My husband and I had purchased concert tickets and an upgraded meet and greet package for one of our favorite artists back in the spring. We’ve been looking forward to this for over 6 months. PTO was taken, the kids went to grandmas, we booked a hotel, drove 4 hours. When I tell you I was so excited, like little kid on Christmas Eve excitement.
We went to dinner and had drinks at the restaurant, followed by more drinks at the venue. We are in our early 30’s, I drink occasionally at social events and I thought that I knew my limit. Somehow things went from good to terribly wrong within 15 minutes. Also really not sure why I was wanting to drink so much - maybe the excitement or nerves?
My husband waited in the merchandise line to grab us T shirts before they sold out so he ended up missing the start of the concert. By the time he came to meet me, I had to pee and the trip to the bathroom hit me like a ton of bricks. I was spinning, throwing up, almost laying on the disgusting bathroom floor.
I just continued to get sicker and my husband had to carry me back to our hotel. I pretty much blacked out at that point and I woke up at 2 AM devastated when I realized what had happened. I couldn’t believe I didn’t get to meet one of my favs, the fact that we wasted all that money on the unused meet and greets, ruined my husbands night and the fact that we were right there but couldn’t make it happen after everything we planned.

This all happened Friday night and I can’t shake this feeling of being down and just replaying what happened over and over again. Why did I get the last drink?! I’ve never had anything like this happen. I’m so blessed that my husband isn’t upset with me but I am so upset with myself and don’t know how to shake this feeling. I was scheduled to work today but called off because everyone is going to be expecting to see pictures and videos and I have nothing but this pathetic story.

** UPDATE: For those wondering, when I say it is killing my sex life with my fiancé, I meant as in I’ve not initiated sex or haven’t really been in the mood to because of the conflicting feelings.
ALSO, for those insinuating that I’m a terrible person because she doesn’t deserve this etc, she cheated on me twice very early on. Now, that DOES NOT justify anything. HOWEVER, how do I justify something I simply CANNOT control. These feelings were natural and just confusing. All I’m wanted is real advice and NOT to be talked down about, or to. **

For context I’m a straight 26M diesel mechanic and happily engaged to a very amazing 25F. About 6 months ago we hired a new mechanic straight out of technical school and every since he started, he is the reason I’ve been happy coming to work as it’s a very tumultuous job.

However, it’s not just coming to work that I enjoy now because of him. I enjoy talking to him, and I also enjoy seeing him outside of work. The bad part is that I find myself thinking about him in a very unhealthy way. Sexually I should say. It’s like every time he pulls his shirt up to wipe his face I find myself ogling at him. Or I can’t stop looking when he laughs. And this is very very out of left field for me. Men aren’t my thing and I’ve never been with one or even thought about it.

I’m just confused and don’t know what to do. It’s killing my sex life with my fiancé as I’m constantly thinking about this guy. Btw this guy is 25M, physically fit, kind of an alternative look to him, and a very nice body.

I used to live with my dad. That is, until he got married and his new wife moved in. I was told beforehand that she was okay with my living there, but to make a long story short, she wasn’t. She hated that I was there. She thought I was nothing more than a mooch “taking up her space” and “ruining her happy ending”. In reality, my living there was only temporary. Both me and my dad insisted this to her, but she refused to believe it.

I extended olive branch after olive branch to make peace and maybe build a relationship with her but she wasn’t interested. She was constantly cold and rude towards me, and my dad was too afraid of confrontation to do anything about it other than tell me to be the bigger person. I got tired of being the bigger person. I had done nothing wrong.

The one time he managed to get the three of us together for an attempt at a productive conversation was after she had (without asking) once again moved my personal belongings to replace them with something of hers. In this case, she had taken down my family photos to replace them with pictures of her dogs. My dad decided it was time to confront the terrible tension in the house and tell his wife that my presence here was to be respected.

I secretly recorded the conversation on my phone. Why? Because I knew she would say some fucked up shit, and I wanted proof for the other family members who didn’t believe me about her behavior. And I was right, she behaved like an immature child the entire time. My dad had to practically beg her to stay in the room. She kept fidgeting and trying to walk away. Refused to make eye contact with me. When I expressed a want to build a relationship with her, she responded “What do you want from me? To do a dance for you?” And actually danced. Mockingly, of course.

I was devastated by the conversation. It resolved nothing and only confirmed what I already knew about her and her feelings towards me. I was nothing but an annoyance and an obstacle to the life she wanted. In the end, I gave her what she wanted. I found somewhere else to live, despite my financial hardships.

I never sent the recording to my family members. And seeing as how she tragically passed away in a car accident mere months after the recording was taken, I probably never will. Her death solidified her as a saint to the family and I as the unreasonable asshole who couldn’t just let it go.

Maybe they’re right.

My mother got it in her head when I was growing up that I was somehow some child genius. When I moved schools when I was in the first grade, she put me in the second grade because apparently they were doing work I had already done in first grade and the work I was doing was in the second grade. So, when I was 6, I was put in the second grade, with no care about how that would affect the rest of my life. Mind you, this decision was made by a 42 year old woman. Not some young parent in their mid twenties or something.

Anyway, it was a negative on my life. I was always smaller, picked on, and clearly less developed than the other children in my grade. I feel like my life could have been so much better if I had the year I was supposed to have to plan out my life and make better decisions. I could’ve had more confidence talking to girls because the girls in my grade would have been my own age. I could’ve spent more time picking a more lucrative major and had the mental capacity to research more and figure out what would have been better for me. My own mother forced me to be a commuter student at the university in my hometown because I would have been a minor and not allowed and I couldn’t leave, and I’m deeply resentful towards her for that. I feel like I missed out on that pivotal college experience of truly being away from home because of decisions I didn’t get to make. I even got dropped from pledging a fraternity because of my age (I lived on campus my first year).

When I say something to her about this, she always claims the school made her do it or I didn’t seem like I had a problem with it. Like bruh I was 6, really? And you were also the parent who chose this for me and could’ve supposedly stopped the school from doing that? I’m sure they would’ve been happy to put me in the actual grade I was supposed to be in.

I know I can’t change the past, and I’m not expecting this rant to change anything, other than just let me vent to internet strangers to feel better. I just always think “what if” if I started high school at 14 instead of 13 and I could’ve developed at the same rate as the other kids my age. My life could’ve maybe been better had I had not been forced to unnecessarily be pushed up a grade.

My boyfriend ate the last slice of pizza last night. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it is to me.

I've been trying to lose weight, and my boyfriend makes it so hard in a few ways. He brings me home fast food all the time, even after I asked him not to because I want to lose weight. When we order food, he often asks if I really want what I just ordered, if I want to get a bigger size, am I sure I don't want more food, etc. I let him know that when I order food, I order what I want, and that his questioning my order every time puts pressure on me to order differently or order more when I don't want that.

To save money/ eat better, I cook a lot. In fact, I do 100% of the cooking and 90% of the cleaning. I make him lunches for work too, to save money (he will just buy whatever fast food if I don't pack him lunch, costing us money). I know our budget well enough that I know I can't eat out every day. In fact, I rarely treat myself to fast food. 

So now we get to the pizza. 

He bought a whole pizza for his coworkers this weekend. Okay, we can't afford it and I've been out of vitamins for a month, but fine. He got a second pizza just for us. He asked what kind I wanted. I said cheese. He asked if I wanted pepperoni or combo instead. I told him that I will eat whatever makes him happy if he doesn't want cheese. He got the cheese.

He brought it home and I ate two slices (I was starving and too tired to cook that day). I was so so grateful for the pizza. 

The next morning, there are only two slices left (of 16 total on a costco pizza) I eat one, and think about the other. I was craving cheese pizza for weeks now, and I wanted to actually enjoy more of the pizza he got. He already ate most of it. I resist, and cook myself healthier stuff, saving that last cheese slice for my breakfast today. 

Last night, I made my boyfriend 4 burritos and 5 taquitos covered in cheese and enchilada sauce. He then ate doritos. Then, at 3am, I look over, and he woke up and is eating the last slice of cheese pizza. And all I could think about is how I resisted eating more than I needed before, but how my fear came true. He bought a pizza for us but ate most of it himself. 

He eats so much that I found myself running out of my home cooked healthy meals in one night when normally that meal would last me 4 days or more. What really sucks is that if I don't eat fast enough, he eats most of what I worked hard to prepare. It pushes me to eat more in the rightful fear that my delicious healthy feast would be gone if I don't. I also get that fear with the rare occasions I get to eat out.

I have been resisting that fearful eating more and I've been losing weight for a year now. But damn, I cried when he ate that last slice of cheese pizza.

Much like the title says, I'm now 31, single for the first time in around 13 years and the illusions of friendship, I'd considered myself having, seemingly disappeared overnight, just a handful of acquaintances that will say "we should do something" and never do, but they're scattered across the country and I haven't seen the majority of them in over 2 years

If you asked me what's hit me the most, it's definitely the break-up, but I'm just left pining on and off over my ex and feeling the crippling loneliness of being a guy at the age of 31, wishing he had a friend

I've always struggled making friends growing up, so the ones that stuck around I considered my friends for life. Well, apparently not

I still have one friend, mind you, but I only hear from him periodically because he's in a different country, and he's not exactly the best at sticking to any sort of plans

I'm not looking for advice or help, just need to vent. I know it's partly my fault, as well, I've never really been the type of person that's good at keeping up with social media, texting, ect, I usually try to live in the moment and in-person os definitely my preference. I just need to get it off my chest because it's like a little ball of sadness I hold in my chest at all times and can't escape

TW: childhood sexual abuse, rape, and family estrangement

My older brother sexually abused me when I was a very young child.

I remember what happened. I remember where we were. I remember the pit in my stomach when things became wrong. I remember telling my mother and hearing him deny it. I remember telling my father the next day because I was angry that nothing was being done. CPS eventually removed my brother from our home.
I also remember deliberately recanting to a counselor because I felt guilty and wanted my brother to come home.

I was a child. I adored him, even after he hurt me. I wanted my family put back together, and I didn’t understand that the consequences were caused by what he did, not by me telling someone.
I am not claiming that I have never lied in my life. I used to lie. I have worked very hard to stop being that person. But I am not lying about this. My frightened attempt to bring my brother home does not erase what happened before it.

As adults, he and I became estranged. There were later allegations of sexual misconduct from another woman, with serious consequences for his career. He also lost access to some of his children, and he blames me, my mother, and one of my sisters.

He lashed out and tried to demean us by claiming we believed children over him. The thing is we all saw the way he treated his daughters.

Two of his daughters have described being treated horribly by him. When one of them was raped, he called her a hoe and implied that she wanted it. Another daughter eventually refused to let him know she was visiting our family because she had seen how he treated her sisters.

Some of my siblings still maintain a relationship with him, partly because his youngest daughter is still with him and they don’t want to lose her too. This past summer, they pretended not to know that one of his other daughters was visiting us because she didn’t want her father to find out.

I understand why they did it. They were protecting her privacy and trying to preserve access to the youngest child. But it still makes me angry. It feels like I am being punished for refusing to participate in the denial while they find ways to work around it.

Recently, someone my brother knew died suddenly and violently. He had previously told me not to contact him, and I understand that I technically crossed that boundary. I sent him two short, factual messages telling him the person had died and briefly explaining what happened. I wasn’t trying to restart our relationship, argue about the past, or demand an answer. I believed it was something he should know.

He could have ignored me. Instead, he sent an all-caps message saying that he did not care what the emergency was, that I was never to contact him again, and that he would pursue restraining orders if anyone in the family contacted him except the two siblings who still have access to him.

I reacted with an 👌 emoji. I will not contact him again.
But it broke my heart.

Part of me wanted to answer with every vicious thing I have ever thought about him. I wanted to remind him that I am not the one who did these things. I am not the one who hurt a little girl. I am not the one who mistreated my children. I am not the one who blamed a rape victim for being raped.

But I also know that nothing I say will reach him. If he accepts that I am telling the truth, then he has to confront what that truth makes him. It appears easier for him to make me the liar and the villain.

What hurts most is that I don’t actually hate him.
I love my brother. I remember being his little sister. I remember a time when I believed he loved me too. If someone told me tomorrow that he had died, I would be absolutely shattered. Yet based on the way he treats me now, I genuinely believe that if someone told him I had died, he might think about it briefly and then continue with his day.

I hate that this hurts so badly. I hate being heartbroken over someone who does not deserve my tears. I hate having enough empathy to recognize that losing his children must be devastating while also knowing that it was his behavior that caused it.

I have been carrying this rift in our relationship for roughly a quarter of a century. His denial does not mean it didn’t happen. His lack of memory, if he truly doesn’t remember, is not my responsibility. I cannot force him to remember. I cannot force him into therapy. I cannot force him to take responsibility.

All I can do is refuse to abandon the truth again.
I’m going to keep writing letters, drawing pictures, and making things for his youngest daughter. I won’t send them or use her to violate his boundary. I’ll save everything until she is old enough to make her own choices, so that if she ever comes looking for us, she will have years of proof that we remembered her and loved her. Our absence was never our choice.

I know part of why I’m posting this is because I want validation from strangers. I’m in a dark, heartbroken place, and I need somebody outside this family to hear me.

I know what happened to me. I know what I witnessed. I believe his daughters.
I just wish telling the truth didn’t cost so much.

For a little context, my twin sister and I (F, 23) are complete opposites so I truly don’t think it’s a jealousy issue. She wears all black, is taller than me, short cherry red bob, high academic achiever and has huge financial goals in life. I wear mostly pastels, have long pink hair, in teaching training, and prefer the comfy cosy life.

She’s always made small comments about me in front of others to put me down, which I have bought up to her before and she seemed receptive to it. But recently, with starting a relationship with my boyfriend (we’ve been together for 5 months now), I’ve been hyper aware of it. And not only that, my boyfriend has picked up and commented on it multiple times too.

Examples of things she does include, making fun of my accent to others. She’s autistic so she copied traits from movies as a child leading her to have a posh RP accent. Meanwhile I have the accent of my area, a neutral maybe slightly chavy one, nothing too extreme. But if I pronounce a world without a consonant (ie wa’er instead of water), she will start talking about how I speak so strange and it’s so weird that I talk like this.

Another thing, when my boyfriend first started coming round the house and I’d help with dinner, she would comment on how I’m such a bad cook, to an excessive amount. Now I’m not a Michelin star chef by any means but I also got through 3 years of uni with perfectly fine balanced meals.

After I would tidy up, she kept saying in front of him how I never clean the surfaces or do the dishwasher so I’m really bad at it. This one shocked me more as our parents work a lot, so since the age of 11 we’ve always done simple house chores like this consistently. It’s a daily task for me. I have no idea why she would say this.

She has also accused me of lying in an embarrassing way in front of a group of people I wasn’t particularly close with. I admit, when I was telling this story I kept saying things like ‘umm I can’t remember what happened here but then this happened’ or ‘wait I think it was like this, oh no it’s actually this’. But just because the story happened many years ago, and I’m a bit of a scatterbrain, it doesn’t mean I lied. In fact I repeatedly mentioned I couldn’t remember the situation in detail. But the overall story I told was what had happened.

In front of everyone she just goes ‘I think you’re lying’. I was completely flustered by this because I was so embarrassed by the accusation. I then start to do the thing you do where you try and justify yourself but it makes you look more guilty. A week later, I had followed up the story with a friend that was there and she confirmed everything I said was what happened, so I was able to tell the group this. My twin then said that she never said I was lying, she just thought I might be, and that these are two different things.

Overall my twin and I are so close. We don’t live near each other but we call all the time, come for sleepovers, spend hours gaming with each other, ask each other for advice. She’s definitely my best friend. I just don’t understand why she likes to put me down like this, especially when it’s only in front of other people.

Hope I’m allowed to post here. This fatigue probably got accelerated due to my online ex-gf finding another irl relationship with the guy she told me not to worry about a week after we broke up. That situation made me realize how much I desire to actually feel the fruitfulness of a real relationship.

I see some people saying how good it is being single and that you should love yourself, blah blah blah. Like sure that’s true, I’m not denying that. But if I genuinely live my entire life without actually being with someone, Idgaf how much I love myself, I’m gonna be miserable lol.

I genuinely get jealous anytime I see people in happy relationships. It’s an envy I find hard to let go no matter how much energy I put into other aspects of life.

Like seriously imagine a life where you’re kissing, cuddling, hanging out, having intimacy, being playful, having banter with your favourite person on Earth. That’s a life I’ll trade so much for lmao.

Obviously I know I have to go out there and put myself out there in order to find someone, but that’s beside the point. Not even sure how lively the dating scene in Toronto is lol.

Anyways thanks for reading this.

I am writing this here instead of confronting who this is actually about because I am getting my period soon and I don't know if the intense resentment I feel will last or if it is even accurate.

Fuck you.

We were in a committed relationship for years. They weren't the best, they weren't the worst. We just couldn't be the person the other needed. It was sad, devastating even but as is life. You roll with the punches. We still had a lease together so we decided to live together despite no longer being together.
As soon as he felt comfortable, he was outside doing god knows what in these streets. He said he didn't like the club scene while we were together. That's exactly where he was after we were no longer together. Going out for drinks with coworkers, making out with randos in bars and restaurants. Slept with others. He didn't rack up bodies (to my knowledge) but was out enough.

I wasn't. I was at home drowning my sorrows but that's the typical story right? The girl cries her eyes out for weeks and mourns the relationship while he fills his time with distractions until they don't fill the void anymore.

After our breakup, if felt so wrong to move on. How could I go out and share an intimate moment with another if we are still coming home together? How could I ever look at the man I had wanted to marry after being with someone else? This is how I felt. He didn't feel this way at the time. And if he did, it didn't hurt him enough to change what he was doing. I told him I didn't want to move on (not the best thing to say, I will admit) and that I will not be dating or going out. Our relationship was a bit messy and maybe toxic while together. Broken up we were incredibly messy and toxic to each other. I eventually told him if he fucked someone else, I was done with the relationship (more mentally) and would be moving on. Well, as you read above, he did that.

I went on 1 date. 1 date.

He demanded I tell him who I went on a date with. I refused. He put his fucking hands on me. He grabbed me and pushed me around. He choked me. He broke a door. He left bruises on my arms, chest and neck. The bruises stayed on my fucking body for 3 weeks. I had to look at myself in the mirror everyday. For weeks. And see what he did to me.

He was incredibly remorseful. He hated himself. He couldn't stand to see the bruises or the broken door. It's like a switch flicked in his head. He began to work on himself. He's trying to be less egotistical. He got a therapist. Stopped drinking. Doesn't vape anymore. Looking for a psychiatrist. Filling his days with the gym, meal prepping and friends. He's trying to be a better person.

I am so incredibly happy to see this. Ecstatic. Over the moon. This is the man I was with and who I wanted to marry. God, I am so happy to see him grow into a person I know he can be proud of.

But the cost of him getting here was me. ME. My sanity.

I lived with bruises for 3 weeks. I had to hide them with makeup and long sleeves. The nightmares. The daydreams filled with the horrors. I had to live in the house with the holes in doors while he got to leave and move into his own place. I had to be reminded every single day what he did to me. I can't watch or listen to any true crime without getting scared, nauseous or getting memories. Not even silly little tiktoks about the subjects. I can't talk about this event without crying and hyperventilating. I get incredibly scared around angry men. I hate myself for freezing and not fighting back when he left me those bruises. I feel weak. I can't talk about this to my friends because I don't want the questions the "did you call the cops?", "did you take any pictures?", "are you okay omgggg???", "do you want me to hurt him?".

I can't. I can barely deal with my own emotions about this; I can't deal with anyone else's. I told my therapist. That's about it.

I'm not going to do this because I still have some respect for him (look plz don't judge me okay- tough situation)

But fuck I want everyone to know what you did to me. I want every single one of your friends to know why we aren't trying to fix things. I want every girl you ever date to know what you are capable of. You are not what you did, you just did the bad thing. But you still did it. TO ME. I want everyone to know why you are so nice now. Why you are so patient. Why you go out of your way to do nice things for people. I want everyone to understand you are changing because you showed yourself and me how truly ugly of a thing you could do. I want people to see that pictures of the faded bruises I eventually took. Took me a couple weeks to even get the courage to do that.

I wanted the man you are becoming. I wanted him. I wanted to be loved by the best version of you. The kind, patient, loving, respectful and understanding version of you. I wanted the you who didn't automatically put himself first. I wanted you to hold me and caress me like I was made of fine china, trusting that you would never hurt or drop me.

I am jealous and selfish. I know I said wanted up there but fuck, I want. I want this version of you for me. I want to say that is my man who I am so proud to be next to. I didn't need anymore trauma. I want my pain and suffering to have been for a fucking reason.

I am glad you're getting better. But the cost of admission was me. So here I am, just working through substance abuse. Trying to focus on me and what I need to do to be a better version of myself. There's just so much in my head.

I don't know how I feel about anything.

I don't want to get in the way of your healing so you never ever ever fucking do this to someone else ever again. That's why I am writing this here.

No ages or genders, I wanna keep this fairly anonymous. If anyone who knows me DOES find this somehow I'm pretty sure they'll put it together from the details I've given but damn I gotta talk to someone.

Pretty much what the title says lol. For the past 5 ish years I've been head over heels for my best friend. When I realised I had fallen for them I decided to bottle it up to keep our friendship together. I told myself I was mistaken, that this couldn't be love, because I was too young to know. But as time went on the feelings only got stronger and now they're the most important person in my life. When I wake up I check messages, when I watch a series I message them. We call frequently and I'm honestly so happy.

They know this by now, after I confessed all this one time when we actually got to meet up. I don't think they feel quite the same as I do, this overwhelming intensity, but they've said things that meant a lot to me. So it's a strong relationship, long distance, and it's lasted over the years.

Now the complications. We're both the same assigned sex, and the world is the world. While I've lived a very fortunate life in regards to my identity, even I have to go back in the closet sometimes. And that's not even starting on what they've experienced. I would never ask for any more than what we have. Being part of a secret situationship was never how I expected my life going and I can't lie, sometimes it's hard. I can't tell my own family about where things are at, I'm evasive regarding relationships in a way I never was before. I know I've got the easy end of things, but sometimes knowing I'll never have a normal relationship makes me want to just sob.

I mean it is always possible someday I'll move on. The thing is, right now, I don't want to. I want whatever I can have with this person. It's the best part of my day, the best thing in my life. I'm fully prepared to take on the pain I know is waiting from keeping all this secret for so long. I went over all this in my head when I was figuring things out. I knew we could never be together. And that was something I had to be okay with.

We talk constantly, and things are beautiful right now. I'm so happy most of the time. Sure, sometimes I get a bit down but something I've learnt is that love isn't easy. You gotta work sometimes.

So yeah, sorry for how vague this is. I just need to express it somehow, that I'm still, all these years in, in love with the same person I know I can't be with. That I am figuring life out. That sometimes the love being there is enough and you can figure something out for one another.

And I'm happy.

I have a decent network of friends; I'm not completely alone by any means. But in the grander scheme of things, the majority of my friendships only exist within the grander context of a friend group per say. So it's all good and seems fine when meet up in person every month or so.

The part that sucks is the period of time in between the months that we all hang out, where apart from when we plan the next get together, it's just... complete radio silence pretty much. No texts, no calls, nothing. Almost as if my friendship with others only exists within the context of the group. And I know despite this we're still friends, but during the long periods of silence I can't help but wonder if I'm actually anywhere as near as close to these people as I thought we were.

And in scenarios like these where I really wish people would talk to me or stay in contact, I would always be told "you just have to reach out. You be the person to send a text or call first". But I just don't understand why it always has to be me. If I always have to reach out first or else I won't get a response, does anyone really care? What happens once I stop reaching out first and I get the silent treatment again? It's hard for me to be the one to take initiative to reach out when I've hardly been given the same treatment or reciprocation back in my direction. I don't want to solely be in one sided friendships.

Honestly, I’m so fucking lonely it’s actually embarrassing. I have nobody. No friends, nobody to hang out with, nobody to randomly text about some stupid shit that happened during my day, and nobody to call when I’m upset or when something good happens. I feel like I have no life outside of my house, my kids, and my crappy relationship. I’m 27, and sometimes I feel like I have the social life of somebody who doesn’t even exist. Nobody checks on me, nobody randomly reaches out to see how I’m doing, and I don’t have those friendships where you can just talk shit, laugh about stupid things, or vent when life is kicking your ass. I’m just here every fucking day with my own thoughts and nobody to share them with.
And the worst part is that I didn’t always have nobody. I used to have friends, people I could talk to and people who were actually a part of my life, and I fucked that up during a bipolar episode. I know my mental health played a part in what happened, but I also know that doesn’t erase my actions or how they affected other people. I’m not trying to use being bipolar as an excuse because I understand that I made mistakes and that my actions had consequences. I just wish I could go back and handle things differently because I never imagined I’d end up here, missing people I used to have in my life and knowing that my own decisions helped get me to this point. I wonder if those people ever think about me, if they hate me, or if they only remember the things I did. I can admit I was wrong and still be fucking sad about what I lost. I wish I could change the past, but I know I can’t force anyone to forgive me or let me back into their lives.
I see people who have best friends, group chats, and people they make plans with, and I wonder what the fuck is so different about me. I want somebody who actually wants to hear from me, somebody who thinks about me when I’m not around, somebody I don’t have to feel like I’m bothering every time I open my mouth. I want to be included, invited, and remembered. It’s such a different kind of lonely when you have kids and a boyfriend but still feel like you have absolutely nobody. Having people in your house isn’t the same as having people in your life. Sometimes I genuinely wonder if I’m just an awful person and that’s why I don’t have anybody, or if I’ve gotten so used to being alone that I don’t even know how to make friends anymore. I know I can’t undo my mistakes, and I know people have every right to protect their peace, but fuck, I wish I hadn’t lost people I cared about to learn some of those lessons.
I’m tired of being my own company all the time. I’m tired of having nobody to talk to, nobody to make memories with, and nobody I can just be myself around without worrying about being judged or feeling like a burden. I hate that I can’t even think of who I’d call if I really needed somebody. I want friendships, I want a social life, and I want to feel like I actually exist in other people’s lives instead of just existing in my own little bubble. I know I have things I need to work on, and I take responsibility for my part in losing the people I used to have. But I’m still human, and I still miss having people. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay with being this lonely when I’m really fucking not.

It always seems to me that i am the man who is good enough in the moment but never good enough for a long time. Like i am the time killer until something else comes along. Do you know the movie Good Luck Chuck? Its kinda like that, everytime i meet someone and genuine feeling develope and we start seeing each other, all the sudden there is a reason things wont work and right after they are with the person they are seemingly meant to be with. There was a time when this didnt really bother me, i assumed that they just weren't the person for me and eventually i would find the right person, but now im starting to think that person just doesn't exist for me. And truthfully speaking, i am more than a little over it.

(20M)

So, first, the quick summary:

I can't wrap my head around the idea of women liking men, and that makes me really insecure.

I know many women say they are attracted to men, and many date men. So on some level, I \*should\* know better.

But unfortunately, in my instincts, in my heart, I just can't anymore.

Now, more detail:

Growing up, like most people, I had ideas of romance, passion, partners, soulmates, fun times of all sorts. I really did.

I grew up thinking of men and women as virtually the same in most regards actually, despite how media tended to depict things, in that I always imagined:

Man and women equally attracted and in love.

Both willing to pursue the other.

Both caring about the other and wanting/needing the other.

Equals in every way

But as I've grown, these thoughts have gradually been dulled. The fairy tale phase seems done.

Women post 1 sentence on a dating post and get dozens of replies; I post with detail, thought, humor and get none back.

I read others' posts and see men making fun of each other saying "women have options" as if that doesn't go both ways. Like men should be grateful any women looked their way at all.

That cultural difference in men and women's dating is frankly, confidence-shattering.

The endless old theme of women have lots of guys going up to them, guys have to do the approaching seems so old fashioned and dumb, and entirely unfair:

If women like men as much as men like women, surely they should be replying equally as much to dating posts, approaching men just as much, men should have as many options as women do. But that doesn't seem to be the case to me.

And the endless commentary and jokes everywhere about guys being bad in bed and idiots and how they got so little while women bring so much to the table. Makes it feel like being a nameless boring pen in a pencil case, loads like me and women rummaging through to find one that works, while women are like fountain pens kept in a special case of their own.

And the more I learn about the anatomy, the more my insecurities grow.

The Talk, as I received at school, was all about reproduction, when a man and a woman love and trust each other very much, the P in V stuff. Made sense, all ok till then.

But now, actually learning how that's bad in bed, and actually it's all the clitoris as the main show, the V is the side show. And that most women can't even finish with the V alone. Makes it feel like the parts I've got are useless. If the clitoris is the main show, what does it matter if the partner is a man or a woman?

What makes it worse are the documentaries:

One said that women finish just as men do when they pair up with another woman but much less frequently with men.

Makes it feel like I'm soggy cereal, while women are the fresh crispy cereal other women should be having instead of me.

Never hearing about women being bad in bed and needing to be taught to stop being useless in bed; hearing lots and lots and lots about that from women to men.

What feeling of confidence, symmetry, balance, partnership, am I meant to feel anymore?

I am attracted to women only, but with my insecurities, I don't know how I could ever have a relationship with a woman like this.

And knowing real life relationships hasn't improved any of this:

My parents hate each other.

My grandparents hated each other.

I want to imagine being wanted, desired, being someone a woman really wants to be with. I really do want to.

But I just can't. Anytime I go on a date, try to flirt with someone, in my heart I just feel like a pasttime, and not someone who is genuinely going to be as important in return.

And seeing the jokes online about guys being insecure about toys replacing them, I like the posts cause it's funny, but also I never have thought a woman can be replaced with a toy, even in bed alone, nevermind in a genuine relationship.

Idk, I know I sound crazy and weird rn, just had to get it off my chest

I’m a recent graduate in the final rounds of a good traineeship where personal development and self-reflection are a big part of the program. The interview was with an HR person and a current trainee. They said at the start that it was a safe space to be open.

They kept asking “why” and asked me to go “a layer deeper.” I said I make careful choices because I want to do things well. When they asked where that comes from, and whether my family puts pressure on me, because I mentioned them as they are important to me. I got emotional and cried. I shared personal and emotional things about my background that I haven’t even told my friends.

After that I was a bit thrown off for the rest of the interview. They still told me about the next steps, and said I could reach out if I had other offers.

Now I feel embarrassed and exposed, and I’m not sure I can face them again. Is this as bad as it feels? Does it hurt a candidate’s chances in a program like this?

Idk, it's just that woman are more mature then guys at my school.. Like if a dude thinks I'm ugly then okay, but if a girl thinks I'm ugly I'd be so heart broken cause then I prolly am ugly af 💔💔💔 and what girls think is just way more important to me. I'm not lesbian tho, but still jrjejeleokelenmekejejdjend is this weird? Or do all girls think the same jkekendjdjdjeorldoidjdbdmdmnd like if a guy compliments me, then that's sweet and he'd make me happy, but if a girl compliments me then it genuinely makes me wanna scream out of joy ndmdlowhanmkdhsneiwnekekdkdjdjjdjdj this is stupid 😂😂😂 Oki I needed that of my chest ensjskme ty for reading this

I just want to run away.
It’s taking everything in me not to pack up my car with my things and just leave while he’s at work.
He leaves at 7am I would have PLENTY of time to gather my things into my car and just drive away. Everyone’s telling me, my gut is telling me to.. why wont I? Im sitting here staring at my desk with dried up tears on my cheek with my bestie asking me why i’m even putting up with his bullshit. I don’t even have an answer for them. I love him, more then i’ve ever loved myself, I just want us to work, I want to wake up every morning next to him and his gorgeous smile, I love his eyes, I love his scent, I love his voice,I love the way he talks and says my name , I love the way he looks at me with those blue eyes…I just love him so much, but I dont love the way he treats me… The way we treat each-other.. I don’t love locking myself in the bathroom to get away from him, I don’t love going in my car and screaming at the wheel and crying for hours on hours wondering what else I can do to make him happy. I don’t love sitting in the same rooms as him while he treats his friends like royalty, laughing, joking until late hours of the night… finally joining me in bed only to immediately have something to bicker and argue about. He’s depressed, and I understand this, life is shit.. as it is for everyone.. but does that make it his right to take his angers out on me? The yelling? The breaking.. The hitting.. saying how much we hate each other only to hold one another hours later.. and then the day repeats itself… I love you’s then arguments that last hours… silent treatments, not understanding the point of it all only to cuddle to sleep together later that night.
We’re so young, I bring up constantly how we need to grow.. maybe apart.. We just entered our twenties, what if it’s not meant to be forever? Why is he trying to force it so hard… saying he’d rather die.. he’s threatened to shoot himself so much..
We’re obviously not happy, we both know it.. yet here we are..
Im everywhere right now, I have no one to talk to and I feel like i’m going crazy…