After a month long coma last year after an attempt, I’ve put so much work into my mental health and I’ve never been happier and more proud to be alive.

Years back. Me and live in ex partner rented a place away from his parents so we could have privacy and start making a family. Few months later his brother stayed for a couple of days (over a week) due to slow internet connection at their property.

Because of this me and my partner felt awkward getting kinky together. Most of the time i refuse because i dont want his brother to hear noises that we are making.

Few days later. I noticed my worn underwear have with stain everytime i do the laundry. And i know what i think it is. I ignored and i dont mind because his my partner at that time.

Until one day i decided to do the laundry beyond my usual schedule. My ex partner is at work and will go home by 6 pm. I noticed that the stain on my undies are still wet and fresh as i can tell.

I touched and i smelled it. And i can confirm that it is what i think it is. Felt awkward around him. Noticed him looking at me but i ignored it back then. He left after they got their internet connection fixed. Never told my ex partner even after we broke up years ago.

EDIT: I can't reply to all the comments, but I deeply appreciate everyone who showed sympathy and support. Thank you all so much!

I acttually felt a wave of arousal and excitement because I assumed it was my partner who had done that. I even smiled while washing my underwear, feeling happy thinking that my husband that time was so turned on by me that he used it to pleasure himself. But learning that it was actually his brother completely changed everything. I feel so much guilt now for having those feelings, simply because I didn't know the truth at the time.

Throwaway account.

Recently I discovered TikTok auctions and got into a few specific channels. The items I bought are all legit and really nice jewelry. I did not realize how out of control I got until my credit card statement arrived. $22K!

While I realize this is a a lot of money it is not going to put me or my husband in a financial crisis. I can pay the entire sum without going into my savings but it is significant to our finances. We keep our money separate, including banks and credit cards. He has no idea I have spent this much.

About a week ago my husband decided we should look for a house. This came out of nowhere. I was supportive and we even went out and saw a few places. We have a realtor. It was not until after a few days of seeing the houses I saw my credit card statement and realized what I had done.

Next week we are going to see lenders to figure out what we can borrow and what our interest rate will be. We both have excellent credit, we are never late with any bills and have zero debt. I’m paying off the full statement balance ahead of that meeting, but this large sum will likely come up.

I need to tell him about all this ahead of seeing the lenders and obviously I am dreading it. He will definitely be angry. I will still be able to put in my full share of the down payment, but it was a lot to spend right before the biggest purchase of our lives.

I’m so nervous but he needs to hear it from me rather than in the lenders office.

I know I’m a coward. You don't have to tell me. I already feel like the scum of the earth every single time I look down at my left hand.

Three years ago, I went on a weekend camping trip with two college buddies. We were washing dishes in a freezing river, my hands were numb, and my wedding ring—a custom platinum band with our wedding date and coordinates engraved inside—slipped off my finger and vanished into the rocky rapids.

I spent three hours waist-deep in ice water frantically digging through pebbles until my fingers were bleeding. Nothing.

I panicked. Pure, irrational terror. My wife had spent months designing that ring with an independent jeweler, and the thought of coming home and telling her I lost it after fourteen months of marriage made me physically sick. So while driving back, I found a nearly identical titanium replica on Amazon with same-day delivery for $28. I took it to a local mall engraver, paid $15 to copy the font, and slipped it on before I walked through our front door.

It’s been three years. Last week for our anniversary, she held my hand across teh table, traced the band with her thumb, and smiled, telling me how much she loves seeing me wear "the exact ring we exchanged vows with."

I smiled back and kissed her, but I wanted to vomit into my pasta. I’m taking this secret to the grave.

​

Im a decent looking 30M. Was an athlete growing up so I've always been athletic.

I work a sales job currently and the receptionist is really cute but in lack of a better a term, she's fat.

She's in her mid 30s married with kids.

I'm a very flirty person naturally and I guess she doesn't get much attention outside her marriage because she eats it up.

She brings me food, laughs so hard at every joke I say, and compliments me constantly.

She is married but gets upset every time I ask her about her husband.

Before the 4th of July weekend we were making small talk. I was telling her I'd probably grill some hot dogs and burgers with the family.

She said "I can't remember the last time I had a hot dog"

The 14 year old boy in me came out and I was like "I've got a got dog you can have"

I got bright red and before I could even apologize she said ok and asked me to meet me in her car for lunch

I ended up going and she moved her car to a spot facing away from the building. She then proceeded to give me the sloppiest top I've ever gotten.

Every day since she texts me "hot dog time?" At lunch and we do the same thing

When I say every day I mean every single day monday-Friday. She does not miss a single opportunity

Part of me feels bad knowing she has a husband but then part of me feels like im doing her a favor because in any other context theres no shot I'd ever get with a bigger girl.

When I asked her if she felt bad she said that shes been way more intimate with her husband since she started because it gets her in the mood.

I know it sounds douchey but I feel like im doing her and her husband a favor and I don't really want to stop.

so for background, I work as a pharmacy tech (trained in-house, but not licensed in my state or anything) in a chain retail pharmacy store. this is my first job (m21) and I've been here almost a year, and I only really took it because it happened to be the first place that hired me. I have no interest in a healthcare career.

I'm constantly being told they want to 'move me up the bench', have me doing more data entry and adjudication stuff, but because we keep losing staff (they quit, or they get sick or injured, or some just fucking straight up disappeared I swear) I keep going on customer service, i.e. handling the register. combine the public in a retail setting with the public in a healthcare setting and.. yeah it's not fun.

I'm also covering for a coworker who is out for a surgery. it was supposed to be just october but now we don't know when she's coming back. I've gone from 4-5 days a week, 28 hours max, to upwards of 40hrs and 6 days a week. I was hired as part time and I specifically applied to part time jobs because I knew I couldn't handle a full time job. now I'm working more than some full time coworkers with part time pay and no benefits or anything. I don't even get pto if I can't work I just lose out on that pay.

I am sick of being overworked and verbally abused by customers and coming home brain dead, exhausted and emotionally drained. maybe it'd be different if I actually was moved up thr bench.. but while I do believe they want to, I don't believe they will, simply because they can't. we don't have the staff to do so and other people are more important to other roles than I am so I will always be moved to the register.

on top of this I have a coworker who really sucks ass at her job, she causes more issues than anything and constantly complains that I smell bad no matter what I do, even when several others that dsy have commented that I smell nice.

I also heard the pharmacist talking shit about me "standing around doing nothing" while on register which I won't even get into but is definitely not true. fuck, I do more than him some days.

it's a small town so my parents know a lot of people so I have a few options lined up that I'm hopefully likely to get, or at least I've got people there that will speak good for me.

I don't plan to tell anyone until I have a job lined up and submit my 2 weeks notice. I feel like an ass because I know we're in the busy season and desperately need staff and they'll be losing a good employee with me (they've made it clear I'm good, I'm not patting my own back, I think anyway) and I've debated staying at least until we're not so busy.. but this is rhe only pharmacy in town, it's never gonna be calmer. we probably won't ever be properly fully staffed. and I know I'll end up saying well I can stay at least until xyz and not leaving at all. but I can't stay on a sinking ship just because I feel bad for everyone else on it.

I don't remember what exactly made me finally snap cuz I've been debating this for a while, but tonight I'm applying to some jobs and drafting up a 2 weeks notice with my mom's help I think. she's very good at professional writing shit iykwim.

idk when I'll get a new job but I hope it's soon, in the meantime I need to talk to them about lowering my hours again. head tech keeps saying think about the money but I'm not really making much more, especially after taxes and shit. it's actually becoming more expensive to work so much.

I just had to get this off my chest.

I found a glitch on this cam girl site that as you pressed buy on the chips you wanted and switched it to most expensive chip package it would charge me only the smallest amount I clicked.... I probably ripped them off for thousands over the few months I was addicted to that kind of thing... Always wonder if some mobster is pissed off at me somewhere

Tengo 53 años, perdí la convivencia diaria con mis hijos por mis errores y estoy intentando reconstruir mi vida

Advertencia: esta publicación habla de relaciones sentimentales difíciles, violencia familiar, separación de mis hijos y arrepentimiento.

Tengo 53 años, soy de El Salvador y llevo bastante tiempo cargando con una historia que todavía me cuesta contar sin sentir dolor.

No escribo esto para conseguir lástima, justificar mis errores ni hacer que otras personas odien a las mujeres que formaron parte de mi vida. Tampoco espero que desconocidos me absuelvan de mis responsabilidades.

Quiero contar mi historia porque estoy intentando comprender cómo llegué hasta aquí y cómo puedo continuar viviendo con las consecuencias de mis decisiones.

Voy a utilizar los nombres reales de las dos mujeres que forman parte de esta historia, Diana y Zulma, pero no publicaré los nombres, fotografías ni otros datos que permitan identificar a mis hijos. Ellos no tienen por qué cargar con la exposición pública de los errores de sus padres.

1. Antes de llegar a esta historia, hubo una relación con Diana

Diana fue una de las mujeres que formaron parte de mi vida antes de que comenzara la historia que más consecuencias tendría para mí.

Cuando pienso en aquella etapa, también pienso en el hombre que era entonces. Durante mucho tiempo fui alguien que decía que sí a todo el mundo, incluso cuando eso significaba dejar mis propias necesidades de lado.

No siempre supe establecer límites ni distinguir entre amar a alguien y aceptar situaciones que me hacían daño. También hubo momentos en los que sentí que una relación podía continuar aunque emocionalmente ya no estuviera funcionando como debía.

No quiero inventar detalles sobre Diana ni presentarla como responsable de las decisiones que tomé después. Ella forma parte de mi historia y merece que cuente esa etapa con honestidad.

Lo que sí puedo reconocer es que, antes de convertirme en el hombre que soy hoy, ya tenía cosas que aprender sobre las relaciones, los límites, las emociones y la manera de afrontar los problemas.

En aquel momento no imaginaba que años después estaría mirando hacia atrás, intentando entender tantas decisiones.

1. En 2011 conocí a Zulma

En 2011 conocí a Zulma. Ella tenía 28 años.

Nuestra relación terminó convirtiéndose en una parte fundamental de mi vida. Con el tiempo formamos un hogar y tuvimos dos hijos.

No voy a decir que todo fue malo desde el principio, porque sería una manera deshonesta de contar nuestra historia. Si no hubiera habido momentos de ilusión, afecto y proyectos compartidos, probablemente no habríamos llegado a formar aquella familia.

Mis hijos cambiaron mi vida. Ser padre significó mucho para mí y sigue significando mucho, aunque hoy no pueda ejercer esa paternidad de la forma cotidiana que quisiera.

Durante un tiempo compartimos un hogar. Hubo responsabilidades, dificultades y decisiones económicas que afectaron nuestro futuro.

Con los años, sin embargo, la relación de pareja comenzó a deteriorarse. Llegó un momento en que mis sentimientos habían cambiado y ya no experimentaba la relación de la misma manera que al principio.

Hoy puedo reconocer que una relación deteriorada necesita decisiones maduras, límites y formas de resolver los conflictos que no hagan daño a nadie. En aquel momento no siempre supe manejar las cosas de esa manera.

1. Una decisión laboral que después lamentaría

En octubre de 2018 dejé mi trabajo para dedicarme a un proyecto de encomiendas relacionado con la actividad comercial de Zulma, que vendía productos por Facebook.

En aquel momento tomé esa decisión pensando en las circunstancias que estábamos viviendo y, sobre todo, en la posibilidad de estar más cerca de mis hijos.

Con el paso del tiempo comencé a considerar aquella decisión uno de los grandes errores económicos de mi vida.

No puedo asegurar que, si hubiera continuado en mi empleo anterior, todo habría salido bien. La vida no funciona con garantías. Pero sí sé que aquella decisión tuvo consecuencias importantes para mi estabilidad y para las opciones que tenía después.

A veces uno toma decisiones creyendo que está haciendo lo necesario para sostener una familia y termina descubriendo que también ha puesto en riesgo su propia seguridad económica.

Hoy, cuando miro hacia atrás, me pregunto qué habría pasado si hubiera actuado de otra manera.

Sé que esa pregunta no cambia el pasado, pero todavía me acompaña.

1. La desconfianza y el deterioro de la relación

Durante 2019 comenzaron a crecer mis sospechas y mi desconfianza.

Recuerdo que, alrededor de junio o julio de ese año, Zulma cambió la contraseña de su teléfono. Para mí, aquello se convirtió en motivo de sospecha.

No quiero presentar mis sospechas como pruebas de una infidelidad ni afirmar cosas que no puedo demostrar. Lo importante para esta historia es reconocer lo que ocurrió dentro de mí: la desconfianza creció, mi manera de afrontar los conflictos fue empeorando y no supe manejar mis emociones de una forma segura.

Una cosa es sentirse herido, desconfiar o temer que una relación se esté terminando. Otra muy diferente es creer que esos sentimientos le dan a uno derecho a controlar, amenazar o agredir a otra persona.

Yo no entendí esa diferencia de la manera en que debía haberla entendido.

Y el resultado fue uno de los acontecimientos más graves de mi vida.

1. La noche del 7 al 8 de septiembre de 2019

Esta es la parte que más me cuesta contar y en la que no quiero esconderme detrás de explicaciones.

La noche del 7 de septiembre de 2019, Zulma no regresó a casa durante la noche. Volvió aproximadamente a las seis de la mañana y, según recuerdo, olía a alcohol.

Yo estaba enojado y dominado por mis sospechas.

Lo que hice después fue inaceptable: la agarré por el cuello y le puse un cuchillo en el cuello para exigirle que me dijera dónde había estado.

Mis hijos estaban presentes.

No hay una sospecha, una discusión, una posible infidelidad ni una herida emocional que justifique lo que hice. Pude haberme alejado, haber terminado la relación o haber buscado ayuda. En lugar de eso, recurrí a la violencia y amenacé a una persona con un arma blanca.

Fue una decisión grave. Puso a Zulma en peligro y expuso a mis hijos a una situación que ningún niño debería tener que presenciar.

No cuento esto para que alguien me diga que tenía razón por estar enojado. No la tenía para actuar así.

Tampoco puedo borrar lo sucedido simplemente porque hoy me arrepienta.

Hubo consecuencias legales y familiares. Se presentó una denuncia, se establecieron medidas que afectaron mi convivencia con mis hijos y, en noviembre de 2019, ellos dejaron de vivir conmigo.

Desde entonces mi vida cambió de una manera que todavía me cuesta procesar.

1. La pérdida de la convivencia diaria con mis hijos

Desde noviembre de 2019 mis hijos ya no viven conmigo.

Esta es la pérdida que más me ha marcado.

No estoy hablando solamente de haber terminado una relación sentimental. Estoy hablando de dejar de compartir la vida cotidiana con mis hijos.

Ya no puedo estar con ellos cada mañana, acostarlos por la noche, verlos crecer día a día ni acompañarlos de la misma forma en las pequeñas cosas que construyen la relación entre un padre y sus hijos.

Con el tiempo, el contacto se ha vuelto limitado y depende de las circunstancias y de las posibilidades de vernos. Muchas veces nuestra comunicación ocurre por teléfono y nuestras conversaciones son breves.

A veces me pregunto si todavía me ven como su padre de la misma manera que antes. Me preocupa que la distancia termine convirtiéndome en alguien que aparece ocasionalmente, en lugar de ser una presencia constante en sus vidas.

Sé que no puedo exigirles que sientan algo determinado. Ellos tienen sus propias experiencias y también pudieron resultar afectados por lo que ocurrió.

No quiero obligarlos a escoger bandos ni convertirlos en mensajeros entre sus padres. Quiero que puedan construir su propia relación conmigo, sin presiones y sin tener que hacerse responsables de mis emociones.

Pero eso no significa que la distancia no me duela.

1. Los momentos felices también duelen

Hace poco pude compartir mi cumpleaños con mis hijos y su madre.

Para mí fue un momento muy importante. Compartimos pastel, pizza y sorbete. Yo estaba feliz de tenerlos cerca, de verlos y de poder celebrar con ellos.

Pero también pagué por todo y, cuando terminó la celebración, regresé a mi casa sin ellos.

Puede parecer una situación cotidiana para alguien que no ha vivido algo parecido. Para mí fue una mezcla de alegría y tristeza.

Me alegré de compartir con ellos, pero al mismo tiempo recordé que ya no podía tenerlos conmigo todos los días.

Extraño cosas que quizá otras personas dan por sentadas: dormir cerca de mis hijos, arroparlos, abrazarlos, chinearlos, escucharlos hablar de sus intereses y estar presente cuando necesitan a su papá.

No quiero que nuestra relación se limite al dinero. Quiero compartir tiempo con ellos sin sentir que tengo que pagar una comida o comprar algo para que el encuentro tenga valor.

Sé que mantenerlos y ayudarlos económicamente forma parte de mis responsabilidades. Pero también necesito encontrar maneras de fortalecer nuestro vínculo que no dependan del dinero.

A veces me pregunto si algún día podré recuperar algo de aquella cercanía.

No espero que el pasado regrese exactamente como era. Solo quisiera que todavía hubiera espacio para construir algo bonito con ellos.

1. El arrepentimiento de haber conocido a Zulma

Hay algo que me cuesta admitir: a veces me arrepiento de haber conocido a Zulma.

Cuando digo eso, no significa que quiera negar la existencia de mis hijos ni que no los ame. Significa que, cuando pienso en todo lo que sucedió después de aquella relación, me pregunto si habría sido mejor que nuestras vidas hubieran tomado caminos diferentes.

Me duele pensar que mis hijos y yo hemos sufrido por lo que ocurrió.

También sé que no puedo cambiar el hecho de haberlos traído a este mundo ni borrar las decisiones que tomé. No quiero que ellos interpreten mi arrepentimiento como si su existencia hubiera sido un error.

Mis hijos no son el error que cometí. Son personas que amo y que merecen tener su propia vida, su propia tranquilidad y la oportunidad de construir una relación conmigo sin cargar con la culpa de lo que pasó entre los adultos.

La responsabilidad por mi conducta me corresponde a mí.

Y aunque me cueste aceptarlo, no puedo cambiar el pasado castigándome mentalmente todos los días.

1. El hombre que soy hoy, a los 53 años

Hoy tengo 53 años y estoy intentando reconstruir mi vida en El Salvador.

Trabajo, cumplo con mis obligaciones económicas y trato de organizar mis recursos, aunque no siempre me resulta fácil.

Tengo metas pequeñas que para mí representan mucho: comprar una refrigeradora, equipar mi hogar poco a poco, ordenar mis finanzas y crear un espacio donde pueda vivir con mayor tranquilidad.

Estoy aprendiendo a pensar también en mi propio futuro.

Eso no significa que haya dejado de extrañar a mis hijos ni que esté renunciando a ser parte de sus vidas. Significa que necesito aprender a vivir con la realidad que tengo mientras intento mejorarla.

Durante mucho tiempo sentí que mi vida estaba definida por lo que había perdido. Ahora quiero encontrar una forma de reconocer mis errores sin permitir que sean lo único que diga quién soy.

No puedo pedir que las consecuencias desaparezcan porque estoy arrepentido. Tampoco puedo exigir que otras personas confíen en mí simplemente porque ahora veo las cosas de otra manera.

Lo que sí puedo hacer es trabajar para que mis decisiones de hoy sean distintas de las que tomé en el pasado.

Quiero aprender a manejar mi ira, aceptar los límites de otras personas y relacionarme de una manera más saludable. Quiero que, si mis hijos se acercan a mí, encuentren a un padre capaz de escucharlos y respetarlos.

Y quiero aprender a tratarme con responsabilidad, sin convertir el arrepentimiento en una condena que dure toda mi vida.

1. Mi mayor lucha no es olvidar, sino aprender a seguir viviendo

Hay días en los que la tristeza me golpea con mucha fuerza.

A veces me pregunto para qué sirve trabajar tanto si no puedo compartir la vida cotidiana con mis hijos. Me he sentido reducido a alguien que aporta dinero, cuando lo que más deseo es recuperar la cercanía con ellos.

En momentos especialmente difíciles he llegado a pensar que quisiera terminar con mi vida, aunque lo que realmente he querido es que termine este dolor.

No quiero esconder esa parte de mi historia. Estoy intentando aprender a pedir ayuda y a no enfrentar esos momentos completamente solo.

Sé que mis hijos no son responsables de salvarme ni de hacerme sentir que mi vida vale la pena. Esa responsabilidad también me corresponde a mí.

Quiero encontrar razones para seguir adelante que no dependan exclusivamente de si algún día recupero la relación que deseo tener con ellos.

Porque los amo, pero también necesito aprender a vivir.

No sé cómo terminará esta historia. No sé qué relación tendré con mis hijos dentro de cinco o diez años. No puedo prometer que todas las heridas se cerrarán ni que las personas a las que hice daño llegarán a perdonarme.

Lo que sí sé es que no quiero seguir huyendo de lo que hice ni pasar el resto de mi vida siendo únicamente el hombre que cometió aquella agresión.

Quiero ser un hombre que reconoce lo que hizo, que comprende la gravedad de sus actos y que se esfuerza por no repetirlos.

Quiero ser un padre que respeta a sus hijos y que, si tiene la oportunidad de acercarse a ellos, sabe hacerlo sin exigirles que olviden.

Y quiero construir una vida en la que todavía exista espacio para la tranquilidad, el afecto, la esperanza y los nuevos comienzos.

No escribo esto para obtener un veredicto sobre quién fue el culpable de que mi familia terminara así. Sé que mi propia conducta tuvo un papel grave y que debo asumirlo.

Escribo porque tengo 53 años, porque mi historia no ha terminado y porque necesito aprender a vivir con lo que ya no puedo cambiar.

Quiero preguntarles algo a quienes hayan vivido una pérdida familiar o hayan tenido que reconstruir su vida después de cometer errores graves: ¿cómo aprendieron a asumir la responsabilidad por el pasado sin destruirse emocionalmente? ¿Cómo reconstruyeron su vida y, cuando fue posible, sus relaciones con sus hijos?

No busco que me digan que lo que hice estuvo bien. Sé que no estuvo bien.

Busco perspectivas honestas que puedan ayudarme a convertirme en una persona mejor y a seguir adelante sin negar el daño que causé.

: Just putting it out there that this isn't a literotica, I actually went through this : Also I'm not going back and forth with trolls or people calling this fake I'm just going to simply block you.

I am a 37M. One of the businesses I am involved in is creating fetish content. It is all in fun but the money is a bonus. In my time on a social app I have met 2 people (33M I'll call him Z and 33F I'll call her Aye) in the community. Both are somewhat famous and they go together. The man is more popular. He has always been a fan of what I did in the past. I ended up meeting them both 2yrs ago.

We would sometimes all three of us talk on the phone with each other, for hours. Over time we have developed a solid friendship. Their lifestyle is obviously different than mine and more luxurious. Aye started participating in the fetish community. She became very popular in it as well. Eventually Z wanted her to work with me. They both wanted it. The content would involve feet--as in foot fetish.

She is a gorgeous woman and I am very popular in the community. So ideally we want to make the best content we can for her and all parties.

Now...I have to mention that I have autism. The female friend, she also has autism. So in more ways than one we related very well to each other. I never imagined ever doing content with her. I saw her as a friend. Never cared for it. But I am a pleaser and love to help. This was a good networking opportunity for both.

She traveled to my town. I was excited to see her for the first time. I even made a gift for her. He didnt travel with her. Idk why. But another female friend I have met, before Aye, was traveling with her. When I got to the airbnb I met with Z and my other friend. The other friend couldn't participate with us because she had other ventures to get into. Me and Aye went to her room to start things.

Everything was normal for this type of thing. I warmed her up by giving a foot massage. We talked. Then made the content we needed to make. After that, we talked more. I mean for hours. She even gave me a reading with her tarot cards. It was really a vibe.

What I noticed were the comments she was making that just seemed to mean more than what I was reading. She kept commenting about the size of my private part. Which is normal because it is always seen on content. But it was how she was saying it. I started to feel kind of flattered at some point.

One thing to note is that Aye has very beautiful feet. Probably the best I have encountered doing this. So in the midst of us yapping, I started to worship her feet; that involves rubbing and kissing them. I never done that before with other ladies. But with her I felt comfortable. She felt comfortable. I asked her if she ever had her body worshiped before and she replied, no.

I noticed moaning sounds coming from her. Ignorantly that is something I did not expect. Some ladies don't get aroused from it. She gave me a look. Her eyes just pierced into me. At first all you could see was her huge lashes but at that moment I saw her eyes. One thing led to another, I started kissing her legs. It snowballed from there.

We didn't have any kind of rough sex. I can describe that as making love. Everything was sensual. From me communicating to her, going to her speed, gaining her trust not to hurt her.

The next night she asked what I was doing. I came back over because I wasn't doing anything. We ended up having sex again but it was better this time. In my almost 4 decades of living I can honestly say that was the best, most pure sexual experience I've had. She expressed the same.

The talk came up of how she would tell Z. Her and Z are poly. I've known this. But from what she explained, he gets his women. A bunch of them. She likes women more but she does like men. BUT, she doesn't like just any kind of man. When he decided to step out there more, she said that she was ready to explore herself. But he was telling her something like: Yeah you can be with another man like an old man or something like that. He even suggested she do another content creator. He also commented something like, "Idc if you go fuck 20 dicks." It was how he said it. She isn't even the type of woman to do that, at all. She was just trying to see what he was comfortable with.

From what she explained to me, she wants a gentle man. I am a gentle man. Z isn't so sensual with her. Also he keeps another woman around from the community that we all know; she doesn't like Aye. Which is weird to me to keep someone around that doesn't like your lady. But they have a dark dynamic that doesn't allow them to break from each other. She expressed feeling safe with me, And the fact that we are both autistic is just the icing on the cake. I told her tell him when you are ready. She said it was best to wait because he is dealing with a friend passing.

Well as soon as she flew back home, she told him. The autism in her wasn't going to wait. And she wanted to tell him in person rather than over a phone. He was mad about it. Then he said he wasn't mad about it, he only wished that he was told about it first. But I caught some posts he made on his social media about me betraying him basically. He didn't name me. The thing that bothered him was the fact that we are friends. He wanted her to do it with someone else I suppose. But again, she is extremely particular about what man she chooses to be vulnerable with; I mean SUPER picky.

She said it was her fault because she should've communicated to him first. She was trying to figure out what impression did I give him. Because it looks like I plotted on this to happen. I never plotted for this. Me and Aye didn't know this was going to happen at all. We were just going to shoot content, talk, and call it a time. But she blames herself heavy. I don't agree with it because it takes two to have that type of sex. But I understand what she was saying.

I could feel both of their hurt. Him feeling betrayed. Her feeling as confused and fucked up as I am as neurodivergent people. She said that she's never connected with an autistic man before. She cares for me deeply. I care for her as well. She is the first autistic woman I've ever had that with.

Sexually we are very compatible. Because of how I look, women generally want me to do rough sex or pound their lights out. With Aye, everything was in harmony. It was actually making love and not something out of a porn flick.

Poly life is something I just don't understand as of now. I have had a similar instance where a guy introduced me to his woman and ended up getting UPSET at her for coming over to my place. He was a FB friend of mine so it made things awkward.

I said if he is poly then what happened shouldn't be the issue, right? But I think it was because he wasn't communicated with but ultimately I am his friend. I didn't look at sex with her as someone I conquered. I actually was happy to please her. Heal her. If it were me and I were poly; if my woman who isn't comfortable with any type of guy ended up linking with a friend who I know is a very solid guy, I would've been good with it. Of course I'd be upset that I wasn't communicated with though. But ultimately, I'd be happy she's with someone safe and values her well.

We kept playing it back in our heads. We couldn't find out why we got to the point that we gotten to. All we both know is that we really enjoyed it.

But the boundaries were crossed. I feel so fucked up. Me and Aye were texting. She told me he's not laying next to her. And I know that hurt her. I don't think the community will feel the same for me anymore. I want to leave cold turkey but that is my emotions speaking. The money I make helps me at this time. I am going to just silently bow out.

I used to think the universe was speaking to me when it comes to all this dating stuff. I just think I am being laughed at. I just want to be left alone. I don't want any dating or anything. Because every time I encounter something good, it gets snatched away somehow. And now our friendships aren't the same.

I was a bright student in school. Good at studies, sports, creativity. Loved by teachers and friends. A cool extrovert kid. In my 10th std lockdown happened, board exams got cancelled and everything shattered. Teachers gave marks according to them and to my surprise I was not at 1st position, my friend was. That was really unexpected and broke my heart. But i was like it's fine let's move ahead of this. All my friends took 11 - 12 Science after 10th but clearly me being me I decided to NOT follow what everyone else was doing and pursue diploma in computer. Due to my marks I couldn't get into government college so I got admission into a well known private diploma college.

I lost my spark from there. I became an introvert. Couldn't have a conversation with people. Not confident enough. Literally it feels like I have 3 years of my life. It did not add any value to my life in these years. I lost my hunger for achieving. It felt like I lost all my qualities.

Then I got 90.23% in my diploma and got admission in Tier-3 college in Mumbai. I wanted to go to pune but as life has never given what I wanted I had to come to Mumbai. It's been 2.5 years in mumbai now. It's not like I don't like this city, in fact I love this city but I have not grown or added any kind of value to my personality.

Now I am in my 4th year of college , not placed.

I don't know DSA, maths is weak. Many times I am not able to clear my aptitude round and that's really embarrassing. I am trying to learn DSA but I am not able to. It's too hard for me. I don't know whether I will get placed or not. I have made a lot of promises to my family but not sure how I will be able to fulfill them in this lifetime. Seems I am failing.

When I was little, my parents bought a motorcycle that looked kinda like a Harley Davidson. It had big exhaust pipes on the sides and an extra seat. I thought it was the coolest thing ever.

One day, for some stupid reason, I decided to pour Coke and Fanta into the exhaust pipes. I honestly don’t even remember what was going through my head.
A few hours later, my dad tried to start the motorcycle, but it wouldn’t start. I remember standing on the balcony, watching everything and being absolutely terrified that someone would find out what I had done.
I never told anyone. Even now, years later, my parents still don’t know. I don’t even know for sure if the drinks caused the problem, but the timing was suspicious.
It’s such a stupid thing to hide for so long, but I was a kid and I was scared of getting in trouble.

Sometimes I wonder if I should finally tell them or just leave it in the past.

Many years ago I was casually seeing a guy who owned a business. He had his own place and ordered delivery every single night. I was a broke college student and $20 was a lot to me at the time. His weed budget was like $300 a week.
Anywho he was deathly terrified of having kids and one time I told him I was pregnant. He immediately asked me to get an abortion. I told him I’d think about it and after a few days I “agreed”.
I called a price and he paid it in cash. I took the money and put it in my bank account . Shit got me through six months. I actually feel bad that I don’t feel bad to this day.

Times are tough, and my husband and I have faced falling income on top of recent inflation. We've had to cut nearly every non-necessary expense, including eating out. Before times got tough we'd DoorDash pretty often, like a few times a week. We've since sworn off DoorDash entirely, and I've been making every meal at home for us for months. Except I secretly go to the mall to get Chinese food after every therapy appointment. It's $12 and I do it twice a month. I don't tell him, and he hasn't noticed on the bank account. I told him we should downgrade to ad supported plans for streaming shows and movies to save money. If I didn't go out twice a month, we wouldn't have to endure the ads. But going out to eat is my one little slice of how things used to be. It's a selfish waste of money, but after confronting my feelings for an hour I don't want to just go home and have a sad little sandwich.

This comes from when I was maybe a sophomore or jr in HS like 12+ years ago. I recently found the album I was listening to a lot during this time of my life & it made me want to talk about this since I tried to suppress it for years. In hs I started to experiment a lot with different substances. By middle school I had already been smoking squares or cigarettes & had experienced drinking alcohol. 5th grade I believe. I came up in a very weird/different home life where I didn’t see much of my mom due to her work & my dad dipped before I was even born. I mean my parents were my brother & his wife. I hated my life atp & was trying to escape reality in any way. Started doing spice, pills, all sorts of anything I could get my hands on & abuse I wanted it. Well I found out kinda randomly one night that air duster gave you an insane trip. My fam just so happened to have some lying around so one night (this was knowing the risks & reading stories ab people who did it wrong & it froze their lungs & they died right there, probably not true idk tbh) anyways so I huffed that shit & immediately like I mean immediately I blasted off to another dimension. I fucking fell in love & started telling all my druggie friends & we all started getting bad on duster. I didn’t want anyone to die so I taught them how to do it (with my limited knowledge). We were huffing straight from the red top fuck the straw. Well we had some insane fucking trips. Like stories that just sound made up. Friends w a teachers daughter was headed to their house to hang out one day, driver passed out on whippets & drove into their yard like I mean crazy fucking stories. The one that really really stuck with me tho (tbh almost all have stuck with me they were just the most insanely surreal trips.) was when I was alone & taking whippets & I was listening to Witching Hour by XXYYXX. My very small room (garage storage room, no windows) immediately engulfed into flames & suddenly Satan was behind me telling me to get closer & to basically come into hell. Two demons in front of me urging me as well. My bedroom door handle morphed into an angel who begged me to not go there & literally helped me out. I deadass was in fucking hell. After I woke back up (ended up passing out idk how long couldnt have been but maybe a minute or two max) I realized my parents were home so I went out socialized for like 20 min then back into the garage (they never went in there for the most part) & got right back to it. For some reason almost everytime I was tripping around this time I was looking to get as close to hell as possible & I had some very surreal & insane trips. Idk why I’m even writing this maybe as coping since I don’t really ever talk about it but listening again to this album is bringing back a lot of memories. I still feel really guilty about getting my friends at the time involved. I hope everyone is doing much better. It got so bad w the duster I was doing it at school in class & even passed out cold middle of class. Still to this day consider myself lucky as fuck to be able to wake up & talk myself out of trouble & they were never able to search me due to principal & vice principle being off campus at that time. I got off pretty much without anyone besides the homies who after that took my shit just in case knowing. Don’t do drugs guys. Like fr. That shit really fucked me up & probably killed off a lot of my braincells.

This in the UK, back when you could collect stamps from coffee cups and six (or maybe nine) of them would get you a loyalty coffee.

Single mum with a baby in a pram buying a chicken wrap meal? Have a student chicken mayo and loyalty coffee. Homeless person comes in with a fully stickered loyalty card given to him by bypassers? Keep it mate, here's a loyalty coffee anyway. Two pensioners? Two student chicken mayos coming right up.

Never got caught doing it luckily. Not sure if I would've lost my job if I was caught. But my reasoning for doing it was, well, I'm sure Maccies can afford it.

I am 41 and me and my wife have been together since we were 16. We went to a wedding in June where we decided we were going to explore a little bit and do mushrooms. Well we also drank a ton. I woke up at 430 am to find a mutual friend of ours butt naked in the bed with me and my wife was passed out stone cold on the couch. I literally have no idea what I did or didn’t do with this friend but I can assume with both of us having no clothes on that we did something. Our friend also has no recollection at all but I am absolutely torn as to if I say something to my wife or not. I don’t want to keep secrets from her but I also fear the repercussions of the truth. what the hell do I do?

so i made the mistake of shitting where i ate (i sucked a guy off from my class) n this is uni so its legal dw, but man does it suck to be in a constant chokehold by some fuckboy you thought was being good to you for once you finally thought you were getting something even remotely social and it flips on you like shit.

this happened like a day ago, ive got a lecture soon, idk how ill be able to look at this blokes face again, how ill deal with the possibility of him spreading this sort of information around or blackmailing me with it, ive got 4 years to spend with these shitheads from now on, idk how ill cope life was already hard enough and now ive made it worse, very very stupid i know.

if i was suicidal before i sure as shit might have reasons soon, ive got no one to hangout with but my mother and while this happened my 'friend' my only consort in my shitty work environment randomly unadded me today and wouldnt tell me why, ive been through isolation in highschool, bullying, harrassment, though a situation where the rumor itself is right next to me in my classroom for the next few years, that i dont know how ill deal with, but whatever i guess.

I’m 39M now.

I grew up poor but did not realize how bad things were, or how much people took pity on me. I never really questioned my circumstances and just accepted things as they were. My parents were hardworking, but I was also a latch-key kid. I took the bus home and it was not uncommon for me to not see my parents until 9 PM.

One day, my 5th grade teacher (Ms. N) was making small talk about whether I had seen any good movies. Ms. N was a beautiful woman and I had a crush on her. I responded that I had never been to the movies before. She felt sorry for me and offered to take me to go see a movie, as long as my parents approved. However, my parents were very strict and would never allow such a thing. I was essentially confined to my home, or my neighbor’s house. So I lied to my parents and said I was going to hang out at the neighbor’s house. And I lied to my teacher that I got permission. I figured I would be home before my parents got home and they would be none the wiser. It was the only way to get to go to the movies.

I can only recall certain details about the movies. It was a rated PG film. I can’t remember if I was the only kid or if there were others. We went to McDonald’s afterwards. I picked a booth near the trash can and she suggested we sit away from that and I agreed. She dropped me off at home. It was a magical experience for me.

Unfortunately the magic ended when I got home. Unbeknownst to me, my parents came home early and were frantically searching for me the whole time. They thought I had been kidnapped. I eventually confessed that Ms. N took me to the movies. What I neglected to tell them was I lied about getting permission. I’m not sure they would’ve believed me anyway. They were furious about this and I was punished.

I went to school the next day and Ms. N was somewhat distant from me… she made a point to not talk to me during recess. Eventually she was replaced by another teacher.

I did not put the pieces about what happened to her until early adulthood. Thinking back, my parents probably called around— my friends, neighbors, the school in particular. They probably got wind about the situation and she had to explain she got permission from my parents, but there was no evidence of this. So it was her side of the story vs. my parents., and I’m sure the school sided with my parents. I was just so afraid of the repercussions that I didn’t speak up.

As I write this now, I think about what a shitty situation this was for Ms. N. She saw a poor child who didn’t have many opportunities in life and wanted to do a nice thing. And she went into this thinking she did everything correctly, including getting my parents’ permission. That kind action cost her job at the very least. Who knows if she was also accused of grooming me. It seemed innocent enough. I can’t imagine what sort of impact this would have on her ability to get another job, her mental health, etc. I feel a tremendous amount of remorse. And at the same time, I was a kid and I didn’t know any better.

I’m sorry, Ms. N. I’m really sorry.

I used to work at a small ice rink as a zamboni driver. I'm a broke college kid and a few of the other employees were broke college kids, so they often had pizza, hot dogs, ramen and things of that nature in the break room. The thing is, they "fired" me in december. By that I mean they never said I was fired but they never scheduled me for any more hours and completely ghosted me.

In doing that though, they never told me to give my keys back. The keys that opened the break room. So every week, I bring a tupperware, go through the back entrance, and steal as much food as I can. What can I say, I'm jobless and can't afford food. There's no cameras. Who's gonna stop me? I technically work there. I'm invincible and my food comes from their wallet

Edit: WOW a lot of you are very against a hungry 19 year old eating shit that comes out of their boss's paycheck. Reevaluate your life if you think a teenager eating is bad

Edit 2: YALL MY DAYS OF STEALING BE OVER BC I DONE GOT A REMOTE DATA ENTRY JOB

I am a 47f. I am currently on deferred felony probation for another 2.5 yrs, 4 total, for poss of meth, poss of fentanyl, poss of Adderall and attempt to promote prostitution, a pimp charge that I wasnt even guilty of, but thats beside the point. Anyways, in the beginning I had no problem getting off meth, although I was on it for nearly 30 yrs. My issue of course was the fentanyl. Lucky for me probation drug tests dont test for fent. Well, thanks to God I was finally able to get off the fent. And although its difficult staying sober, Ive been able to manage it with help from NA and classes Ive been having to take with probation. Well, fast forward to just this past Saturday, my step dad passed away, the only dad I knew till I was 26, I was going through an extremely hard brake-up with a guy that Im deeply in love with. I am currently self employed and clean houses, in the last 4 months Ive gone from making about $4500 a month to barely making $2000 a month, due to losing several clients for different reasons. Needless to say I had a breakdown and relapsed for 2 days. Im so ashamed with myself and wish like hell I could take it back . Unfortunately, at the time I was so depressed I didnt care about conciquinces. Well, now here it is Tuesday and I have a ua with probation at 8:30 in the morning, cant put it off again cause I had to already Friday morning when my damn car wouldnt start. The part I need help with is although I know its probably not the best idea Im gonna go ahead and use baking soda to try to pass the ua. Ive been told from alot of people it can work if you do it just rt. But with that I feel like telling my po my situation and the fact that I relapsed and may not pass the test could be in my best interest just in case. Hoping if I do fail maybe she'll be more lenient since I was honest. What does everyone else think? FYI in exactly 1.5 yrs Ive failed 2 already.

So here’s the deal. I have a good friend in another country who has terminal throat cancer. He’s already been through one surgery and two courses of chemotherapy and radiation. The doctor told him today that nothing has produced good results and that he has to go through the whole thing again. Since the cancer is in his throat, he’s already on a feeding tube, and after the next operation on his throat, he will never be able to eat normally again. He will be on a feeding tube forever … if he even survives.

I can’t visit him in person because his country is in the middle of a war. I have neither the resources nor the possibility of traveling to that country. Even if I did have the resources to go see him, its impossible to go there. I’ve already checked it out. So our only communication is electronic.

He’s telling me he’s very tired. He reiterates this every time we communicate. He tells me he has about 3% of his battery left and that he’s almost done. I know what that means.

I don’t know what to say.

If I were him, I would feel exactly the same and would not be interested in continuing the treatment either. I know he’s telling me that he’s not going to last much longer, whether it’s by his own choosing or by the cancer taking over, and him losing control of the situation altogether.

I have no fucking idea what to say to him. Everything I try seems stupid. I talk about the medical conditions sometimes, and other times I just joke about things that I know we both find funny. And I reiterate stories of times we spent together.

Help. What do I say? I can see that he’s indirectly asking me for permission to take things into his own control. Frankly, that’s exactly the same thing I would do if I was in his situation - but you can’t fucking say that to somebody! That’s horrific. What the fuck do I say?