been filled with people and children. There's a quilting group that meets right behind our house where the trees provide shade so that they can work on their quilts. There's a basketball court where parents and children go to shoot some hoops, and a small playground where parents put their kids on swings, let them climb around on the play set, and use the slide.
I heard the first scream close to the fence where the quilting group meets and shortly after I heard someone yelling "Oh good god, what is that SMELL?" Immediately followed by the unmistakable sounds of someone coughing and retching. I also heard "Ugh! That STINKS" and "Where in the FUCK is that coming from?" The northerly wind had carried the overwhelming stench of the open bag to the park where it was sickening and nauseating people who had come to relax and enjoy the early summer afternoon. I thought I heard a child crying, but I'm not sure since I was hearing other sounds of distress coming from the park.
I practically ran back into the house, stripped off all my clothing next to the washer and threw it in, hit the sanitize cycle, and took a long shower.
I can still hear their screams.
If it was a crime that I commited, let this be my confession. They say confession has the power to free us from the strongholds of sickness, sin, isolation, and torment, but nothing I do can wash this stain from my soul.
TLDR: TIFU and may have committed a crime by exposing innocent people in a nearby park to the stench from a gigantic bag of dog feces that had been festering and decaying in my yard for the better part of two years.
UPDATE: OP here. I really wanted to capture video of the Big Bag ‘O Shit getting picked up by the mechanical claw to be sloshed into the truck but I missed the opportunity. Instead I offer a short addendum and a photo. Apparently the BBOS had to be the only thing in the bin because opening the lid released an eye watering, concentrated plume of pure horror so bad that I couldn’t toss the rest of this week’s trash into it, lest I displace a fatal volume of feculent gas upon my neighborhood. The bin itself bears the scars of obscene tracks of concentrated aged dog excrement and it smells, well, like absolute shit. I took a chance by opening it to take this photo and feel fortunate that my iPhone’s protective case only melted a little. https://i.imgur.com/5eOXHOI.jpg
UPDATE: They’re not to blame. They just… contributed. https://i.imgur.com/wkTCapM.jpg
This is about the time I fucked up by mistaking my scratched cornea for a contact lens piece and tried to remove my cornea from my eye for over 2 hours while crying blood and burning pain. This was one of the most excruciatingly painful times of my life. Let me set the scene. I had a nose job and during the first weeks, your whole face gets swollen so badly that you cannot recognize yourself. Also, getting black eyes after rhinoplasty is very common.
One of my professors in college is an absolute asshole. I provided documentation from my doctor for 14 days of sickness absence. Here's the problem. In this course, even if there is a medical report, if you miss more than one lab session, you fail automatically. I talked to the professor and she told me to basically kick rocks.
So, since this class was literally Biochem I and I needed to pass this class to graduate, I decided to go to class after 1 week.
Now the problem was that my eyes were literally pitch black and swollen shut so my mom recommended I use Arnica cream and I thought it would be okay to apply it all over my face. I literally bathed in the stuff and since my eyes were really bad, I applied it under my eyes constantly. Arnica cream burns when it contacts the eye and I started rubbing my eyes so much because it burned so badly. Of course, since I am the dumbest person alive, I continued applying Arnica.
A few days after that, I felt a burning sensation whenever I closed my left eye. It was like thousands of tiny needles were puncturing my eye every time I closed my eyes. I thought the issue was maybe about the contact lenses so I removed them. Big mistake.
I started tearing up worse and when I looked at the mirror, I saw something that resembled a broken piece of a contact lens. So, I tried to remove it. Every time I touched it, it burned so badly. But my dumbass didn't give up. I tried to take the "broken contact lens piece" for over an hour when my mom came into my room.
She looked into my eye and said that it didn't look like a contact lens piece and at this point, the pain became so unbearable that I manually held my eye open. Because I was convinced it was a contact lens piece and didn't believe my literal doctor mom, she called an eye doctor friend of hers and that doctor also said that what I described didn't sound like a contact lens piece.
My eye was completely red and I was full on tearing up. Not even normal tears, bloody tears. So, we went to the ER. I was like 5 days septo-rhinoplasty post-op and honestly, having surgery was so much more painless.
The ER ophthalmologist used a topical anesthetic to examine my eye and you don't know the relief I felt. I couldn't register pain for like 2-3 minutes.
What the eye doctor found in my eye exam horrified him so much that he took a picture of it and beckoned my mother over to show her. Apparently, I caused a corneal abrasion in such a large space that it covered my entire iris. For comparison, it was really close to this.
Doctor told me that corneal abrasion, even as small as the size of a pin causes excruciating pain so he cannot imagine the pain I was in. He asked how I could create such a huge abrasion and he just stared at me and exhaled this big sigh after listening to my fuck up.
It was so large that the eye doctor, after applying flurescein dye, took a step back and pulled his phone out to take a picture of it. Apparently, it was the largest corneal abrasion he had seen in a very long time.
The pain meds did fuck all and I was given antibiotic eye drops in case of an infection. He told me to wear my contact lenses for 48 hours because it creates a barrier against the abrasion and the eyelid. But since it was the size of my literal eye, the parts where the contact lens didn't cover made me want to kill myself every minute. I had horrible blurry vision, continous tearing up and sharp stabbing pain for 3 days on top of the pain from surgery. I wanted to cry from the pain but couldn't even do thay because that fucking hurt, too.
I couldn't sleep for at least 48 hours because it hurt so much. I would physically hold my eyes open so my eyelids didn't touch the scratched parts.
Still made it to class next week, tho.
TL;DR I am such a fucking idiot that I mistook my scratched cornea for a broken contact lens piece and tried to take out my cornea for over 2 hours.
Edit: I passed the class with a C+. Almost half of the class failed. Yes, she is a tenured professor.
TIFU by not correcting a growing habit, and now I may have lost my wife for good.
I am (M) 35, father of one amazing girl (4). I am in a romanceless marriage with my parter, whom I am still deeply in love with, but I know that her interest in me is gone. I have made mistakes in the past, mostly a heavier than average drinking habit, (about 1/2 bbl of beer every 3-4 months, for about a year, this is equivalent of 15.5 Gallons of beer, through the pandemic.) that, sadly was the start of the demise of my relationship with my partner and best friend.
I had realized this, and had dramatically reduced the amount that I drink, seeing as how this was turning into an issue. I had tried to reconcile and had tried to repair, what I realized was a lost cause. I had tried, and acted, way too late. Aside from the drinking, there were other factors that caused issue., financially, We lost 2 cars in the same year. One to transmission failure, and one due to being hit. Loans were taken out in my name to pay off said cars. Insurance is no help... that is an entirely separate issue that I'm still dealing with.
This was a year ago, leading to a moment where I couldn't "rise to the occasion", and since then, both of us had avoided each other sexually. Always a "im too tired," "my stomach/ back hurts" basically any excuse for non-engagement in any sexual activity. And every time that my advances were turned away, I began to withdraw. I have been disappointed in this, to say the least, but I have never once been unfaithful, for the last 11 years of our relationship.
All this leading to the other day when I saw her insta with her agreeing to an online love affair. After 2 days of meeting. Every time I walk past her, she hides her phone or shuts it off. She has no idea that I saw it open one day after a shower....this is how I found out.
This broke me. I have never been unfaithful in any capacity for our entire relationship, and then, after a confession of guilt and repentance, it was met with "Aaron" A person, who I found out later, created his new reddit account, 5 days before contacting my wife.
Found out that his account is also subscribed to r/affairs and r/marriedbutchatting, but that's besides the point. I want to fix things, and i want to try and make things better, but I just feel numb about all this. she was texting him on discord about things that I just wish she would talk to me about, in person. (My behavior, habits, and things she feels is out of character... even though that this is just me, trying to be better.)
The worst part, is that I understand where she is coming from. The "What if" standpoint, on where I could be if I were to relapse is a legitimate worry. But I can't gamble my families future for my own personal short term satisfaction. This thought will not even be entertained by her. Basically, I did it already, whats to stop you from doing that again.
Then that's when it happened. Last night I was released from jail for a DUI gotten at 3am, omw back from work. I blew a .11. I had a couple of beers with some co-workers, because, some of them are good friends, and knew about the goings on at home, and I could trust them not to spread anything around. They just wanted to talk, and make sure things were alright. Had a couple of beers and went on my way. Thinking I needed to get home, I started speeding a bit on the last leg of the freeway before my exit. This was quite another fuck up. Turns out I also had a warrent for a Failure to Appear from an issue during covid. That's what they wanted to take me in for.
So, now I'm home, and about to have a talk with my wife about everything.
I feel ashamed, guilty, and more than anything, alone. My best friend is gone, and it's my own fault. But it's time for me to own up to everything, and take this thing on the chin.
I'm still going to fight to get her back, but I don't know how well this will end. She deserves better than this.
7 Days Later: I am currently in AA, and about to do voluntary outpatient alcohol rehab. She is currently texting her "friend" about how much they want each other. She still does not know that I have access to her insta.... and it just hurts to get evidence for our divorce. I need to see this, but its breaking me as a person and as a dad.... to see her just want to throw everything away... it just hurts.
TL;DR: I fucked up, got a DUI, and may have lost the love of my life forever..
Not sure if this is today, or a while ago, but the situation is ongoing. Also first time poster, apologies if I miss any rules.
So I met a woman a couple of months ago. We have done a few activities together, and spent the night at each others' places a few times. I enjoy spending time with her, and she seemed to make even the banal activities fun (like getting the car washed).
So I had a work trip coming up, and mentioned to her over dinner that I had thought about inviting her to come with me. The conversation evolved and eventually ended up with me in a non chalant way inviting her, and her mostly accepting.
So, after a week or two, she said she would be happy to come with me. It's to a destination she had never been, and she had wanted to go. Great, I'll have someone to make the whole journey better.
We were going for about 6 days, and three of them I have a work conference. So during the day, she'd be free to do what she wants while I was unavailable. In the evening we would do something together.
First thing to admit, communication is difficult for me - even though I put in a lot of effort to be better (successfully or not).
I try to be chill while travelling, because it's an experience and if things don't work out then it's not a big thing - we'll just adjust and change around when we do things. My second mistake was not communicating that in advance.
The trip doesn't get off to a good start - our seats on a 7 hour flight are a window and middle seat next to each other. We arrived at the gate late (which I never do, I always arrive in advance) so there was no more overhead storage to put our carry-ons in. She said, no problem, she'll keep them at her feet.
We get on the plane, get settled, and we eventually take off. I fall asleep very easily when travelling, but this was her first flight across time zones where hey lag would be an issue. She also started her period just before the plane took off.
After eating, I fell asleep. I had mentioned to her that she could wake me for whatever reason. After I woke up, she had mentioned to me, while I was still grogy, that she needed to get to the lavatory on the plane. I responded grogily that I was groggy, and that was it. After the passenger sitting next to me (between us and the asile) got up, I had let her know. However she had turned away and covered herself in the blanket and didn't respond. I had tried a few times to let her know, but she shrugged me off. Eventually i gave up. The reason why she wasn't responding - she was crying because of something I did.
Ok, so after a long flight, we get to the destination. I had slept well enough for the plane, but traveling I'd always draining. We get out bagged, and get something to eat. We had a discussion / argument and I tried my best to express myself, but she ended up walking away.
Afterwards, I tried to do my best to take care of her immediate needs - I went to the pharmacy in the airport to get some medication to help her. I come back, and then we get under way to the hotel. I always try to go via public transport, but opted for a taxi to get us there quickly given her not feeling top shape.
We get to the hotel, and it's another problem. Wrong type of room Fine, we go to the front desk and after much back and forth, we get a different room.
We get into the room and it's super hot because the A/C isn't working. She gets super upset and has a breakdown. She wants to leave, she days she will be miserable in the room for the week. Ok, i will try to do what I can to rectify the situation. We talk to the front desk, and we get a fan, but the A/C won't be fixed until tomorrow.
She takes off, and starts texting me. She wants to go home. Tonight. Alright, I start looking for flights. There is nothing available. I find something for the next day, which would work but I can't get her to approve anything. Finally I ask if we can talk face to face. She tells me she is in the courtyard, and I go and join her.
I'm not mad, I'm dissapointed in myself and the situation. I talk calmly and without judgment. She breaks down, and starts crying. Eventually she takes off and I let her go.
After trying to do some research to find a different hotel, flight options, and the fact that I'm starting to get hungry, I go and try to find her. She was on her way back and was just outside of the hotel. She ends up going to to the room and getting some sleep. I went off and ate, and grabbed food for her and put it in the room's fridge.
After a while, I get tired of being out of the room and need to take a shower. So I go back, as ninja as possible, and take a shower. As I'm finished she awakes and needs access to the bathroom/toilet. Of course I liberate as quickly as possible. She then goes back to sleep and I eventually doze off.
In the morning, she gives me some context. Of course I understand, and don't blame her for what happened. She decides she's going to stay for the rest of the trip. We plan a few activities and go about our day.
It was an overall good time until we get to the second to last destination and we talk about the next. Unfortunately it closes 45 minutes later, and it takes more than double that to experience it. För me - no big deal. För her, she is angry with me - she told me that I should be better at planning things. Second time she told me this today, and I accept I made a mistake.
Afterwards, she starred discussing returning to one of the moments we had already visited, but at night. However, I have to be in good shape in the morning, and given my planning failure, I was being extra cautious. She disagrees, and I repeat why I don't think we have time to go together with more details. She just gets upset and refuses to talk to me.
We take the metro back to our hotel, without saying anything the entire time. She went back to the room, and layed down. I asked if she was ready to have a discussion about what happened, with a clear head. She says that we've talked enough, and I made it clear that I hadn't said my peace. She told me not right now. Fair enough.
So now, I'm elsewhere in the hotel writing this. I want to make this a good trip for her, and I keep screwing up no matter how hard I try.
Tomorrow I get to go to work, so at least I will be able to escape this nightmare situation during the day.
TL;DR Invited a woman I didn't know very well on a long distance business trip. Flight went awful. We never discussed our expectations clearly before going. We fought several times along over two days. She now refuses to speak to me.
This TIFU was more of a team effort by myself and my wife. And it turns out this is one of the rare TIFU's that has no sexual element beyond metaphorically fucking ourselves in the ass.
I am Canadian. My wife is Japanese. Every year my wife and kids spend a few months in Japan visiting her family. I travel down for hte last week of it, do touristy stuff in Japan, and usually we travel back together. And becuase my wife likes to stock up on a large amount of household items, I usually bring a bit more luggage with me than I need so we can bring back more stuff.
This year we decided to book separate flights back to Canada. My wife's tickets were bought a day or 2 before mine, and it was $500 cheaper for me to return on a separate plane. We were booked to leave the same day, a few hours apart. This was the first domino in the chain that let things start to go wrong.
So this year as usual, my wife loaded up an absurd amount of stuff among the suit cases. We had 3 large check bits of luggage, 3 small carry on pieces, in addition to backpacks and the like. My wife packed all the stuff she could, and the rest was boxed up to send home by sea mail. My wife had the passports for her and the kids. The kids have both Canadian and Japanese passports. So she made sure they were in her carry on bits.
Everything goes about normal for international travel. We leave the hotel, go to Haneda airport, and then catch the transfer bus to Narita (the hotel was closer to Haneda). I split off from my wife taking one of the large carry on pieces, and board my flight. I spend about 6.5 hours playing Tears of the Kingdom. Get off the plane, go through customs in Vancouver, and then sit my ass down in the arrivals area to wait for 2 hours for my wife's flight to land.
About 3.5 hours into waiting, I start to wonder what the hold up is. I have not gotten any phone calls or text messages. They should have landed by now. So I crack open Line instant messanger.
I see about 15 missed LINE calls and several texts saying variation of 'Please Call me'. For unknown reasons, LINE is not good about actually showing me the goddamn push notifications for my phone. Scrolling back, I find out that my wife did not have her PR card.
For those who are unfamiliar, the Canadian Permanent Resident card is basically the same thing as a US green card. Japan does not allow dual citizenship except for kids younger than 20 years, and my wife does not want to lose her Japanese citizenship. No problem. PR cards work. But some time between 2014 and 2018, the Harper administration (fucking Conservatives) decided to change some rules; If you do not present your PR card and prior to boarding the flight into Canada, you will NOT be allowed to board the flight.
I called my wife back, explained I only just now saw her messages. By this point I had been awake for about 20 odd hours. I hurried home, and tore into the large check piece of luggage that my wife packed. I found the PR Card tucked into the cover of her journal. So the next domonos in the Fuckup: not keeping the PR card with the Passports. Not visually confirming we had very goddamn document at the airport before checking our luggage. Me taking the check luggage with the PR Card was a 1 in 3 chance.
So I immediately went to a courrier and sent the PR card to my wife back in Japan. The rush to send it back was about $300. The plane ticket was entirely non refundable, so call that a $2500 loss. A quick search to book a new flight was putting the price of a 1 way ticket for an adult and 2 kids at $7000. I am not sure what the airfare cost for my wife to return to her parents place (her family does not live inTokyo), but it was cheaper then waiting it out in a Hotel.
My wife did find a cheaper flight for about $2500 by waiting for a few weeks and accepting a layover in Seattle.
And that brings us to the next part of the Fuck Up. Neither one of us knew about whatever the fuck ESTA is.
We do not travel to the US. I am aware that taking a flight with a stopover in the US requires us to go through US customs. I had to do it one time, but other than being inconvenient, it was not a problem. But I am Canadian. My wife is a Japanese citizen.
To board any flight that lands in the US, a non Canadian (or Mexican probably) person needs to get an ESTA visa. If you do not have it, they will NOT let you board the flight.
They did not let my wife board her new flight. We did the ESTA thing immediately upon finding out. But it came back about an hour after final boarding for her flight the airline people took pity on her and let her rebook a new emergency ticket for about $1000-ish. But the next available flight was the next day. So we paid for a hotel too.
So, in an effort to save $500 and use separate flights, we spent about $300 on an overnight courier and at least $3500 on extra airline tickets (2 new return ticktets for an adult + 2 kids to Canada, plus airfare to and from my wife's parents home), plus some hotel fees.
TLDR: Verify you have your fucking travel documents before you check your luggage at the airport. And maybe be aware of bullshit US travel laws for stopover flights. Or be prepared to spend a lot of money for what should be a minor fuckup.
This happened a few years ago, before the pandemic, at a MUN. A model of the United Nations. You might be familiar with it, but for those who aren't, it's a university activity that simulates a United Nations debate. We basically choose a character in some commission and role play as important world leaders. This type of activity is very popular among law and political science students.
I participated my first year in law school. I did it well, I think, but it has hard ngl. Besides playing role-playing video games my whole life, I never did any IRL role-playing, like DND or anything like that, so I was not used to actually having to act, and instead I just took it as doing what a diplomat would do. But anyway... that was my first year.
In my second year I participated again, this time there was a Historical Commission. This one would follow different rules and standards. It would put us in the time of the Cold War, more specifically the Cuban Missile Crisis. This commission would have 2 antagonistic chambers. The Western one, with the US and its allies, and a Soviet one, with Russia, the other Soviet countries and their allies.
The idea was exciting, so I signed up for the Soviet Chamber, because why not? Being among the Soviets sounded so fun. There was a selection of historical figures to choose from, except for Nikita Jrushchov, who would be played by one of the experts who organized the whole event. Same for JFK in the Western Chamber. There was one name that I thought would be perfect for me: Andrei Gromyko, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Soviet Union. I chose Gromyko as my character.
We did a lot of research to stay in character and know how the Soviets would act and make decisions. In a way, we had it easier than the Americans because we didn't have that pesky democracy, but on the other hand, we could be sent to Siberia if we screwed up, whereas the Americans had the right to a fair trial.
The organizers of the Commission had certain scripted events, like the death of JFK and the discovery of nuclear missiles in Cuba, but otherwise we had the creative freedom to chance history. I remember that at one point we planned to overthrow the government of Romulo Betancourt in Venezuela so that we could use it as a strategic territory because we were about to lose Cuba.
MUN is a big event at my university and so many people signed up and even people from other universities joined. At the end of the first day, we had a lunch break. Then I saw an old friend I hadn't seen since my last year of high school. I greeted him and we talked a little while I ate. I told him a bit about what we had done in the morning and then the lunch break ended.
After we resumed our discussions, an organizer came into the room and announced that there was a spy among the representatives of the Soviet Chamber, and they were conducting an investigation to discover the spy.
We had discussions, debates and changed the story (for the worse lol). Until the second half of the afternoon. The organizers came back and announced that they had found the spy. It was Andrei Gromyko who was seen talking to CIA Director Allen Dulles.
I was as shocked as everybody else. I was immediately taken out of the room, then a member of the chamber took a (plastic) gun and pointed it at my head, saying that I had betrayed the Soviet Union and deserved a public and instant execution. Then he pulled the trigger and I just felt backwards. After that they went back into the room and I talked to the organizers for a while.
Since my character had died, I could have a fictional character to replace him. This seemed like a golden opportunity to me. My new character would be called "Dimitri Rascalov".
The rest of the MUN went by without much drama. Except for the very end, when the Western Chamber followed the advice of Henry fucking Kissinger and used every single nuclear weapon they had, and the world just went K-boom.
TL;DR: I participated in an historical MUN and played the character of an important soviet politician, but during a launch break I accidentally spoke to the CIA director, and then I was executed for betraying the soviet union.
This happened about three years ago, summer 2020. It was the height of the pandemic.
I (now 23f) met a guy on Tinder and we immediately fell for each other, even though we couldn’t meet due to the pandemic.
About a month into us talking every single day, he “coincidentally” was by my town. I decided to go get myself Taco Bell and was maybe going to meet up with him, but I wasn’t decided by the time I had left my house. If I knew I was going to meet him, I would have changed out of my pajamas.
On the (5 minute) drive over, I decided I was going to finally meet him. I was super scared (because I was afraid of getting sick, because it’s scary to meet a guy from online, because we really liked each other, all the reasons). But I never take risks, so I figured why not. The parking lot would be super crowded at that hour anyway.
So, I called him and said to come to Taco Bell and park in the lot. We’d finally meet for the first time. But I didn’t want either of us to get out of our cars because I was paranoid about COVID.
So, I get to Taco Bell and pull into the drive thru. The line was super long, so I texted my dad that it’d be awhile (my mom doesn’t know how to text). It was about 11pm.
So after about 20 min, I finish getting my food and finally pull up in the car next to him. We both rolled down our windows and had the whole “omg you’re real” moment. But I was skeptical, because he looked super short even though he said he was over 6 feet tall. He said it was because he was in a low sports car, and got out of the car to stand and show me that he was indeed tall. He starts walking towards my car door, and I grab the door handle to get out and give him a hug.
As I look left to grab my door handle, I see it. My mother’s car zipping into the parking lot, and my Tinder date’s hand on my door handle.
I scream “THAT’S MY MOM” and start to freak out. He turned around and pretended to walk into the Taco Bell, even though the inside was closed due to COVID.
Mind you, my mom and I are NOT close. She, luckily oblivious, pulls up next to me and starts screaming at me for not being home yet (it had been 30 min). I got so mad and said I texted my dad, but apparently his phone was off. I asked my mom why she didn’t just call me, and she said she didn’t want me to answer my phone if I was driving.
I asked her what she expected to do if I wasn’t there and was, say, driving home, or still in the drive thru. She didn’t have an answer. I was 20 at the time.
I told her that I parked because I wanted to eat in the car. I had left the house maybe twice in the previous 4 months, and genuinely needed space from that house (as this post can probably explain why). I have never done anything wrong or anything for her to not trust me, she’s just crazy.
So anyway, my Tinder date sneaks back into his car and pretends that he’s just another random customer. My mom screams at me that I need to come home now. I’m sobbing my eyes out. My mom leaves the parking lot and obviously expects me to follow her home.
I look over at my Tinder date, who’s in his car, and say “I have to go home, I’m so sorry.” And drive home through my sobs. I never got my hug.
As I’m driving away, I can tell he has his head in his hands and I think he was crying too. We were already basically in love with each other at this time, and our first meetup was ruined.
I got home, and my brother was waiting up for me in the living room. My god, they acted like I was gone for three days. I was home in less than an hour. I left my house at 11pm and was home by like 11:40pm. I don’t know why my brother didn’t try to text me. I had been checking my phone meticulously the entire time in case anyone texted me. Before the pandemic, I would go out all the time until 3am and my mom would always call to check on me. I don’t know why this time she decided she was just gonna show up.
My date got home, and I called him to apologize. I fully expected to never hear from him again. I had told him that my mom is crazy, but he finally got the dose of it. To my surprise, he stayed, but we didn’t properly meet again for a whole month after that.
Fast forward three years and we’re still together. My mom still doesn’t know and will never know. But yeah, I usually lie about where I am nowadays.
TL;DR I went to Taco Bell to go meet up with a tinder date, but my mom didn’t like that I was gone for 30 minutes, so she followed me and almost caught me and him together.
This happened last week, but I just now decided to write about it. I (28M) had this friend Nate (25M) for around 2 years now, maybe 3. We met on CSGO, a first-person shooter on Steam, and instantly clicked. We were both laid-back people who enjoyed gaming in our spare time. We've had many deep discussions on life and politics and agreed on many things. We have talked over Webcam,so I knew what he looked like. Well, a couple of months ago I got an offer from Caesars (A major casino) for a free hotel room for 3 nights and airfare to SoCal, about 20ish minutes away from where Nate lives. I was ecstatic and so was Nate, I booked everything and we talked about what we would do once I flew down. We both enjoy weed and I was bringing my laptop so we could smoke and LAN party it up, then he was supposed to take me into town to show me around, all good things. He had made it known that while he wouldn't be able to pick me up from the airport that he would be able to take me back. Not a problem I can uber there. The airport was an hour plus away so this is a $100+ uber, so I budgeted for that. Now comes the flight, I get there and everything is going smoothly, grab an uber and away I go heading towards the hotel. Now I initially thought Nate was going to meet me there that night and stay in the hotel with me until I left (I booked a king suite so he had a couch to sleep on) but he texts me that he will come by tomorrow morning. No big deal I get to the casino and wander around checking out what's nearby, the room is awesome and I'm really excited. This is the Harrahs in SoCal about an hour from San Diego, and for those who don't know this is built on an Indian reservation surrounded by large hills, there is nothing else nearby for 15 minutes around, meaning once I was dropped off I was trapped there. Well I go to sleep that night excited to meet my buddy the next day. Again, I was expecting him to meet up with me that morning like he said, but after waiting around for 2 hours I eventually texted him at 10 just letting him know I'm ready when he is. He doesn't text back until 1pm saying he slept in, and was on his way, and then doesn't show up until 3pm. I was kind of peeved but whatever we have the whole rest of the day. He parks and I help carry his desktop pc to the room. He has the sniffles and says he has a cold and was tested for covid and tested negative, so not to worry, we buy him some cough drops and then gamble a bit. At this point I really wanted a joint, just a preroll, and I ask him if we can drive us to the nearest dispensary (about 15mins away) and he says he will have it delivered to us no problem. He calls like 6 different places and they all say no, then he just drops it. After waiting awhile I bring it up again, and he says it's silly to drive all the way there when we are going into town tomorrow, I say that's fine I can get some tomorrow then no worries. This day goes pretty well as we gamble and game for the day, I clock out around 11pm since I was up early and he stays up for a bit. The next I'm up at 10 and waiting for him to wake up, which he does a bit after 1. I was expecting us to go into town that day and was really excited. He gets up and gets ready and wants to go play blackjack for a bit, which is cool with me. After we play for an hour, he tells me he really isn't feeling good and wants to go home to lay down. I'm pretty devastated by this since it was the last day for us to hangout (I had to fly home the next afternoon) but I just say ok and help him carry his things back to his truck. I'm also pretty pissed since I was never getting that preroll now. He goes home, and I stay at the casino and figure out shit to do on my own. That night he texts me that he feels like crap and won't be able to give me a ride to the airport. Now this really freaks me out because again this place is in the middle of nowhere and finding an uber isn't an easy thing to do. I tell him this and he insures me he will get me to the airport even if his dad has to drive me. I say ok and go to sleep. The next morning he tells me he found a random lady on Facebook who would drive me for $100 and to give her a call, I'm confused because he keeps changing his mind, and also not interested in driving with some random person who can rob me and dump me anywhere without knowing their name. So I just tell him I'll figure it out. I call 5 cab companies and no one is willing to drive out here, I ask the front desk and they tell me I'll probably have to take the bus into the next town before I can get a ride. I'm pissed and frantically trying to get an uber or lyft, and luckily one finally takes my ride after what seems like the 20th attempt. Keep in mind this is at like 10am, I didn't want to wait too long and then potentially miss my flight home. The uber is another 100 bucks I didn't budget for, and I'm pretty pissed. I had to sit at the airport from 11am until 6pm for my flight. I couldn't believe this person I cared so much for would screw me like this over a cold. I mean, if someone spent hundreds of dollars to visit me, I'd tough it out and make sure they had a great time or at the very least pay for them to get home. After getting home I tell Nate how upset I was and was told I'm playing the victim card. That was the last straw for me, and I blocked him on everything. It sucks when you find out you care for someone a whole lot more than they care about you.
TL;DR - Flew to visit a friend spending hundreds of dollars, only for them to leave after claiming they had a cold and refusing to drive me back to the airport. Feelsbad.
I awoke to the sound of my alarm loudly buzzing. With a grown, I rolled over and grabbed my phone to stop the annoying noise. I climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, thinking this would be an average morning. However, I was unaware of the horrors that awaited me.
After finishing in the bathroom, I made my way to the kitchen. Usually, I would only watch my sibling get on the bus and immediately go back to sleep, but I was hungry.
I beelined to the pantry door, my need for food leading my swift movements, but this desire was violently overtaken as realization hit my face and nostrils. An ungodly smell filled my nose, seeping into the very depths of my soul. I flinched away, the smell of death still clinging to my senses. I scanned the closet floor. This horrific smell must have come from a dead animal, possibly a mouse.
To my surprise and relief, no furry creature was in sight; but the smell of a baked turd still insisted upon its existence. My eyes shot up. I scanned the shelves looking for the beast behind the stench, my search ending in failure. I tried sniffing it out, but the smell had already bled through the closet, bathing everything in its musk. I thought of any possible culprits and remembered the rank stench of rotten potatoes. Knowing what to look for, my eyes darted around the closet before landing on a plastic bag labeled Russet potatoes, a happy little potato posing next to the Merriweather font.
I lunged forward, grabbed the bag, and examined its insides. Though I dared not open the thing, I saw liquid remains of fallen potatoes slosh around the plastic container. I quickly disposed of the crime and grabbed a bottle of Fabreeze, prepared to cleanse the closet. I thought it was over and believed I could sit back and rest; despite my ruined appetite, I thought things were fine.
But I was wrong.
A smell began to rise and flood the room. My stomach dropped as I turned my horror-stricken face toward the garbage can. I rushed to a hallway closet and grabbed two plastic bags before returning to what I naively believed would be the potato's final resting place. I summoned all the courage I could muster before reaching for the bag.
With shaking hands, I lifted the plastic sack out of the trash and into one plastic bag. However, attacked by an indescribable smell, worse than the others before it, I gagged, the dying breath of the rotten potatoes clogging my nose. I retched again before concealing the mess in a thin plastic layer of protection. Though I knew this would not be enough, reaching for the second bag, I covered the first without incident.
Instead of putting the vile thing back into the garbage, no, I knew better, I went outside and threw it into the bin, shuddering before closing the lid and sealing away the fallen beast.
I knew this ordeal wasn't over. The potatoes had left a smelly wound upon my home, pungent and festering. It needed to be treated.
I grabbed the bottle of Fabreezed and attacked the trashcan and its surrounding. When the smell was drowned out, I turned towards the pantry. I prepared myself for my final battle with the potatoes' nauseous gas.
It was a long and exhausting battle, one for the history books. The putrid smell fought valiantly, but in the end, I was victorious!
Make sure you check on your potatoes guys, sometimes they grow into little aliens covered in roots but they can also turn into a disgusting, rotting mess. I was lucky that the baggy didn’t have any holes, otherwise, the pantry would’ve been covered in liquid potato stink and I would’ve needed to deep clean the entire thing.
On another note, I hoped you enjoyed this stupid little tale of potatoes gone rancid and my appetite ruined. It was fun to write so I hope it was fun for you to read👍 I'm sorry for any grammar mistake I might have made. I did use Grammarly because I have the writing ability of a slab of bread(you might be able to tell from these last tidbits since I'm not using anything other than autocorrect and spell check to fix it). I hope you have had a good day and if not, I hope this story helped make you smile.
TL;DR: Rotten potatoes that smell like Satan's leaky arsehole can ruin your appetite.
Obligatory not today
I’ve been meaning to write this for a while but was finally inspired by this post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Radiology/comments/13rw2a7/hook_line_and_sinker/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=1&utm_term=1
When i was 10 years old, I was fishing at my grandparents farm in Pennsylvania early in the morning. I say this as if I knew what I was doing—I did not. I moved around the pond a couple of times trying to find a good spot. I finally found one under some shade that looked like it had some good fish activity (again, absolutely no idea what I’m doing).
I cast a couple of times without any luck, then on maybe my fourth cast or so, I didn’t see my lure hit the water. I looked up and noticed that my line was stuck in some trees above me. I jiggled the line to see if that would loosen it, but no luck. Then I gave it a big yank and felt a shiver run up my spine. Or something like that. I turned around and nothing was there. I pulled again and felt it again - this time realizing that it felt more like pulling and was specifically on the back of my head. I touched the area and felt a small piece of metal embedded at the top, back left corner of my scalp still attached to the fishing line.
I panicked. First I tried to put my fishing pole down so that I could use both hands to get at the hook. I dropped the pole and felt a sharp pain in the back of my head and the pulling sensation dramatically worsen. I grabbed the pole and tried to make sense of it all. The line had somehow gotten tangled around a branch and the hook had come down on the other side, sinking into my skin.. Since I now realized I couldn’t put the pole down, I held it in my left hand and reached to the back left corner of my scalp with my right hand. I tried to pull it out but it didn’t seem to want to come out. In my 10 year old brain, I thought I would be in huge trouble if anyone found out.
So here I am at about 5:30 in the morning, holding a fishing pole in one hand, with the line tangled in a bunch of tree branches overhead, and the hook stuck in my head like some weird puppet. After about 30 minutes of unsuccessful attempts at removing the hook, I finally realized I was going to need to get an adult involved. I grabbed the fishing line just above the hook and began pulling it gently down from the tree. Since I was no longer tugging at my own head, I yanked it harder and the line broke. I was free from my self imposed marionette prison, but the hook was still stuck.
My next step was going to be the worst one: we were here for a family reunion and had around 50 people staying at my grandparents farm. Most of them were the industrious types and would be up around 6AM, but the night before happened to be July 4th, so we had all stayed up late setting off fireworks and the adults all got sloshed. I thought about who would be best to wake up: my kind but sometimes sarcastic grandmother, my pragmatic mother, my stern father, my taciturn grandfather, my doctor uncle, the cool aunt or the cool uncle. I decided my grandmother would be the best bet. She would definitely give me a stern talking to but it would be nothing like my parents. Better yet, she wouldn’t tell them unless she needed to.
I made the long walk back up to the main house and see my grandfather sitting outside smoking his pipe. My heart sank in fear; I hadn’t considered that someone might already be awake. My grandfather wasn’t mean, but he rarely talked. At that age, I was terrified because I had no idea how he would react. He could clearly tell I was terrified and ask what was wrong. I didn’t know how else to say it so I said “I caught myself” and turned around. The most unexpected thing followed: he burst out laughing. He assured me that it wasn’t a problem at all but that he needed to get my parents and doctor uncle.
Anyone can probably guess what happened next. Literally every member of my extended family was woken up to see the moron that caught himself fishing. Once I realized that I wouldn’t be in any trouble, I began to understand how funny it was.
My doctor uncle explained that he wasn’t that type of doctor and that I needed to go to the nearest ER—after all, I’d probably need tetanus shots and antibiotics since the hook was probably covered in nasty fish bacteria. We drove about an hour to get there (PA is huge wtf). The doctor there took some x rays of my head that confirmed the hook was only lodged in the skin but the bone was safe.
He then explained that he had to choose between pushing the barb through and making another hole or trying to pull the barb out from the initial hole. He decided the latter option was better. The only thing that hurt was the lidocaine injection beforehand. All I remember after that was my head rocking back and forth for 45 minutes as he slowly but forcefully removed the hook.
Today is almost 25 years since that happened. I like to keep my hair short and whenever I cut it, I get to see the scar as a reminder of how bad I am at fishing. It’s one of my favorite stories to tell. Also I ended up going into medicine, probably thanks to the kind ER doctor in rural Pennsylvania.
TL;DR 10 year old me tried to fish, hooked my own head, doctor removed it, still have the scar 25 years later
Inspired and reminded by another recent poster. Obligatory disclaimer that this happened last month.
I called an uber on a Wednesday morning heading for the airport. Where I live (not in a western country), it’s not a common thing to make small talk with strangers, neighbors or service staff - in fact, many may even find you annoying or invasive. But when I heard my driver greet me with fluent, American English, I thought to myself that it would be nice to have a change of scenery and decided to make some small talk.
Honestly, I was just in a bit of a chirpy mood as I hadn’t spoken to anyone in a while who spoke fluent English due to this project at work I was working on. I’m not the most stranger-friendly person usually, but I just wanted to start my dreaded trip off on a good note.
He expressed his excitement for me for this trip I was about to go on, so I joked with him that he could trade places with me, because I’m going on a 2 week business trip to an under-developed city in my country, where I can only understand 40% of what is said due to the heavy rural accent. When I told him where it was, to my shock, turns out my American uber driver used to also frequent this rural city (that does not speak a lick of English) for business trips.
Out of curiosity, I asked him what brought him here and what his story was. Over the course of the 45 min drive, he shared with me that he was a successful product management guy back in his 20s in LA, and part of his work included flying halfway across the world to this country to manage his offshore teams because he spoke the local language. On one of his trips here, he re-connected with an old friend who happened to have a burning ambition for starting his own restaurant. With a bit of money in his pocket from his lucrative corporate job, my uber driver decided to invest in his friend’s restaurant while leaving the management of it completely up to his friend.
The restaurant became a hot spot. It opened a couple more branches around town, and in a couple of years, IPO-ed and became public. My uber driver, who was still a majority stakeholder, decided to quit his corporate job and moved here 10+ years ago to enjoy his riches in dividends. He bought 2 multi-million dollar flats (very commonly found here), and at the peak of the restaurant’s performance when it was looking into international expansion, he took 2 collateralized loans against his properties and re-invested the money into the business, hoping it would be the last hurrah for him before early retirement.
Unfortunately, COVID hit right about then and the business took a big hit. It filed for bankruptcy, and my uber driver also lost all of his assets. He found a roommate, rented an old apartment in a much cheaper part of town, and having not worked a job in the last 15 or so years, had no other choice than to start driving uber while applying to jobs (with little luck). Uber gave him barely breakeven amounts in payout due to the high fuel consumption of his gasoline-run SUV. He felt guilty about not being able to support his aging parents as he had previously envisioned and planned
I tried encouraging him but I knew there was little I could do. When I got off the uber, I had this urge to just really let him know I was genuinely wishing him the best, so I decided to leave him a generous tip that would more importantly mean something in our culture. Where we are, tips are extremely uncommon and many see them as impolite/ offensive, however the number “8” means to wish you great fortune and riches.
So I went on the uber app, and decided to leave him a $88 tip while I was lining up at the check-in counter. 5 minutes elapsed and I didn’t see the $88 charge. Thinking it must’ve glitched out, I punched in a $88 tip again.
Suddenly my uber app showed I’d given a $176 tip, double of the $88. To be exact, it was $179.47 because of some additional questionable charge. Now, not only did I give more than double my intended tip amount, but I’ve completely lost the heartfelt message I was trying to send my driver. $179.47 in no way could even have been interpreted as a percentage or multiple of my total bill. I was standing in horror as I imagined my poor insulted driver thinking I was trying to stuff him an oddly specific and relatively large amount of cash out of pity.
I messaged uber support in my fury but they took a good couple of hours to reply me. In that time window, my driver had sent me a thank you and I felt it would be tasteless to decrease the tip. So I left it as it is and closed the support ticket
Bryan if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy the $179.47 and have quadrupled luck and fortune (88+88 for four 8s, although “4” also means to die in our local language but let’s just forget that part today)
TL;DR tried to send a message for encouragement to my uber driver for his TIFU, ended up giving away much more money than intended and possibly insulted my driver
this was a couple months ago but i wanted to say it here for a few reasons:
- i am too embarrassed to tell anyone in my life about this (its not that bad im just an idiot) as so ive been holding in all this anger and resentment
- ive come to terms with the fact that im an idiot
- im angry about it again
so basically a while back i got tickets to night 1 of a concert. the band playing had two nights booked back to back, both sold out. so i go to the first night and it is the best concert i have ever been to, the most fun ive ever had. the next morning i had severe post concert depression, so i was like ill just go to night 2 which was the day after the first concert.
so im looking for a single GA ticket as i have some friends who are also going and i was just going to tag along. i look on ticketmaster, tixel etc and cant find any GA tickets. i only need one and im desperate as i love this band. so i do what any rational person does, and go to the shthole that is twitter. i see a bunch of people posting that they are seling their tickets last minute and im messaging ALL of them trying to secure a ticket. mind you this is the first time ive ever done anything like this. no one is replying and i need this ticket like NOW. so i get a reply from a girl selling 6 tickets. i ask for 1, she says 1 is fine, its $80. im thinking thats a STEAL, as i got my ticket for the night before for $130. i think im being all smart being like "show me proof you have the ticket" and she sends a screenshot of teh ticket withe barcode blurred, obviously. and im like SWEET this girl is legit. and im thinking this is some girl in the same boat as me, just tryna sell her tickets! she doesnt wanna get scammed by me, SO I OFFER TO SEND THE $80 FIRST. I DONT KNOW WHY I DID THIS.
i send the money like an idiot and i send her a screenshot of the transaction and am like ok email me my ticket. she says it hasnt gone through for her. i take a deep breath because now its sinking in what i did. my bank says the transaction is 'pending' (as all transfers do for a little while). i tell her this and say it should go through at some point, but ive sent screenshots and screen recordings proving undeniably that it has gone through to her account. she will not give me thid damn ticket. she says "call the bank and ask them to realease it". now im an idiot, i think WONDERFUL PLAN. i call my bank and theyre like "you idiot, all transactions take 24hrs to go from pending to confirmed, duh! there is nothing we can do about it soz x". the concert is that night, so i tell her "listen, the bank says the money will go thru tomorrow, now give. me. my. goods. (the ticket)"
also i would like to add her texts are not great english and this is for a show in australia. now im not saying everyone who sells tickets has to have english as a first language but still now that im thinking ab it, another BRIGHT FCKING RED FLAG.
she still hangs onto the goods (the ticket). im thinking "LADY GIVE ME MY TICKET" but im being civil like "what do you need me to show u to prove this money has been paid???" and she goes "its because its the first time you transferred, send me another $80, itll go through straight away and then ill refund you $80 when the other transaction goes through". now. if this isnt the dumbest sht youve ever heard. i also agree, this is dumb. so im like"ok, lady. ill sen dyou $0.50 and if that goes through you know im the sht and you can SEND ME THE GOODS" she goes "no do the whole otehr $80"
now you are probably thinking THIS DUMB BTCH DID NOT SEND ANOTHER $80. and you would be right, i didnt sen danotehr $80. i sent $0.50. that didnt work, she wouldnt send the ticket. SO I FKN SENT THE EXTRA $80 LMAO. she ofc is like "it didnt go through, no ticket for you, ill refund you tomorrow when the money goes through"
at this point im down $160.50, i cant afford to buy a ticket off someone else, so the waterworks are coming. im a mess. a puddle. i put on my big girl pants and message her like, "thats fine i understand if teh money doenst go through you cant trust it <3 just refund me tomorrow, i hope you sell them in time! xx" now im sucking up so i get this refund right? i dont understad you btch. i dont hope you sell them. i hope you suck my fat one i hate you! anyway, its 5pm at this point, banks are closed. i think, in case she doesnt refund me, ill call the bank first thing tomorrow to try and cancel these 'pending transactions'.
i call the bank and theyre obviously like "why do you want to cancel these transactions?" i explain. theyre like "you dumb btch" im liek "i know" they say "we will send a request to her bank to cancel but no promises thats all we can do" i say "thank you" they can hear the shaky voice and i know that person was trying so hard not to laugh at my dumbass. i get it.
so later on the day after the concert that i MISSED (rip), the transaction goes through and is no longer pending. i message the girl being like "hey its no longer pending can you please send me this $160.50 (dont forget the $0.50). she says it hasnt gone through and she will when it goe sthrough. an hour goes by i say "hello? pls send!"
b l o c k e d.
tears.
now i work as a part time barista living on my own at uni accom. i want to die atp and honestly it was very likley as i was not going to eat for that month. a sacrifice i was willing to make for the concert, hwoever not a scarifice i was willing to make FOR THIS BTCH TO BUY YEEZYS OR WHATEVER BC SHE IS PROBABLY A NAZI IDK
whatever im sorry for the long rant but i want to say im an idiot. also the banks request to cancel my transaction failed.
i have her name from her bank details and screenshots of the entire converstaion of her scamming me on twitter (lol) but like idek if i can do anything ab it bc she blocked me and i willing transferred her the money its not like she stole my wallet so i cant like report her? plus no one in my life knows as im so ashamed of it so if i was togo to police i would definitley get ridiculed, rightfully so, by my family and friends.
i tried looking her name up literally everywhere so i could message her somehwere else but shes scrubbed clean :( idek what i would say tho.
i hate this girl so much, why would she do this to me :(
(i did this to myself. i hate myself)
sorry for the essay, i love you if you read this <3 (i still love you even if you didnt <3)
TL:DR i wanted concert tickets that cost $80. i paid a girl on twitter $160 for ONE ticket (like a dumbass) and then got blocked and poor :(
Not using a throwaway because fuck it, it doesn’t matter anymore. Also, did not happen today but rather about 2 weeks ago. This shit sucks.
So about a year ago, I (33,M) met a woman, let’s call her Sarah (26, F). We connected immediately. She’s the smartest and most attractive woman I have ever met. I couldn’t believe it at first. There’s no way she’s interested in me right? When we first met, we would spend hours on the phone talking, getting to know one another. The time would just fly by, it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.
It was the best first date I have ever had. The intimacy we began sharing with one another was incredibly special and I felt connected to her in a way I hadn’t with anyone else.
Sarah has been with me through some rough shit. I lost my father, she was the first person I called. Over the past year this person has been my emotional rock and support system. We share everything together.
She had also opened up to me about some difficult things in her past, some things she hadn’t really told anyone else before. That’s the kind of bond we shared: the closest of friends. Best friends. Intimate partners. The kind of thing you spend your whole life looking for.
Basically, she is fucking great. One of a kind. Genius level smart, gorgeous, absolutely hilarious…you name it.
On to the fuck up.
About 2 weeks ago I decided to share with her a conversation I had with someone on here that I thought was funny. Just some general, light trolling. Well, this provided my username.
She went through my history. She saw how right before I met her, I was asking girls for nudes in OF subs (hella cringe yes I know) This was incredibly stupid because they were all scams anyways. Wtf was I thinking?
I also in passing left a comment on a photo of a girl in r/faces saying “gorgeous”. I do not know what possessed me to do this, as I had no intention of messaging this girl and wasn’t even hitting on her. I had known Sarah for a few months at this point. Really stupid mistake.
She also saw me lie about a situation in my past and how I felt about an ex, in an effort to farm karma (also ridiculously stupid and cringe)
She blew up on me. Justifiably so. She then questioned whether or not she was just someone for me to sleep with and not someone I actually cared about. She assumed I was up to sketchy shit because I complimented a woman, so I must be a cheating asshole. She was convinced I had feelings still for someone that I broke up with, because I was being lame AF on here and trying to farm karma. Meaningless internet points. Does it get any more stupid than that?
Things aren’t the same anymore. We casually talk, sure. But the good morning texts? The intimacy we once shared? The sharing of our days and every crazy thought? All of that shit is gone. She flipped a switch and doesn’t view me the same anymore.
It’s doubtful—EXTREMELY unlikely—that things ever return to how they were. The thing that sucks? I haven’t and would never be unfaithful. I’ve never had eyes for someone else. I’ve never DM’d or flirted with anyone else. She’s had some stuff occur in her past that make it impossible to trust me again and believe me, and I guess I don’t blame her? I owned it as soon as called me out, I didn’t lie or make excuses. Still doesn’t matter.
I was really good to her for a long time. I’m not perfect and I definitely fucked up. Sarah, if you ever read this (unlikely) just know I’m so sorry. I’d spend a lifetime making it up to you if you’d let me, but I know I’ll probably never get the chance.
So don’t be like me. Don’t lie to try and farm karma. Don’t compliment strangers when you have an amazing gf. It has cost me my best friend, the woman I love most and the person I wanted a future with. 0/10, would not recommend.
TL;DR
Met an amazing woman. Fell in love. Sent her Reddit comment I made, she went through my post history. Saw me asking for nudes before I met her, saw me lie online saying I had feelings for an ex for karma, and saw me compliment a woman’s appearance. Relationship now fractured and unlikely to repair itself.
Hey everyone, I’m fairly new to writing on Reddit so please don’t mind my following mistakes. Today I(20f) fucked up by throwing my life away. This has been a slow boil since I was 16 but today it all finally hit today. For some background I’m a Haitian immigrant from the 2010 earthquake and was undiagnosed with ADHD, depression, PTSD and anxiety until last year with ADHD still being left undocumented due to the lack of psychological help in my city. Up until I was 16, I was a high achieving academic student with a somewhat strong social circle. My family wasn’t necessarily poor compared to some but definitely below middle class. My academics started failing shortly after receiving my first c in a college class during my freshman year, but I was able to still maintain a high academic standing but lost my ability to stay motivated. I fail another class into my sophomore year and once covid hit had failed another class.
Covid had heavily impacted my families finances and I started working full time while also being a full time dual enrollment student. Without understanding the affects of my adhd, I quickly lost my abilities to hold routines, complete simple task work and just got burnt out. REALLY BAD. I barely scraped through my final Highschool/college semester and failed to graduate with an associates degree like my fellow peers. I always understood that there was something just wrong with me but had lacked the skills to properly communicate and I was honestly scared of communicating what I was going through. I spent most of my Highschool afternoons crying into a pillow and hiding from my family, taking psychological tests just trying to understand why I couldn’t just feel anything anymore besides negative emotions.
I continued to work through the summer leading up to college, and got into a habit of partying where I got introduced to weed, sex and alcohol. I was in a long distant toxic relationship, my home town best friend had a psychotic breakdown and had to leave during the first semester. I couldn’t leave my dorm and didn’t even know how to reach out or what to even say. I try to reach out for psychiatric help but was unable to afford it. I got pregnant twice in December and found out through miscarriages both times. I tried to push myself to at least do better during the second semester but quickly fell back to my depressive habits and failed in the end. I was academically suspended, and spent my summer suffering panic attacks, and extreme social anxiety which helped push my ability to get psychiatric help. After months of talking to doctors and therapist they still couldn’t pinpoint my issues and I failed to properly communicate what was actually going on. I spent my time cultivating better routines, better support and discipline over motivation. I tried self medicating but still found myself unable to open up, unable to get up, unable to do the simplest things. I pushed myself so hard just to try to get some part of my life on track. I took positivity and relaxation training, was able to finally get some strong supportive bonds with friends and family. But I failed.. I couldn’t get my financial aid help appealed on time, I failed all of my classes and received my dismissal letter today. My student account has 15k debt for the semester and I don’t even have the strength to say anything to my mom because I know we can’t afford it. Everything I’ve tried setting up for myself has all failed, the job I had lined up to start this summer cancelled my shift this morning as well. I’ve lost my friends at home because of my social withdrawals and negligence. I just tried to reach out to my therapist and was informed I was no longer able to see her due to my lost coverage since I’m now 20. I had aspirations to help my family here and those back in my country, I had the potential to be better, a bright future and I finally realized I threw it all away.
TL;DR: TIFU by throwing my life away due to negligence. I failed out of college, lost my job opportunity, lost my friends and therapist and now the potential of my family.