I love my mother, but often, when I was growing up, I would be incredibly frustrated by the fact that she didn't seem to understand anything. We would watch films together and she couldn't tell me what the film was about after. She didn't know. She never understood metaphor and she never grasped basic financial understanding or learned how to drive.

My father married my mother when she was eighteen and he was 29. I always questioned the power dynamics at play because of their age difference, and as I grew older I began to question my mother's behaviours as well.

Yesterday, while talking to my grandmother I found out that my mother was diagnosed with an intellectual disability when she was fourteen years old. My grandmother assumed that my father had told me. He never did.

My mother has never seemed to have any trouble completing domestic tasks. She has always been a stay-at-home mother and me and my older sister were always well taken care of as children.

In other ways, I feel as though I was neglected. I could never really ask my mother to comfort me, because if I told her that I was upset, she would just burst into tears on the ground. Even though my mother and I have always spent lots of time with each other, and it would seem as though we are very 'close', I feel a weird sense of disconnect from her.

When I was young, I found my mother really fun, and so did a lot of other kids as her interests have always been quite 'childlike'. She always got just as excited as me and my sister to play at the playground, or dress up as princesses.

As I got older, I became interested in things that my mother couldn't understand at all. She would get upset when I would want to read books instead of playing games with her. She struggled immensely watching me and my sister get older, because I think that to her, it seemed like we were leaving her behind.

I hate to admit it, but I became embarrassed of her. I never wanted my friends to come over to my house because I was ashamed of my mother's interests, and the fact that her lack of social understanding made her treat everyone as though they were great friends with her.

Sometimes, when I was being a typical angsty teenager, I would really lash out at her verbally, and she had no way of coping, so she would just start kicking and screaming on the floor. I wish that I'd known at the time that she genuinely didn't understand half of what I would be going on about, it would have saved a lot of tears I think, on my end and hers.

I also don't know how to feel towards my father. Honestly, he sounds quite predatory to me, going after a woman significantly younger and intellectually disabled. She's essentially forced into a role of submission towards him.

I ask that you not dox me.

My 20 yo (at the time) son fell asleep at the wheel and hit a county highway worker. He was sober. His phone was dead, so there’s no chance he was on It. He had spent the previous evening snoozing on the couch watching a movie with his dad and his brother’s girlfriend . So not even hungover. He was driving my highly safety rated SUV.

We’ve been horrified and grieving with very little information about the “pedestrian.” We know the pedestrian is alive. We know that my son and the pedestrian were a couple years apart in the same high school in a town of about 20k people. His family is fundraising. That is all we know, genuinely. It’s super bad and under other circumstances I would participate in the fundraising, meal trains, etc. But we all have lawyers and insurance companies. Plus, that mom doesn’t want to hear from me. She’s not interested in the whining and apologies from the driver’s mom.

It was truly an accident. It’s been two months and all charges have been dismissed pending investigation. The SUV is still impounded. The county is still investigating. I’m not sure as a law lay person what that means. (We do have a lawyer).

Well, then my kid turns 21 and catches a DUI. Rightful. And now his mugshot is posted on one of those citizen journalist pages and aaaaallll the comments come out. I’m actually posting here in order to calm the itch to respond. There are folks saying things like “he shouldn’t have jumped in front of the car.” They are BLAMING the young man who was flagging for the county!! That is absolutely insane.

They are criticizing my son and the pedestrian. It’s fucking wild. And almost NONE of it is based in fact. Like folks just “picked”. And they are riding their pony. It’s so gross. Social media was SUCH a mistake. My son and the pedestrian had a terrible accident. My son then further fucked up. And now the netizens of our city are weighing in with no facts. No. Facts. They are citing court dates that NEVER happened.

It’s so frustrating. I can’t imagine eddy the pedestrian and his family are feeling.

Hi. A few weeks ago my coworker in his early 20s committed suicide after work on a Thursday. We all work M-F as it is a daycare, and he had been there for over a year. My coworker: Phil (fake name) was a float around the school and I am a teacher in a classroom. I saw him often and knew him somewhat well; he was extremely kind, helpful, and genuine. Phil was always in a hoodie or long sleeves even in the summertime. Although that changed leading up to his death. He wore his work shirt with nothing underneath exposing extensive self harm scars in different stages of healing. I felt sick seeing it and I wanted to say something so badly especially knowing that I have also struggled with self harm. I didn't know how or what to day and I didn't want to embarrass him. I regret that every day. I think about him a lot. Although we weren't close, I feel I should've at least tried to be there for him. We all saw the scars and my bosses knew he needed mental health days and time-off. My boss dismissed his death completely and only cared how we reacted for the parents. She came around and told us during the work day, bluntly that he had jumped off a bridge the night before and was dead. I couldn't believe the coldness, I ended up leaving my job because I couldn't stand to work for such a cold/unfeeling system.

Ten years ago, I used to take random writing jobs online. I would write ads, descriptions, articles, basically whatever assignment was given to me. It was extra money and I liked writing, so I didn't think too much about it.

Then one day, the person I worked for asked me to write short bios for some people on a website and sent me the link. I opened it and immediately closed it because the page was full of pictures of naked women. I honestly thought I clicked something wrong or got one of those stupid porn pop-ups, so I clicked the link again.

Still the same website, same naked women.

Then I looked properly and realized, oh. These women were escorts. And my assignment was to write their bios.

I remember being so uncomfortable because how am I supposed to write a biography about somebody I don't even know? Am I supposed to look at her picture and invent that she is sweet, adventurous, naughty, loves this and that, whatever will make men interested in her?

Basically, I would be creating a personality for a woman I had never met just to make her more appealing to customers.

At that time, my reason for refusing was mostly about the women. I am a woman too, and something about helping sell another woman felt so wrong to me. I didn't know their circumstances or even who they really were. That was actually part of the problem. These were real women with real personalities and real lives somewhere, and I was being asked to make up a more marketable version of them based on some naked pictures.

So I refused the assignment and stopped taking work from that person not long after.

Sometimes I think about it now and I am so fucking glad I didn't do it. Realistically, it probably would not have stopped with one website. Maybe another escort site would come next, then adult advertisements, porn titles and descriptions. Maybe eventually I would be writing "step sis snu snu step bro" descriptions for SEO. What a career path. 😭

But there is another reason why I am glad now, and this one I only understood 10 years later.

When I was younger, I had a stereotype of the men on the other side of websites like that. I imagined rich and powerful men. Businessmen, politicians, nepobabies, some married executive secretly paying for women because he could afford it. He had the money and he was choosing, so in my mind, he was the one with power.

I never really imagined some lonely salaryman sitting alone in his apartment after work.

I never imagined somebody touch-starved, socially awkward, traumatized or just terribly lonely. Someone who wanted intimacy but, for whatever reason, found it difficult to have it the conventional way. It never occurred to me that somebody could be the paying customer and still have vulnerabilities that a business could take advantage of.

I understand it now. Not because i studied Freudian books all of a sudden, but because I loved a man like that like a brother. And somehow, even a friendship that had nothing to do with money or sex got caught up in the same mess.

Look, I know adults can make their own choices. Not every guy paying for this stuff is a helpless victim, and the women doing it aren't automatically predators either. People make their decisions. But even when choices are made freely, building a whole billion-dollar business out of preying on someone’s vulnerabilities, chronic isolation, and desperation just feels... wrong. That’s the part that gets me. The whole machinery running in the background is just straight-up predatory.

Who gathered the women? Who brought the customers there? Who figured out what pictures make people click, what words make somebody more appealing, and most importantly, what psychological loops keep a lonely person coming back and bleeding cash?

Somebody actually sat down and engineered a way to weaponize basic human vulnerability for profit. A woman can be reduced into a body, a photograph, a fake personality, and a price. A man can be reduced into his loneliness, his desires, his credit card and how much more money can be extracted from him.

Sometimes maybe the man really is the rich asshole I imagined when I was young. But what if he's just some lonely guy who goes to work, goes home, eats dinner alone, and wants somebody to make him feel wanted for a while?

As disgusting or transactional as it can look from the outside, underneath it all, it’s often just a lonely person craving human connection, and this is the only way they know how to get it. I never really understood this before, but some people never learned how to form healthy relationships, and for them, transactional intimacy might feel like the only safe option left.

I didn't understand any of this when I refused that assignment. I just looked at those women and thought: no, I don't want to be a cog in this machinery.

And it wasn't until ten years later that I truly understood what that machinery does to the people trapped inside it.

And I think that's another terrible part of it. After a while, somebody might start believing that affection always comes with a price. So when someone genuinely cares about them without asking for anything in return, they don't know what to do with it. They question it, doubt it, and maybe even try to turn it into something transactional because that's what they're used to. To me, it almost sounds like self-sabotage. Even when nobody is asking them for money anymore, they might still struggle to believe that somebody could care about them simply because they do.

I couldn't save my friend. My friendship cannot outlove the loneliness he is feeling.

But at least I didn't become part of the apparatus that I believe made his loneliness worse. Maybe somebody else wrote that assignment that i refused. And ten years later, I am still so fucking glad that somebody was not me.

Before I (accidentally) got pregnant, I had reached the best fitness of my life and felt wonderful. I changed careers, we were finally getting where we wanted to be, and then our surprise baby came along.

My mom used to tell me to have more kids because I was such a good mom and I would reply: "I can be a good mom to 2, I can't do it for more though." And that was the most truthful thing I ever said. Because I've never felt like a good mom since.

It's been 3 years of misery. She was a horribly difficult baby, and for years cried nonstop (we went to the pediatrician, to therapists, to several specialists looking for answers). It devastated our home life, hurt our relationships with our older children, my body has never recovered, our marriage is struggling, I literally don't feel human any more...

She's 3.5 now and becoming easier to handle. We have joyful moments. But so many things are still hard or impossible (going on a cruise? Literally impossible unless we upgrade to a massive family suite or convince grandparents to go with us). Our older two are best friends and run off to play, but they never want the youngest around, so she's always begging for my attention when I could be doing something else.

I love her, but I so deeply and painfully regret having a third, it breaks me. I hate that I feel this way. I want to be a better mom. I love her as an individual, but I can't help feeling like having a third has broken us and our family.

My girlfriend and I have been together for a bit. Recently we went and saw rings(a few times). I wanted to be sure what she was into. Today, I did it. I didn’t propose. But, I put the final deposit down on a ring. I’m. Fucking. PSYCHED. I’m making a dope ring holder to use when I do it out of some exotic wood. Not one of those cube shaped boxes. It’ll be the size of a phone so she can’t tell when it’s in my pocket. and a pop up storybook type deal when I open it. i can’t wait until it’s done casting bc I can’t keep a secret from her. At all. I’ll be strong though. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with her. She’s snoring next to me right now whole her cat is also KOed between us. I’ll be sure to take pictures with the ring and her before I propose(without her knowing) to show her after. I needed to get this out bc I’d tell her otherwise. SHITS GETTING REAL!

I just went to see her in the hospital for the first time. We were together in the morning, singing songs. She drove me to a coffee shop, she went to a gym. We had a plan to eat lunch together back home.

I got home from the coffee shop, she wasn't coming. As usual, I had the "somethings wrong" thought, but dismissed it, cuz i have these every time And they are never true. After 2 Hours my dad came to say she was driven to a Hospital after people found her very weird acting and confused at the gym.

She probably had a stroke or something. She forgets everything said in the last 10 seconds And Always asks: where am i? how did i get here? we Always told her and she always asked again. And she is so scared And stressed because she know something Is Wrong but She Always forgets. She was crying. And i am too Now.. I love her very much And i know she is going through hell

I am scared she will stay there, im scared her brain Will be Forever damaged. FUCK everything was normal in the morning.

I experienced a lot of trauma during the birth of my son. Honestly, it was after the birth. I went in to be induced. It was a little slow, then picked up the next night. I pushed for 20 min and he came out. Only had a first degree tear going up, which is not fun for my urethra but not the worst it could have been. I also had a couple stitches going down. I cuddled him as my husband watched and our family came to support. 

Well, that night it all started. At around 9-10 I continue gushing out blood every few seconds. I was bleeding way too much for pads. They massaged my uterus and clots upon clots just kept coming out. I became extremely lightheaded, couldn’t move even my hands, and could barely keep my eyes open, even while lying down. They had to force me to pee with a catheter. Because of the stitches, it hurt so bad. I screamed begging them to stop, which they obviously could not. At the time, I thought it was the worst pain on earth. After, they gave me a shot in the thigh and told me I could sleep.

The next morning, they got me up to the bathroom to pee. There a baseball sized clot came out. I also kept gushing blood in bed, still too much for a pad. That’s when the nurses called my obgyn to come in. My doctor said she was just going to look around in there and would give me medication to make me not feel it. 

This is where it really began. So, she gave me the medication, which made me so loopy. I was laughing and giggling up until the examine. She reached, full hand, into my vagina and up into my uterus to try and find more clots. I have never felt pain like that in my life. I screamed and screamed and begged them for a break, but they said they couldn’t stop. I closed my legs and wouldn’t let them open, as I sobbed. My husband couldn’t stand next to me. I just saw him crying on the other side of the room. At that point, my doctor saw that she couldn’t do it that way, since the clots were way too high up and I couldn’t handle it. She decided to send me to OR.

I was so loopy from the pain medication that I didn’t understand what was going on. They had my husband sign the consent form, and I was rushed downstairs without my glasses and without an explanation other than they need to get the clots or I’ll bleed out. I was already hemorrhaging badly. 

I watched and could see nothing but blobs as they carted me through halls and down elevators, since I have -5.00 prescription on my glasses. I then reached this curtained off area where a woman and the anesthesiologist team was. I was sobbing and hyperventilating. I just wanted my husband and baby. I just looked up at these blobs of people as they explained to me that I had some risks because I had eaten just before. I couldn’t even see their faces as they used the word asphyxiation, which to my loopy mind meant I was going to die while under. I started hyperventilating more and just freaking out. I said I didn’t want to do this and that I just want to wake back up. I begged them to promise I would wake back up and no one did. One of the doctors told me he was just going to slip some meds in on the “down low” to “ease my anxiety.” They worked, except for the fact that it just made me settle with the fact I was about to die. 

They wheeled me to the OR room, where they put a mask on my face. The last thing I remember is telling the world that I loved my husband and baby boy and the promise I would wait for them where ever I was going. 

Then I woke up in some room. I was out of my mind under anesthesia. I don’t remember much other than telling all the nurses how handsome my husband was. I was wheeled upstairs to my room, where my mom, sister, mother in law, and my husband were waiting. I don’t remember this part, but my husband said I was just so happy and giddy. He said he cried when I said “I thought I was going to die, but here I am!” 

I know there is worse birth trauma out there, but I just haven’t been able to sleep without thinking I won’t be waking up. Every time I look at my husband and son I think of my promise as I was fading out. I thought I was being put to death, without an explanation. I understand how loopy I was. My birth team did what they had to do to save my life. They explained everything afterwards. But it is so hard to forget the moment. 

Have you ever met anyone like this?

Sorry, this is a long one, but I have to tell you about this guy I work with.

A coworker of mine is 26 years old and lost the majority of his family in a car accident when he was 22. Now it’s just him and his little sister. But here’s the crazy part.. this dude gets to the office at 5:00 am and doesn’t leave until around 4:30 pm almost every single day, and he’s constantly putting everyone else before himself.

Every Monday morning, he makes breakfast for the entire office, even though he absolutely doesn’t have to. I’m talking 40 breakfast burritos, homemade bread, pancakes, eggs, bacon, you name it. He’s been doing this for a long time, just because he wants to.
And the more I learn about him, the crazier it gets. He’s incredibly frugal when it comes to himself. Shops at thrift stores, meal preps 90 meals at a time and stores them in his chest freezer, barely spends money on himself, and doesn’t even eat out. Meanwhile, the dude is a CPA making around $150K a year plus a bonus….

But when it comes to his little sister, he gives her the world. He says he has three kids, sort of: his little sister, her best friend, and her best friend’s boyfriend. He says those three mean the world to him, and he just wants them to have the best childhood possible. He literally has debit cards connected to his bank account for each of them and reloads them every week with something like $300–$500 each. On top of that, he makes weekly envelopes for his sister and her best friend, then every other week makes another one for his sister’s best friend and her boyfriend so they can have date nights together. And all he ever asks for in return is pictures of the memories they make.

I asked him what he actually puts in these envelopes, and it’s honestly insane. Every single one is some kind of adventure: shopping trips, spa days, amusement parks, dinners, or just random experiences he wants them to enjoy. One envelope might have a $150 dinner gift card, Dave & Buster’s cards, and shopping money. Other times, he’ll literally give them $1,000 to go shopping for the day. 😭

He’s sent them to Coachella with everything paid for, arranged trips to New York, and done all kinds of other things for them. And somehow, he still lives like he’s making minimum wage when it comes to himself. I swear, the more I learn about this guy, the harder it is to wrap my head around how someone can live like that. He works crazy hours, hardly does anything for himself, and seems perfectly content keeping his own life simple while spending his money making sure these three kids have experiences and memories they’ll never forget.

But one thing is obvious: he loves those three kids more than anything in this world, and he’s determined to make sure they know they’ll always have someone in their corner.

I’ve honestly just never met anyone like him. And deep down, I have a feeling he’s still grieving everything he lost. Maybe putting so much love into those three kids is his way of making sure they never have to feel alone the way he did. I don’t know, but there’s something about him that really gets to me. He’s been through more than most people his age could imagine, yet he still spends so much of his time, energy, and money making other people happy.

This is a real "my lobster too buttery" issue, but I'm genuinely going insane over the combination of how attractive my wife is postpartum and how little she wants to be touched. Like, she is absolutely glowing, her breasts are very full, baby weight evaporated... but she is completely touched-out by our baby and toddler. Her sense of smell is still extremely heightened (it's a pregnancy thing) and everything smells bad to her except our baby.

I completely understand that this will pass. I know I'm being whiny. It just sucks that we haven't had a single sexual interaction in over a year, and even getting a hug or kiss feels like something I have to beg for, which is gross, so I don't.

Not the kind of thing that I would ever want to complain about to someone in my life, because it's lame and pathetic, but going from a very active and healthy sex life to absolutely zero contact (while still living with and sleeping next to someone who is basically the Goddess of Sex Appeal) really, really sucks.

Hello, I (36f) am leaving my husband (37m) after 21 years together.

First of all I don't know that I'm looking for advice, I didn't know why I'm posting this at all. The idea is a little absurd.

I meet my husband when I was 15, we've been through an insane amount of things together. When we were kids we bonded and stick together because neither of us had parents that were worth a damn.

As we've gotten older we've had our ups and downs, and we now have 3 kids together and have been married for 10+ years. We own a home together... We've built a life.

When we had our first child (now 18) he stopped using so I stayed with him. I understood everyone deals with trauma differently, so when we were teens we smoked weed together. But he has started taking pills..I didn't. We agreed early on that or parents were addicts and we went going there. I didn't, he did. But I figured. When we had our first he got clean went to college and we did our best to raise our child. He did fantastically staying clean with the help of subs.

Fast-forward 6 yrs. We had our second child and immediately he started drinking. I had a problem with this because again, I don't want our kids growing up like we did. So much happened over the yrs I could write a book. He refused to stop drinking and started making excuses for himself. Child 2 is now 12 and he still drinks every day. I'm ok with socially drinking or maybe even on weekends, but he's such a dick when he drinks. But he started doing drugs again and he got really fucking weird. Like what the fuck! I don't even smoke! I don't use drugs, I don't drink. I married my fucking family that I worked so hard to get away from.

I don't have familial support so I did my best to try to save to get me and my kids the fuck out of there, he was still going to work every day, but he just got weirder and weirder. I told him he had to stop out I was leaving, he said he needed time. I told him no I'm out. Unfortunately I didn't have enough money saved to leave at that time.. Then...

I found out I was 4 miss pregnant with baby 3. I worked my ass off through my pregnancy to get out. Then when i had my baby, he told me he was done.. no more he swore and to this day he hasn't touched it again, that was 2 yrs ago. However he told me the day after baby 3 was born that he had to quit his job because the stress was causing him to use. His job was a very well paying job.

I agreed though, it's not worth it if he's that miserable. He swore we'd make it work and he had better offers waiting. So now my problem is that he's still drinking, still on the subs. Stopped doing the other stuff.. But he apparently is schizophrenic.

I thought because I've stuck by him through everything else that I could through this to, but it's a whole different beast. And because his brain is telling him that what he is experiencing is real.. he doesn't think he needs help. He won't do anything to help himself. I do understand that he needs my support.

On one hand he spoils me and gives me whatever I want and need. He tells me how beautiful I am but I'm the same breath will tell me I need to lose some weight though.. Any way.

I'm done.. I want a simple life.. I just want to go to work.. and come home to my babies at the end of my day. I don't want him to touch me. I don't want to hear his excuses. I don't want to wake up to my door being barricaded. I don't want to hear him talk to himself. I feel terrible about it, but I'm going to get my own place and I'm going to be a single mom with a simple life with nothing and no one in it but my children and clients.

I want the simplest most boring life ever💜

Thanks for reading

We shared a lot of secrets that night. He told me he lost his virginity to aunt, waking up to her jacking him off, then giving him head and finally having sex. She was in her 30's at the time. I instantly comfoterted him telling him that was awful and not his fault. I was surprised that he didn't seem to think it was a big deal. I had also found out earlier that he had a sexual relationship with his cousin as a teen. Later, he showed me messages where she would ask him to come comfort and cuddle her in between "clients" at a hotel room. She is a prostitute according to my ex. I have no problem with that profession I'm merely stating the fact. There were pictures that she sent him of her in lingerie asking if they were a good valentines outfit for her clients as well.

He admitted their sexual history showed me everything and vowed to never have contact with her without me present. All the sudden she was not at any family functions and when I asked why to his mother, I was told he requested she not be around anymore because he wanted to respect our relationship so that's the only reason I felt ok to keep going. I told everyone I never asked that of him or the family because in my mind I liked her. She is smart, funny and can hold an intelligent conversation. She is not the one who owed me a damn thing, he did. So I saw that as him respecting our commitment to each other.

Fast forward to now, we aren't together anymore. It didn't work out. He became "suicidal" in his words and needed to stay with his mother at 45 years old. He kept telling me he wants to get married, he loves me more than anything, he wants to move with me after I sell my home, will not take his belongings from my house or separate in anyway with accounts or possessions. None of that happened.

He will not explain to me why he doesn't want to fulfill his promises to this day yet continue to text randomly and call me in the middle of the night.

I'm so over men lying about their intentions. And looking at his sexual history makes me gag every time I think about it now. I cannot believe I accepted his excuses because there are none. He now has accounts under his middle names with this same cousin he has been sleeping with making a comment "I'm with you" , just disgusting. I just wanted to know what the fuck i did to make this man who pursued me hard for over a year to just give up without excuses. At the same time, I think about what he told me and think it's for the best because my god. He has fucked up sexual boundaries and who knows what would've happened in the future. Not to mention he put his hands on me, even choked me so hard he broke the tendon on my right side of my throat so much so I couldn't swallow for almost two weeks.

I know i deserve better. Just needed to get this out. Somewhere. Tell me I'm not crazy. If I am. Tell me that too please.

The title is very weird, i can explain as much as i can without giving too much away but incredibly long story short, my son is 6. Me and his mom (my ex of 5 years) are civil when needed but i truly do not like or want to be around this individual longer than I have to and I know she feels the same way about me. Our personal feelings about each other aside, we do manage to coparent in a stable manner when it does pertain to our son (i’ll explain this in a bit).

Another long story short, me and her haven’t been together in years, however she recently gave birth and informed me about the birth happening. It’s not mine, i truly think I met the dad randomly when I was picking my son up from her place a few months ago. However, that’s not my issue.

My issue is, she randomly called me a few hours ago (it’s been about 2 days since the birth of the baby) and asked me to pick up our son for his basketball game in the morning. I agreed and after agreeing on the time and location to meet, she then switched the topic and stated that due to her situation, she gave the baby up for adoption and that our son has been already spreading that he has a sibling at school and the school reached out to her. I actually didn’t know the gender of the baby until my son casually mentioned it to me 2 weeks ago (we have 50/50 split custody; 2 weeks with me, 2 weeks with his mom).

Essentially, my question is: How do I navigate this conversation with my son? He’s 6 and he honestly seemed excited about having a sibling from all the small things he has stated around me. However, according to my girlfriend, she’s stated that he’s said things that he’s aware of like “adoption” and “adoptive brother”. I actually forgot that this moment happened since it happened a few months ago but based on that, part of me feels like he already knows about it.

Also, my second question is: Am I wrong in feeling like this is something I shouldn’t have to explain to him? I’m very transparent with my son and I’ll explain anything he asks about in ways that a 6 year old can understand, but I feel like this is just wrong in the sense that, from the brief moments that my son has mentioned it, he’s excited about having a sibling. I know I don’t have the best relationship with his mom but this wasn’t something I had any part in but I understand where his mom is coming from. I really want to stress that I’m not mad at my son’s mother, i’m just mad at the situation. I feel like this is a topic that’s too heavy to try and explain to my son but at the same time, I also can’t let him go around with the idea of having a sibling then explaining to him why his sibling isn’t around.

I do apologize if this is all over the place, but I’m trying to just get advice on the situation and know how to properly navigate this one.

I told one of my closest friends that I had feelings for her. And now I'm sitting here wondering whether that single moment cost me one of the most important friendships I've ever had.

I can't adequately describe how much I hate this. I've spent days going over everything in my head. The conversation. Her reaction. The silence afterward. The email I sent trying to explain myself. The response I finally received.

She told me I made her uncomfortable. She told me she doesn't like when someone acts like a friend and then reveals romantic feelings. And she told me she needs space. The part that absolutely gutted me was when she said she wasn't sure whether okay was the right word to describe where we stood as friends.

I read that sentence, and I felt like the floor disappeared beneath me. Because I can accept that she doesn't feel the same way about me. I really can. I never expected her to love me back simply because I had feelings for her. I never believed that being a good friend entitled me to something more. But I wasn't prepared for the possibility that telling her how I felt would make her question the friendship itself.

And that's what I'm struggling with. The friendship was real. Every conversation. Every stupid joke. Every baseball game we talked about. Every time I asked about her day. Every moment I showed up because she needed something.

None of that was a performance. I wasn't pretending to be her friend until I found the right moment to make some romantic move. I was her friend because I genuinely cared about her. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with her.

I didn't plan it. I didn't want to make things complicated. And I certainly never wanted her to feel uncomfortable around me. But that's what happened. I hurt someone I care about by doing something I thought was honest. And now I have to live with the fact that my intentions don't erase the impact my actions had on her.

I sent her a short response acknowledging how she felt. I apologized. I told her I respected her need for space. And I told her that whenever she felt ready and comfortable reaching out, I'd be here.

I didn't ask her to forgive me. I didn't ask whether we were still friends. I didn't ask her to reconsider. I didn't ask for anything. And now I am stuck in the most miserable kind of uncertainty I have ever experienced.

I'm waiting for an answer to a question I deliberately chose not to ask. Are we still friends? That's it. That's the question. Not will you date me? Not could you ever love me? Not what if we tried? Just: Do I still get to be your friend? And I don't know. I don't know if she's going to reach out next week, next month, or never. I don't know whether she misses our conversations or feels relieved that they've stopped. I don't know whether she's simply taking the time she needs or whether she's deciding she doesn't want me in her life anymore.

And I refuse to pressure her into telling me. Because she asked for space. And as much as this hurts, I'm going to respect that. But I need somewhere to admit how fucking devastating it is. I'm a logistics person. I love logistics. Give me a complicated problem, a ridiculous number of moving parts, and a deadline, and I'm happy. I'll build a spreadsheet. I'll document everything. I'll organize the process. I'll figure out what needs to happen, who's responsible, where everything belongs, and how to make sure nothing gets overlooked. I love problems I can solve. I love knowing that if I'm handling something, it'll get done, and it'll get done correctly. But there's no spreadsheet for this. No tracking number. No expected delivery date. No escalation process. No checklist I can complete that ends with my friendship being restored.

There's just silence.

And someone I care about who has every right to decide she doesn't want to talk to me. I can't fix that. And I won't try to force it. But knowing the right thing to do doesn't make doing it any less painful.

Last night, the Milwaukee Brewers made the World Series for the first time since 1982. Forty-four years. Forty-four years of waiting, and they finally did it. My friend is a huge Brewers fan. Baseball is one of the things we've shared together. We've watched games, talked about players, celebrated wins, complained about losses, and made endless jokes about how much we hate the Dodgers. Under normal circumstances, last night would have been incredible. We would've been texting each other throughout the game. And when the Brewers won? Holy shit. I can practically imagine the conversation.

Except there wasn't one.

Because she's asked me not to contact her. And I respect that. So I sat there watching a moment of baseball history unfold, wanting desperately to tell someone who already knew exactly how much it mattered. And I couldn’t. I've never felt quite so alone while watching something so wonderful happen.

Later that night, I opened my computer. There was a folder on my desktop named after her initials. I changed the name to i hate this. Then I changed my wallpaper to a solid blue background. There used to be something meaningful there. Now it's just blue. I couldn't stand looking at the reminders anymore. But I couldn't bring myself to delete anything, either. Because I don't want to forget her. I don't want to erase the memories. I don't want to pretend that this friendship never existed. I just don't know how to look at those reminders without wondering whether they're all I have left.

And I think that's the part that's breaking me. I've experienced rejection before. I've experienced loss before. I understand that people aren't obligated to love me. But this feels different because I'm not grieving the relationship I hoped we might someday have. I'm grieving the friendship I already had. The everyday conversations. The sense of familiarity. The little traditions that developed without anyone consciously deciding to start them. The feeling of having someone I could reach out to because something happened and I knew she'd understand. The kind of friendship where you don't need a reason to talk.

And now I feel like I need permission. Permission I won't ask for because she's already told me she needs space. So I'm waiting. And waiting. And trying not to interpret every hour of silence as proof that it's over. Trying not to convince myself that the friendship is already gone. Trying not to imagine the day when I finally realize she's never going to reach out again. Because the truth is that I don't know.

She hasn't told me the friendship is over. But she hasn't told me it isn't, either. And somehow, that uncertainty is worse than almost anything I could have imagined. I know people will tell me that I should move on. That I should give her time. That I should focus on myself. That I should understand that sometimes friendships change. I know. I understand all of that.

But understanding doesn't make the empty space disappear. It doesn't stop me from reaching for my phone when something funny happens. It doesn't stop me from thinking about her when I hear a song or see a baseball score. It doesn't stop me from wanting to tell her about something completely insignificant because I know it's the kind of thing she would appreciate.

And it doesn't stop me from hoping that one day she'll reach out. Not to confess some hidden romantic feelings. Not to apologize for needing space. Not to tell me everything is magically okay. Just to talk. Maybe awkwardly at first. Maybe cautiously. Maybe with a lot of rebuilding ahead of us.

I don't care if it takes time. I don't care if the friendship has to look different. I just hope there is still a friendship to rebuild. Because I love this person. And I recognize that she doesn't owe me the relationship I wanted. But I hope, more than I can possibly express, that I haven't lost the relationship we already had.

I sent my last email. I apologized. I told her I'd respect her boundaries. I told her I'd be here whenever she's ready. And now I have to sit with the consequences of something I can never take back. I'm not waiting for her to fall in love with me. I'm waiting to find out whether she still wants to be my friend. And I am absolutely terrified of the answer.

I (17M) have had a crush on this girl (17M) for a long time. For context she’s a family friend and just came back to my neighbourhood after being gone on an exchange for a few months. I’ve always found her really attractive, but am very nervous to ask her out with the concern that if she rejected me, things could get awkward between us and our families.

Anyways, I recently saw her again at a barbecue. At one point, her dad told us to go back to her place to get some more deck chairs, so we headed over. We hung around for a while and she seemed more playful than usually, teasing me and laughing at all my jokes . However, there was one detail that caused my brain to start malfunctioning.

She was wearing this short, black pleated skirt and on a couple occasions it felt as if she was deliberately trying to show me her underwear. At once point, she bent over facing away from me to fold a deck chair, and her white panties were fully on display for the 20 seconds it took her to finish. Another time, as we were sat down across from eachother and talking, she had her legs nearly full spread out. Neither times did she seem self conscious about it.

When we got a text from her dad asking us to hurry up, we decided to leave. When we got back she acted completely normally and nothing that eventful happened.

Am I going crazy? I can’t tell whether she was deliberately flirting with me or if she just felt comfortable enough to not think anything of it. She’s always been quite modest and never really did anything like this before. How should I proceed from here?

Hopefully I can’t vent a bit, but I’ve been encountering such mean, bitter and harsh people across all subs I frequent! Wether it’s local, niche, generic, etc. I’ll make a post so benign and simple or even comment something that’s quite literally the antithesis of being dissident, and someone will make a snide remark…or say something that implies I interpreted something differently… or play devils advocate or what not. It’s actually super exhausting to be the only anomaly or person down voted to hell for absolutely no reason…

Im not sure if the site has had a shift in user base to people who aren’t as happy or more divisive, but its so wack. I’ve been using the platform for almost a decade and I don’t recall reddiotrs being so pedantic, rude or dense, at least at such a high frequency. Genuinely it’s exhausting that I can’t even have a chill space on the internet because someone will comment something weird or rude. The increase in group think is a bit more pervasive in anonymous communities and platforms which makes it even more sad. I’ve even witnessed this happen to other random comments and redditors and I just feel so bad, because genuinely it’ll be the most benign thing, like “Hey OP, thanks for your post but this bit of information you included isn’t super accurate so here’s a link to something accurate” and they’ll be downvoted to hell just for spreading the proper info…Or the female subreddits I’m in will have a post about a girl going through a tough breakup and there will be mean comments like “get the fuck over it, you’re a grown woman”… like wow harsh!!

Anyway, rant over. But jeez it’s been getting under my skin lately. I can usually stomach it, but I wonder if anyone else has experienced this.

He handed it to me last month like it was nothing. “Just in case,” he said. “Your mom doesn‘t know how to get into the bank account.”

I didn‘t think much about it. I’m 41. He‘s 73. This is what adult children do. We help. We write things down. We pretend it‘s normal.

Today I opened the notebook to add the new Wi-Fi password. And I saw his handwriting. Not the steady, confident script from the birthday cards he used to sign. This was shaky. Uneven. The letters got smaller as they went down the page, like he was running out of room or energy or both.

On the last page, he‘d written a list. Not passwords. A list of things he wanted me to know.

“The insurance is under Mom‘s name too.”
“The car needs an oil change every 5,000 miles, not 7,500.”
“I‘m sorry I wasn‘t at your graduation.”

I sat on the kitchen floor for a long time. The graduation thing was 19 years ago. He was working. He called me that night and said he was proud of me. I told him it was fine. It was fine. I graduated. I got a job. I have a life.

But he wrote it down. In a notebook. Under passwords. Like it was a thing that needed to be recorded before he forgot or before he couldn‘t say it anymore.

I don‘t know what to do with this. I can‘t call him and say “Dad, I found your list.” That would embarrass him. He‘d make a joke. He‘d say I was being dramatic. He‘d change the subject to the oil change.

So I‘m writing it here instead. To strangers. Because the only thing harder than watching your parents get old is realizing they‘ve been preparing for it. Quietly. In notebooks. Under passwords.

I put the notebook back where I found it. I added the Wi-Fi password. And I closed it.

I found out two hours ago that my older brother killed himself last night. I’ve lost a lot of people but this one hurt me so bad. I can’t even describe the pain. He was my only older brother. Idk what I to do. I’m so angry at him but at the same time I get it. Idk. All I know is that this pain is another level

M26

Yep, just what the title says, I don't care, I don't care if anybody wishes me or not, if anybody rememberes or not, if anybody does anything for me or not, I do not care anymore and I hate myself for it, I see people being excited for their bithdays and looking forward to it and I just can't bring myself to give an ounce of anything

I'm queer from a Muslim Saudi family, My parents support all my dreams and buy me everything I want, but the problem is that they don't accept homosexuals in any way, and that makes me feel guilty, because imagine doing everything for your child and it turns out to be the thing you hate most, I've started focusing more on my studies so I can get a scholarship and leave here because I don't want any of them to find out. I know I shouldn't feel ashamed of who I am, but what can I do? They're perfect, the best parents you could ask for, But their only drawback is being homophobic, I started praying and hoping that they would accept me if they knew, because I would never come out to them. I wonder what they would feel if I appeared on a news channel as a successful person but with my sexual orientation mentioned. Would they feel proud of my success? Or ashamed because of my queerness? I don't know, and please don't hate on them, they just doesn't understand the whole lgdtq+ thing

Pretty much what the title says. This was 9 months ago, I guess posting here is just a way to process. So thanks for reading this. My house burned down while no one was home except my dog and my brother's two cats. My dog is never home alone, except she was then and now shes gone. I dug with a hand shovel until I found her because I couldnt stand the idea of an excavator ripping her apart when they dug out what was left of the house. All my friends told me to leave her be, that I wouldnt like what I found if I even did find her.

I found her almost 4 months after the fire.

It was worth every second of the digging, I got to finally bury my sweet girl somewhere that wasn't the burned down hell that used to be my childhood home.

Her name is Rosa. She had just turned 4.

Thank you for reading this.

Now they're filled with the same handful of AI plots. I feel robbed.

As a male redhead with pale skin and blue eyes (no freckles so I've not stolen any souls yet lol) here in ireland I never have any luck when it comes to dating, I have also been rejected in the past because of my features unfortinatly.

I have heard of women being into redheads but I can never find them lol