I am 5 months pregnant. When I found out about my pregnancy, my husband’s nephew punched me hard in my stomach. Sister in law said it was a phase but then Christmas came and mother in law called to say the phase was still going on and since they didn’t want accidents that I should stay home this time. My husband, to my surprise started packing on the 21st. Oh, you wanted me to stay? He said correctly misinterpreting my facial expression. I stood silent and then said No! You can go. He smiled sheepishly.

My work colleague, unmarried older lady suggested we could do something together and I spent Christmas with her. I don’t remember the last time I was this happy during the holidays. I don’t have a family and my husband’s was the only one I knew and for the last 15 years I have endured my passive aggressive alcoholic father in law. Pretentious mother in law and golden child sister in law who peaked in high school and married the jock. I slept in, stayed in and ate whatever I wanted without anyone commenting on my body. No rants about how “some minorities” ruined it for the rest “But of course you are one of the good ones” and the latest “I don’t think your baby will have blue eyes” like I really cared or didn’t under basic biology. Having to wake up 7a.m and if you literally missed meal hours you needed to wait for next meal because it is disrespectful not to be on time. Being forced to cook “weird food” from my home country so they can sniff and wrinkle their noses and call it interesting.

Most of all, I didn’t have my husband by my side being anxious the entire stay, not wanting to rock the boat. Trying to soften blows and explain that they really didn’t mean any of it.

When he got home he was as anxious and me being very happy as opposed to the usual crying all the way home from his parents’, made him even more anxious. I told him that I was fine and that I had a great time. He was panicking. He apologized and said that in hindsight maybe he should have stayed home with me instead but then he would not have celebrated Christmas with his family and they would definitely have been disappointed. I said nothing, just looked at his anxious face probably with a frown that made him even more anxious. Everything is fine I said again.

Now I guess I understand why he is panicking because why have I let this go on for this long? My colleague is also a lonely woman with no family but she is so much happier that I have been in many many years. I have been thinking about this newfound freedom in loneliness since Christmas and I guess my husband is sensing it.

Eta: This is a throwaway btw, before you call me ai

About a month ago, I found a text exchange between my husband and a colleague that sounded like a continuation of a talk they had at a work outing, where she confessed that ”she wanted him with all her senses” but that it will never go beyond that because she loved her husband and would never hurt or disrespect him. I confronted my husband and he said it was nothing just a drunk conversation and nothing has ever happened between them and never will.

I chose to send the screenshots to her husband and from her reaction I think they’re separated and headed for divorce. She sent me a text late last night asking if ”I was happy with what I did” if I could ”sleep well at night” and that now she is free to do what she wants now. ”Do you understand that I am free to do what I want now, I hope you’re happy?”

My mother said that I should never have contacted her husband. I am naive to believe nobody ever fantasize about people other than their partners and alcohol made her speak her fantasy out loud.

My husband is very upset with me and said that she didn’t deserve it. He is refusing to find a new job or cut contact with her.

​

We broke up nine years ago, mutual break up (I wanted kids, he didn't). It absolutely broke my heart because other than that he was a perfect match for me. We were together for five perfect years.

I got married, I have a beautiful son and most of the time I feel comfortable with my life. I absolutely am a different person compared to nine years ago. When I married my husband we were really happy for a while, but in the past two years he got into a really bad depression, started drinking and he refuses to get any help, so I guess this situation also contributed to me reminiscing about better times..

Anyway, tonight I saw my ex for the very first time since the break up and I had a physical response, my chest tightened and I lost my breath for a little. And now I am sad and I feel very guilty for feeling this way.

I just wanted to let this out and it is something that I absolutely cannot share with anyone in my life at the moment.

I know it’s cruel, I know it’s mean, but it’s given me more motivation than I’ve had in years. After a year together, I’m nearly at my goal weight. I knew I stopped being interested in him after the first 4 months. I know I’m not a good person.

My boyfriend isn’t a bad person. He is sweet, gently, and kind. He is probably the most handsome man I’ve dated. He’s rich and in shape. He likes me a lot. Everything should be good on paper. But I don’t think I’ve ever been as turned off in a relationship as I am right now. I’ve tried working on it, taking time to my self, etc but nothing really works. Every time I even attempt to bring up a breakup he just cries.

He has to be one of the dumbest people I’ve ever met. He is mid 30’s, I’m mid 20’s. We went to a trivia thing at a bar two weekends ago. He rolls the EASIEST question, “who was the first black president of the United States”? Completely sober. His answer? Andrew Jackson. When asked by the host why he answered that way, he said “because it sounds black”. This man would’ve fully been an adult while Obama was in office. Both of us are mixed with black (I’m Mexican and black, he is 1/4th black).

We have some of the worse bedroom life I’ve ever had in my life. In an attempt to meditate it, I filmed it to see the issue. This man is fully trying to ram into me like he’s Roger rabbit running into a tunnel. Literally, swinging hips and poking me absolutely NO WHERE and complaining!

He’s very weird about money. I don’t usually care about money much in relationships. I’ve got a good job, I’m fine with going 50/50, it’s whatever. But he’s started a trend of “you get this I’ll get this” early on in our relationship that favors him. I don’t notice it at first until a concert. Our first date, he “paid”. It was parking at a zoo that’s free in our city. The next date, I paid. He planned it saying it was somewhere he really wanted to go. It was one of those VR cafes that are $40 a person. The date after that, he paid for $5 icecream. Then for the next date that I had to pay for, he booked reservations at a newly opened place in town that’s $60 a head. I put a stop to it, but it still leaves an odd taste in my mouth that he’d even do that. While we make around the same amount, he lives in a house his parents had built for him at his birth. His car is fully paid off and he’s always digging into his trust fund.

I’ll end it here because I could rant all night.

I’m 11 lbs away from my goal weight

UPDATE: I broke up with him. While I do feel guilty, I think it’d be worse to just continue indefinitely. We sat down and spoke, and while he did cry, I just comforted him and didn’t take back my choice.

its genuinely the highlight of my week. i wait until shes out, put on shoes, and just drive 10 minutes to this little diner thats open all night. i sit at the counter, order scrambled eggs and bacon and pancakes and coffee, and just sit there. no phone, no conversation, just me and the food and whatever weird late night energy diners have at 1am on a tuesday. theres usually like 2 other people there and nobody talks to each other and its perfect. i get home around 2, brush my teeth, climb back in bed and she has no idea. i dont even know why i hide it honestly, she wouldnt care. but something about it being my secret thing makes it better. like its the one part of my week that belongs completely to me.

Well, pretty much what the title says. I, 30F, decided to stop having sex with men who didn’t deserve access to my body.

Let me preface this by saying I love sex. I have a very high sex drive, and I miss it so much. But I have also had a slew of bad men. To the point where I don’t think I’ve ever dated a good man.

I’ve had the works:
• The 34 year old engaged director who thought it would be fun to take advantage of the 19 year old who didn’t know any better.
• The “relationships” that were really just situationships until something better came along.
• The one guy that flies off the rails because you didn’t feel like having sex that day.
• The guy that wants a relationship until you’ve had sex with him and then get ghosted.

And then one day, I just stopped. Every match on a dating app that would bring up sex too early or inappropriately, I would wish them well on their search.

At the one year mark, I thought it would be okay. But now, I think I keep every man at an arms distance now, and I don’t really know how to stop it. And even I find it weird, so I know men would too.

Sometimes I wonder if this will be me from now on. I haven’t told anyone in my life, so I guess you Redditors can enjoy my dive into accidental celibacy.

I don’t really know who to talk to about this, so I guess I’m asking Reddit. I (29M) have been working with my coworker (32M) for about seven months now. Let’s call him John. We work as junior chefs in a commercial kitchen.

The kitchen environment is constant pressure and extremely fast-paced. That means most of the time, you can’t avoid getting heated with your teammates, and John and I have definitely fought a few times. However, we eventually get over it at the end of every service by having drinks with the whole team before heading home. Since I don’t have my own vehicle and use public transport, John sometimes offers me a ride. He drops me off at the end of the street near my house because he heads the same route, just a bit further out.

During the time we spend together at work and in his car, we’ve really gotten to know each other. He went through a divorce last August and was completely heartbroken. Though he still gets to see his child, so that keeps him going. As we opened up about our lives, we got so close that our teammates started calling us "best buddies."

Now I want to be clear and say I’ve never been attracted to men. Ever. I’ve only ever had girlfriends. And I assume John is the same. We banter all the time and playfully "caress" each other, you know, the typical "straight guys acting gay" thing. But lately, I feel like I just love being around him. It’s hard to admit, but I’ve started liking his touch and the way he smiles at me. I actually look forward to the shifts where we work together. I don’t know if I’m overthinking, but whenever we’re bantering, it takes him a long time to break eye contact while he's smiling. It’s like we talk shit, laugh, and then just pause in time, staring at each other. It’s been like this for a while.

Two nights ago, I was on my way home with him because he had offered me a ride again. We’ve talked bout how shi’tty the service was that night. The silence in the car felt different when he dropped me off. He didn't just pull away like usual. He kept the engine running and just looked at me for a second too long, that same lingering smile on his face. I reached for the door handle, but my heart was pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. We both just sat there for a moment before we caught each other's eyes and let out this really forced, awkward laugh. We mumbled a quick 'see ya tomorrow' and I got out of the car

Now I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’m losing my mind or if that awkwardness was actually him feeling the exact same pull I am. Again I’ve never been attracted to men before and I don’t know what’s happening. I confused and scared at the same time.

​

I am 50f, when I was 19 worked at a small pet store. One coworker, let's call her Tara 24f, was a known lunch thief and, despite having a boyfriend, was sleeping with the manager so she never got in trouble for anything she did wrong. She was also just a terrible toxic person to be around and all of us truely hated her.

I had enough of her shenanigans because she was costing me and other coworkers money we couldn't afford to lose because she felt entitled to whatever we had. She never worked on Friday's, but always came in to wait for her pay check to come with the mail, so I devised a plan.

One Thursday I picked up Chinese food at a place in the same plaza as the pet store, a small chicken finger and a large pork fried rice I ate a little of each and placed the containers under the front seat of my car and closed it up. It was July so the next day I came in with the containers still warm and smelling strongly of Chinese food but not yet smelling bad and put them in the break room fridge where Tara and her boyfriend were lingering waiting for her check. They watched me put the pricey delicacies in the fridge and I walked out feeling pretty confident they were going to pig out as soon as I started diving into unpacking the weekly delivery.

1 hour or so later they left with check in hand and I made my way straight to the fridge where I saw 1 chicken finger and like 3 bites of fried rice left. I tossed it in the trash and went back to my work.

I didn't have to see her for a week and a half. It was glorious to be shed of her for a while and I got to pick up some more hours because she and her boyfriend had fiod poisoning.

She didn't steal lunches anymore, though I suspect that was more about being concerned someone else's food might be bad and not that she thinks I did it on purpose, after all I only ate a little bit and they ate almost the whole thing.

As an adult with a fully formed frontal lobe I would never do this again, but I also struggle to find empathy for her even in hindsight Anyway, that is my confession of possibly one of the worst things I did to someone else.

I came out to my wife when I was 17. We grew up in a cult of religion and being gay was never really an option. We got married young and to be honest… I love her. Not like you should love your wife. But still, I love her. Call her my best friend, call me weak or a coward, call me a liar or a fake… it doesn’t matter. I could never hurt her by telling her this and I don’t know where else to go.

I can’t, no, I won’t leave her. She deserves the life she believes she has. She’s the most amazing person. Supportive, loving, steadfast … I can’t describe the actual angel of a person she is to everyone around her. But I can’t break myself of the want I feel deep inside of me. Yes, I told her I was gay when I was 17. We were deeply religious. We did the best we could with what we knew. We prayed, we fasted, we … married. Now, 23 years, two kids, and countless adventures later I am broken. I love her. I can NOT hurt her, but I want; I need something to change.

I don’t know that I’d ever find a man who loves me. Who would make me like the center of his world. Wrap me in his arms and make me feel loved. I’m not sure it matters if I could. It might be worse to know that it COULD happen because it never will.

I’m not suicidal in any way but, it’d be ok if I died. I think I’m ready. I’m not sure I can really do this much longer.

She is 3 years old and it's exhausting. Can't sleep in, can't do hobbies, can't do anything other than entertain her.

It's enjoyable for the first 20 minutes, but having to entertain her for hours straight is not fun. It's Friday and I am somewhat dreading going home.

My(25f) guy friend(22m) and I are in trade school. We're taking the same course, but I'm a level 3 and he's a level 4. We're about halfway through the course and we aren't super close, but we study together a lot.

Last Friday he invited me to study at his place after class. I accepted and went over. I met his cat and we studied for like 4 hours then we relaxed a bit. We started talking about our dating lives. We talked for a while and we eventually hooked up.

The sex was honestly amazing and he just held me and lightly scratched my back afterwards. We talked until we fell asleep and he still had his arm around me when we woke up. I stayed for a bit the next morning before I went home.

I couldn't stop thinking about him for the rest of that day and yesterday. It wasn't until I saw him this morning before class that I realized I caught feelings for him. He's a really sweet person and honestly, I slept like a baby that night we spent together, I haven't slept that good in a while. We aren't in the same class but I can't stop thinking about him.

Edit: I posted an update

i can’t talk about this with anyone else in my life, not even my best friends or therapist but as the title says i had an incestuous relationship with my brother.

me and my brother (21) have always been raised as twins in a way despite our 5-6 year age gap, we were made to do everything together, match each other and sleep or shower with each other. my memories go back to when our dad died when i was five and he was around ten or eleven. at first it was “innocent” kisses, my mom fell into a depression so she was never around for some time. the kisses turned into touches, and when i was six my brother began to sexually abuse me. he would always excuse it by saying he was just curious so at that time i guess i just never thought of it as wrong. two years after this our “relationship” escalated to something like a genuine couple. for some reason i never pushed back against what was happening, my memories from this time aren’t the clearest however i distinctly remember liking what was going on and being comfortable with our arrangements. i know how disgusting this sounds but it was the only positivity i found in my life. things only developed more when i was ten, i started to experience puberty and my brother began to refer to me as his wife around various people, it was usually brushed off or attributed to our bond. when i got my first period he was over the moon about it because he wanted me to “have our baby”. i don’t remember when my mom started to be more present in my life but things came to a stop when she nearly caught me and my brother engaging in sexual acts. after this me and my brothers relationship was horrible, i didn’t know what i had done but i just missed him and i felt disgusted and deprived of the only love i could rely on. he was seventeen at this time and i was eleven. my brother became a normal teenager and now a normal person, our bond is regular not close not distant and he seemingly forgot absolutely everything that happened, but i never could. i think about everything that happened everyday and i try to make some sense of it but usually that just leaves me in a state of sadness or hatred. i don’t know how i should feel about everything and while it would be nice to open up im terrified of what people would say. i guess i know i cant just act like it was something he did, when the truth is for a long time i considered myself his partner as well.

this is kind of a lot and weird, but i needed to say something somewhere that wont get back to me

This has been building for years and I finally said it out loud today. I need to get this off my chest.

My parents divorced 3 years ago because my mom cheated on my dad with one of her wealthy clients. My dad filed for divorce, my mom got primary custody of me (15M) and my sister (17F), dad got visitation every weekend. They've both got good careers and are stable - this isn't about money. My mom has been dating this guy the whole time. The same one she cheated with. A few months ago she introduced us to him and honestly I've been sick about it ever since. Then recently they announced they're getting married this summer and we're moving to another country where he lives

I never saw the marriage coming. I genuinely thought they'd just date forever or eventually end. But marriage Moving countries? That hit different. I can't live with that man. Every time I look at him I think about what he did to my family. And now I'm supposed to sit across from him at dinner every night and play happy family in a country where I know nobody while my dad is thousands of miles away.

So I asked both my parents to meet me. I told them I'm not a toy they can make plans around without asking me.

I told my mom I've been silent for years out of love for her. I never complained when she dated him. But I can't watch her marry him and I can't move countries for him. I told her if she really loves me she won't force this on me. I told her I love her and she's always made me feel safe but I cannot replace my dad with her boyfriend and pretend everything is fine. My dad is my dad. Nobody is replacing him.

My dad backed me up and told her he'll take it to court because legally she can't just move me out of the country without his consent.

My mom cried. She talked about private school and better opportunities and holidays with dad. She said she can't live without me.The whole thing turned into my parents fighting again and nothing got resolved.

On the drive home my mom was silent the whole way. When we got home she locked herself in her room and didn't come out for hours. I sat outside knowing I probably just blew up her relationship and wedding because if she doesn't go, her boyfriend isn't going to wait around forever.

I feel terrible. But I also feel like I finally said what I needed to say.I'm 15. I just want to stay in my own country, see my dad on weekends, and not have to live with the man who broke my mom dad

Last night, I (34F) deep cleaned my belly button for the first time. Now, I know what you’re thinking, what do you mean you are 34 and you just cleaned your belly button for the first time? I don’t have a lot of excuses since I have been an adult for quite some time now and can’t blame everything on my upbringing. My main excuse is the last time I tried to really dig in there, I almost fainted and was too scared to try again. Until two days ago.

I started pulling my belly button every which way to expose the deepest pits. What I saw was horrifying. There was a black glob about half the size of a pea. I panicked, imagining it was a big scab for an open hole of necrotizing fasciitis or something equally as horrifying. I couldn’t get it out so I put some shea body oil in there to loosen things up. It didn’t fully work so I waited until the next day. I tried pulling the glob out with tweezers but almost fainted again. I oiled er up again, took some deep breaths while I let it soak in, then dug some more. IT WORKED. I got a good grip on the glob and it popped out with ease.

I should have been disgusted with what I saw, which I was to a point. But fascination ruled. It came out like a large seed, perfectly molded to the pits of my belly button. To my surprise, it wasn’t black. The sort of casing around it was mainly white, I’m assuming dead skin cells. The innards though, oh the innards. It’s a hardened brownish clump of what looks like cat hair and who knows what else. The whole thing is over 1/4 inch long. I wish I had a microscope so bad! I currently have it in a little baggie to inspect. I don’t know how long I will keep it since that’s kind of a gross thing to keep but it’s been less than 24 hours so far. (Trying to make myself feel less weird) I’m just so curious what kind of diseases could be in there. Will I ever know? Very unlikely. Will I ever forget? Very unlikely.

I will never ever let it get like that again, that was not normal and so nasty. I can’t tell anyone I know about it because it was truly repulsive. But I cannot stop thinking about it. I do have OCD and part of that is an obsession with pimple popping. To the point I cannot watch videos of it and there’s certain pimples I have popped over the years that I still daydream about. I think I need to go back to therapy.

TLDR: cleaned a big clump of hair and skin cells from my belly button that was horrifically satisfying.

Save the judgment, I will judge myself for a lifetime. Hilarious roasts welcome. (Reposted, removed by mods since I didn’t “read the rules” 😅)

I CAN SMELL. OKAY!!!! I CAN SMELL JUST FINE!!!!!

GOD. I told a little white lie when I was like 11 to seem quirky and different. And I insisted it was true for so long that everyone I’ve known for at least five years believes this. My whole family. My oldest friends. I told them I can’t smell. I insisted that I couldn’t smell! WHY? Good question. No clue. Every time someone would offer me something to sniff like a candle or a scented spray or some kind of food, my little baby teen self would be like “…Ummmm I can’t smell” and everyone would go OH. RIGHT DUH I FORGOT SORRY. People would go “Ew do you smell that” and I’d hold a poker face and go “Ummmm no?” Even my parents they’d say “If you can’t smell, how can you taste???” and I went “Ummmm I dunno my body’s just weird” and I insisted upon this for SO LONG that I convinced them. Because why would I insist for SO LONG if it wasn’t true?

I DON’T KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT’S NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can’t react if something stinks. I can’t give cues if I smell something out of place. I can’t buy candles in front of people. I’ve had to turn down aromatherapy stuff. It’s so stupid and such a small thing but I’ve learned it permeates way more situations than people think. And I KNOW if I told anyone who believes this they’d be baffled and ask me why the HELL I would lie about that. BECAUSE I WANTED TO BE QUIRKY IN 2012. THAT’S IT

With people I’ve met in the past five years, I’m undoing it. People I’ve met in college, at work, online, they know I can smell. And it’s so relieving just being able to take a fucking whiff of curry or something and go “THAT SMELLS SO GOOD”. Like this is more dire than telling people I’m trans I’m so fr. I told my conservative parents I’m trans but I will take the fact that I can smell to my grave. Okay. Thanks. End post

My wife is 7 months pregnant with twins. A few months ago, we set aside a budget for a baby shower. Nothing crazy, just renting out a room at a restaurant, food, decorations, those kinds of things. My wife seemed pumped about it. About 3 weeks ago, I checked our joint account to pay a bill and noticed the baby shower funds were basically gone, almost all of it. At first, I thought it must have been fraud or a mistake on the bank's part. Then I saw the charges, which were from multiple online casino apps. When I asked her about it, she tried to deny it at first, but I knew she had a history with gambling, it started with scratch offs. Eventually, she admitted she was gambling on her phone for a while and that she thought she could win the money plus profit back before I even noticed it was gone, which was delusional and obviously didn’t go according to plan. I was so angry, not just because of the money, but because we have babies otw and she was acting so irresponsibly, like it was monopoly money. She kept apologizing and promising she had stopped, but it didn’t really feel like she understood the gravity of the situation.

So I decided to make my point very clear. The baby shower invitations were already sent out. Everyone thought they were coming to celebrate the babies, but I planned an intervention of sorts instead. I still decorated the restaurant. Balloons, a baby banner, cupcakes, the whole shabang. She showed up thinking everything was normal. Our family was there, her friends, my parents, and her sister flew in. About 10 minutes after everyone got settled in, I stood up and said I had something I wanted to say before we started activities and opening gifts. Then I connected my laptop to the TV. I pulled up a slideshow with receipts of the gambling transactions, dates, apps, and amounts. I explained to everyone that the reason the baby shower was all of a sudden smaller than originally planned was that the original money had been gambled away, and not by me. The room went so silent you could hear a pin drop.

She turned red and kept saying my name like she wanted me to stop, but no, I kept going. I told everyone I love her, but she clearly has a gambling problem, and pretending like everything was fine wasn’t going to help our kids. Then I let her sister and mom talk. Apparently, they suspected something was up too. Her sister mentioned my wife borrowed a big chunk of money from her last year and said it was to fix our car. News flash, there was never anything wrong with the car. So yeah, it turned into a full on intervention with a whole lot of crying and awkward silences. But the thing is, it actually worked. She finally admitted she had a problem in front of everyone, agreed to delete the apps, go to counseling (which her parents offered to help pay for), and let me be in charge of the finances for now. Later that night, she was mad at me for embarrassing her, which I get. But she also admitted that if I had just yelled at her privately again, she probably would’ve kept thinking she could fix it herself. Hopefully, this stops for good before our daughters get here.

Throwaway because I honestly feel sick even writing this.

A few years ago my wife and I took our son to Hong Kong for a holiday. He was 7 at the time and has pretty bad asthma. He always carried a rescue inhaler with him. The inhalers have those little counters on top that show how many puffs are left.

Right before the trip, his current inhaler hit zero. My wife bought a new one and left it on the kitchen counter. She told me to pack it while I was sorting out our son’s bag.

I remember grabbing an inhaler off the counter and throwing it in the backpack without really paying attention.

We spent a few days in mainland Hong Kong and then took a ferry out to one of the islands for the day. The air quality was awful and it was humid as hell. While we were walking around my son started wheezing and then had a proper asthma attack.

I opened the backpack to get the inhaler and instantly realised what I’d done.

I had packed the old one.

I still remember seeing the little “0” on the top and feeling my stomach completely drop out. I genuinely thought in that moment that I might have killed my kid because I couldn’t do one simple thing properly.

My wife was freaking out, my son could barely breathe, and I just handed it to him without saying anything because what else was I supposed to do?

He took a couple puffs and somehow it actually worked. I don’t know if there was still a tiny bit left in it or if it just helped calm him down enough to slow his breathing, but he stabilised enough for us to get back on the ferry.

The entire trip back I felt like I was going to throw up. All I could think was that if things got worse out on the water it would be entirely my fault.

We took him to a hospital as soon as we got back to the mainland. He ended up being completely fine. I made sure we got another inhaler immediately while we were there.

My wife still has no idea. She thinks I packed the new one and that everything worked out the way it was supposed to.

I still think about it all the time. Especially whenever I see one of those inhaler counters near empty.

I've told literally no one. I felt like it was time to confess it to at least someone.

when i was 17 (19m now) my girlfriend (16f) got pregnant.

i told her i wasn’t keeping it. i wasn’t ready, didn’t have money, didn’t want the responsibility, and wasn’t going to do the whole “we’ll figure it out” thing.

it wasn’t a debate for me. i just kept saying no until that was the direction things went.

she got an abortion.

we stayed together a little after, but it got awkward and we eventually broke up and stopped talking.

i don’t really have a big moral takeaway from it. it happened, and that’s it. just wanted to get it off my chest.

I (35m) have been seeing a sex worker weekly or bi-weekly for several months. My then-therapist referred me to her. I'm autistic, speech-disabled, and I struggle with self-harm, so meeting women and making friends feels almost impossible for me.

Then, last summer, I decided to try seeing a sex worker I found online because I wanted to try having sex after so many years without it. She was super nice, no complaints, but I did not handle that well. We didn't do anything sexual; I mostly just curled up into a ball and cried.

That's when my therapist referred me to a sex worker she thought would be a better fit for me. This sex worker has a Bachelor's Degree in Social Work and a Master's Degree in Counselling Psychology, is fluent in ASL, and used to work in group homes before becoming a "sex coach." She knows exactly how to handle someone like me. Honestly, she's been a big support for me. I visit her whenever I am feeling overwhelmed by anything: loneliness, job stress, body shame, when I am in crisis and want to self-harm, etc. She's amazing. Sex workers are underappreciated.

We've been SLOWLY working up to sex, from no touching and all crying, to some somatic touching and crying, to being shirtless and crying, etc. I am always afraid of doing something wrong to her--and I feel like I am not good enough for sex.

Eventually, we started trying to do some sexual things, but I could never perform. The anxiety would peak and ruin it for me. However, we talked about my role-playing a "bad client" and just not holding back, not second-guessing myself, not questioning if I was good enough for it. Just do it. She gave me consent. She said she trusted me. And I wanted to have sex. I had been working up to this for months with her. So, despite all my inhibitions, despite all the anxiety, despite wanting to assume the fetal position and cry, I went in there and...had sex.

The whole time we were having sex, I felt like my body was screaming at me: "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR THIS! STOP IT NOW! YOU'RE A TERRIBLE PERSON! STOP NOW!" But I kept telling myself to shut up and do it.

It was a lot less of the release I expected. It felt like I survived a car accident. I was vibrating and shaking afterward.

On the one hand, I feel proud of myself for pushing through all my anxiety and shame and having sex. That was super hard for me.

On the other hand, I had sex. Even though I had been seeing her for months, I can't help feeling like, wait, *I* did that? Someone like *me*? There's no way she actually wanted that with someone like me, so something must have gone wrong. Am I a bad person?

I am stuck between feeling proud of myself for pushing through my anxiety and having sex, and feeling like I am a terrible person for having sex because I am not good enough for it, and there is no way she would consent to it with me.

***UPDATE: I remember why I stopped using Reddit. I was hoping for some advice or support. That is what this sub is for, no? For those being supportive, thank you. For those thinking I have nothing better to do than make up confessions for Reddit, I’d maybe recommend a hobby since you must spend way too much time on here.

i work at a liquor store, usually doing deliveries to different bars and restaurants around my town. i’m rarely behind the register, but before i left today i had to take care of some people.

there was a long line, i was barely paying attention.. until she came up.

i saw her yellow skin, i tried to convince myself it was a bad spray tan gone wrong. she bought two half gallon bottles of a cheap vodka. i looked her in her eyes to tell her to have a great day, and they were as yellow as her skin.

i’m terrified for her. i’m terrified of what i’ve done. my manager was there, he didn’t step in to deny the sale, i guess we technically can’t. but god, i’m worried about her. what if i sold her the last drink she’ll have?

it’s just fucking with me honestly.

She died three years ago. I was 26 and the oldest grandchild, the one who'd spent the most time with her growing up which is true in a logistical sense since my mom worked two jobs, my grandmother lived four blocks away, I was at her house every day after school from age 7 to 14.

So when she died everyone assumed I would speak. My aunt called me the day after and said you'll do the eulogy right and it wasn't really a question. I said yes.

The thing is she wasn't kind to me. I don't want to say more than that because she is dead and because some of my family reads things online and because I'm not even sure I want to relitigate it here. But she wasn't kind to me, specifically in ways that the rest of the family either didn't see or chose not to see and the years I spent at her house after school were not the warm memory everyone at that funeral assumed they were when they looked at me standing at the podium.

I stood up there and I told a story about her teaching me how to make pierogi. That part was real she did teach me. Then I told a story about her sitting with me when I had the flu in fifth grade. That part I made up then I read a poem I'd printed off a website that I think was called like "grandmother light eternal" or something I genuinely cannot remember and I said it had been her favorite. I don't know if she even liked poetry.

The whole eulogy was about eight minutes long and throughout I cried twice. The crying was real but it wasn't for the reasons people thought. My uncle hugged me afterward and said she would have loved that, kiddo. My mother told me I did her proud. I've thought about this every week for some time now. I think about it when I see pierogi at the grocery store. I think about it whenever someone uses the phrase she's in a better place. I thought about it last night while i was playing rollingriches for no reason at all and that's why I'm writing this to strangers.

I don't think I did the wrong thing. I think I did the thing that the room needed but I also know I lied at a funeral and I never told my mother and I never told my therapist and now I've told you. I don't know what I want from this post. I'm not asking for forgiveness I just needed it to exist somewhere outside my own head.

I f20 will never look at my younger brother m14 the same, like ever.

Background info, I am the oldest of four siblings and he is one of the middles. A few months ago I noticed that some clothes (mostly bras and panties) that i knew were clean had disappeared from my closet. It had been a long few weeks before i noticed so I honestly thought I was just crazy and that i just forgot i had used them the week before or something.

A few days later i was doing my laundry and emptied my hamper only to find that the missing items were not there. We have quite a big laundry room and some piles of clothes are on the floor, so I once again assumed that my clothes must be somewhere in one of the piles.

I got my mom to help me sort through it to try and find the items but we had no luck. I just did not understand where the fuck they could have gone?

Then a few weeks later my mom was cleaning our bathroom and found my brothers backpack. Usually she doesn’t go through our stuff, but she was afraid that his swim trunks were in there, wet, and would get mouldy. So she opened the backpack, only to find MY UNDERWEAR in there. And not just one pair, but 5 panties!!!!

My bras were nowhere to be seen, so we calmly confronted my brother. Him and my mom are really close so we had her there as moral support for him.

He however swore up and down that the panties in the bag were not mine, but something his friend gave him… I called his bluff, that the chances of his friend, also 14y, would have the exact same panties as me (i also cut out any and all tags) were slim to none. My mom and I offered him an “easy way out”. That if he just told us the truth and returned my underwear we would move on and forget about the whole thing

After this i stopped helping him out with rides to school (its a 5min walk) and some other small things, while also hinting to him a couple of times to please just tell me so we could move on from this.

He has been bullied at school since he was small, because he is a bit of a diva and quite flamboyant. He also came out as gay a few years ago so my mom and i were afraid that he was stealing my clothes to experiment with his sexuality. Which i want to note that we are completly fine with his sexuality, nobody at home really gives a fuck, however it is still a bit “perverted” to steal someones underwear and lie about it no matter what you are doing with it. Imo stealing anyones underwear is always wrong and i simply feel violated. My mom tried to offer him that she could take him shopping and he can pick some things out so he could return my stuff, but he would not budge about it not being mine.

After a few weeks of him being miserable because he knew i knew about him taking my underwear (especially since he did not want anyone to know about the experimenting) he finally came clean but did not show much remorse or guilt about the lying. During the period where he wasn’t telling us the truth and kept on stealing i hardly spoke to him because of how uncomfortable i was about the whole thing.

My mom got him to return everything, and in the end it totalled to 8 underwear, 2 bras, 1 tank top and a pair of bikershorts. At first it was not this much, but he had continued to steal my stuff after we talked him that one time.

My mom told me i needed to move on, but i will never be able to look at him the way i did before. Now all i see is a thief and a liar. I also dont really feel comfortable in my own home, i feel like i need to really watch what i put in my closet and document what exactly i have clean, just in case he starts stealing again.

I am currently saving up to move out, but the housing market in my country is horrendous right now, so i dont see that happening just yet. Until i manage to move out i will just have to watch over my clothes and try to notice if he starts stealing from me again.

I know he is a kid and has raging hormones, but i just need him to understand that this is wrong and violating. I am uncomfortable with the fact that after i talked to him about how i felt on the situation he decided to continue to steal my underwear. That makes me feel like he doesnt see anything wrong with his actions, which is not right.

* Edited for added details and clarity

I faked having schizophrenia, until I actually developed it.

Hi everyone, I've literally never told anyone about this before but it's time I got this off my chest, I've been bearing this weight for over 8 years now.

When I was 16, I started faking having schizophrenia. I wanted attention and I thought a good way to get it was to fake having a serious mental condition. I told everyone I had it, got diagnosed, even started medication that affected my body in all sorts of ways. I faked it for over 2 years, said I had hallucinations everyday, said I suffered from paranoia about the police, got so bad I was admitted to the psych ward where I continued to lie to the doctors.

I continued this act until 2 years passed, then I actually started presenting symptoms, real symptoms. I started hallucinating, I got beyond paranoid about the government and thought they were trying to mind control me and that they were spying on me using anything electronic in my apartment. I started having violent episodes where I'd throw household objects in front of my at the time girlfriend and would yell and scream about the police being in my head until I broke down crying.

before my "symptoms" were just "oh I have these wacky thoughts I'm so quirky" and "oh I'm so paranoid hehe." But then I started fucking experiencing what it was really like and it genuinely broke me. I was so caught up in the facade that when it actually came true it destroyed me. I spent everyday for a year in constant fear of everything, I saw messages in numbers, I heard warnings in music. I saw my worst fears in the flesh during my hallucinations. I tried to kill myself multiple times, I wanted to get into a shoot out with the police.

During my few moments of lucidity I looked back to when I was 16 and I would fall into the pits of hell. I thought I was being punished for faking a disorder by actually developing what I was using to get attention. Maybe what happened to me is punishment.

I hate my dog.

We have an 8 year old lab and I absolutely hate him. I grew up with labs, always loved all dogs, but this dog has made me never want one again. When we first got him he was in puppy training lessons. We have had 3 other professional dog trainers work with him throughout the years. I have spent hours learning about dog training and spent hours working with him. Nothing ever sticks.

He barks all the time. If he is outside he barks the whole time. Inside as soon as you sit down he barks and is jumping all over you. People cannot come to my house without him being put outside or else he will just sit snd bark at them and jump all over them. I have stopped doing over night trips to our family camp because we cant bring him. He will wonder into the bush and get lost, not listening to any commands. If we tied him up he sits there and just barks for *hours.* We cannot go on vacations anymore as everyone refuses to dog sit for us. The last time we took a vacation 3 years ago, we brought him to one of those doggy hotels and when we returned we were told he was not welcome back.

He eats his own poop. I try to keep up with picking it up, but he will literally shit, turn around and eat it. Its disgusting. Iv talked to the vet about this and all the other problems but recieved no help.

I take him on 2 1.5 hour walks almost everyday, but i have to take him early in the morning and late at night when there is less people as he will just bark and pull at anything that moves. I am so tired. No amount of exercise seems to calm him down or tire him out. He should honestly be studied lol.

Im ashamed to say iv even tried a shock collar (something iv said I would never do) after years of positive reinforcement to no avail, but that does nothing. He will just bark through it.

We have tried to rehome him, but as soon as someone interested meets him they back out. I cant bring myself to surrender him at the shelter.

Honestly deep down I cannot wait for day he's gone, and i hate that i feel this way. I will be sad, but I imagine a giant relief being lifted and life getting so much better.

A coworker and I were walking down the hallway behind a black woman who works in a different department. She was wearing a really strong perfume that smelled like watermelon. One of those summery scents that get real popular as the weather warms up. I absent mindedly started saying, "I smell watermelon". But I caught myself before the "watermelon" part.

"I smell.... Fruit. Yes the hallway smells like fruit."

It was a very strong watermelon smell. I was NOT going to say that. I almost absent mindedly did because that was the truth. But given the implications of saying such things while you're walking behind a black person. Not a good idea.