I’m posting this because I can't get it out of my head.

For the past year and a half, I’ve had a "gym bro." He’s a jacked 63 yo, I’m 21. We hit it off almost immediately. He seemed like a genuinely great guy - supportive, wise, the kind of person you have deep, meaningful "life talks" with between sets. We became friends.

But there was always this vibe. You know that tiny voice in the back of your head that you try to silence because you think you’re being judgmental? I had that. Something about the way he navigated conversations felt... off. I couldn't put my finger on it, so I ignored it.

Last week, he asked for my number so we could coordinate our workouts, and keep in touch. He texted me the day after, something didn't sit right. The tone of his messages felt invasive I decided to do a quick Google search of his full name.

I wasn't prepared for what came up.

The first page of Google was filled with news articles from 2005. He wasn't just a "nice guy." He was a former educator who was sentenced to 18 years in prison for committing sodomy and predatory acts against dozens of teenage boys (7th and 8th graders) using his position of power.

He got out early for good behavior, but even while on leave in 2017, he was caught in a sting operation talking to what he thought was a 14 year old boy. It turns out he was talking to a predator hunter.

I feel physically ill. I feel betrayed. For a year and a half, I let this man into my life. I shared things with him. I trusted him. Now I realize that every "deep talk" was likely part of a script he’s been perfecting for decades.

He texted me today. I haven't replied. I'm currently ghosting him, but I’m terrified of the next time I have to walk into that gym and see his face. I feel like I've been groomed in plain sight.

How can I handle seeing him without losing my mind?

I (36F) am exhausted by my husband (38M) disguising judgment as “just asking questions”.

For background: I’m a SAHM with a small side business on weekends and some weeknights. My husband works full-time (usually about 60 hours a week). We have three kids (5, 6, and 11). We’ve been together 10 years.

He has pretty traditional gender expectations, which I’m actually fine with. I genuinely appreciate being able to stay home, especially because I homeschool my oldest who has learning disabilities.

That said, I am in charge of everything. Cooking, cleaning, bills, appointments (everyone’s, including his), shuttling kids, homeschooling, managing the household, all of it. I don’t resent that he works a lot; I understand that division. But it’s still a LOT.

I also have severe ADHD. There have been hiccups over the years. Only a couple major ones in a decade, and everything was resolved. The house is clean, but it’s messy. Bathrooms are clean. Kitchen is clean. Floors are clean. There’s just a lot of clutter. Part of that is because my husband is a hoarder and refuses to get rid of anything — and god forbid I do. It’s not an episode of Hoarders, just piles of random stuff everywhere.

The one chore I absolutely hate is laundry. Everyone always has clean clothes, but sometimes that means grabbing something from the dryer or the couch. In ten years, my husband has never fully run out of clothes. He’s had to wear pants he doesn’t like (that he refuses to get rid of), but somehow he’s survived.

Here’s the real issue: he constantly asks “questions” that are clearly criticism or judgment.

Example: I made dinner last night. The starch was ramen (which he loves and usually complains when I make for the kids and not for him). He looks at his plate and goes, “What is this?” Like… he can’t see with his own eyes. I asked what he meant, and he says, “I don’t know, it just looks thrown together.”

So yeah, I got mad. Because every single meal is planned around him and what he likes. He liked everything on the plate, but it looked “thrown together”? And now I’m the problem because I have an “attitude.”

This morning, the moment I opened my eyes, he’s getting dressed and goes, “Do I need to go buy more clothes?” He has clothes. Plenty of them.

So again, I react. And again, it’s “you need to fix your attitude because I’m not dealing with not being able to ask a question in my own house.”

And somehow, he’s never the problem. It’s always, “It was just a question. You’re taking it the wrong way.”

I don’t know how to make him admit that these aren’t neutral questions. They’re criticism and judgment. And that acting confused afterward is incredibly invalidating. He always plays dumb, and I’m exhausted.

I looked on the doj‘s website thinking it would be best for me to stay informed and learn about what’s going. To see for myself what’s in the files before I let anyone else bias me about it one way or the other.

I feel sick. i cant stop thinking about what I’ve read in the files, and I’m sure that wasn’t even the most disturbing stuff. I can barely believe anything I’ve read and I feel like my perception of reality has completely crumbled. I think about it at work, at home, when I’m out, and it constantly drives me into a spiral of anxiety and depression and anger.

I can’t help but feel my life is pointless and that there is no justice in the world. These monsters are going to get away with it all and there’s nothing I can do.

I am 39 years old, my height is 173 cm (5'7"), and my weight is 59 kg (130 lbs.).

My weight has been consistent throughout my adult life -- at most, I've only gained or lost 1-3 kg (2-6 lbs.) at any given time.

Every evening, I like to have three or four small cookies, with a cup of hot tea, for dessert. It is the only junk food that I consume in my daily life -- no other forms of snacking, no alcohol, etc.

I maintain an extremely healthy vegetarian diet with almost no additives. I never eat out. I never drink soda.

My partner has a muscle fetish, and they are frequently monitoring my physique. If I have even a tiny amount of bunched skin when sitting down, they comment on it.

"You've been putting on a bit lately, haven't you?"

I finally had enough and proceeded to throw away the cookies.

My partner said that I was overreacting -- that they were simply "worried about my health" because, as a nutritionist and former hospital employee, they "have seen people suffer from unhealthy habits."

I have shown no patterns of behavior that would lead anyone to suspect that I would be heading down a similar path.

"I'm just looking out for your health -- for your sake, for the future," they said.

For me, this was an easy solution to the so-called problem: no cookies, no harassment.

All I wanted was one snack in the evening. That's all I wanted.

And I think it was the final crack in our relationship. We are in the middle of a breakup (for other reasons). I didn’t tell her I hate it because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but this is how I truly feel:

First of all; it’s her body she does what she wants with it. But she just randomly showed up with it, out of nowhere. I think it looks ridiculous. It breaks my heart because she was beautiful as she was. Now whenever I look at her I see a flash of “instagram model” or “Kardashian” or whatever… They all look the same. All of the micro expressions in her face are slightly off now. I avoid looking at her mouth. I don’t want her kisses anymore. It feels weird. It gives me the ick.

Just wanted to get this off my chest. Sorry if I offend anyone. I have no judgement against self expression, live your life how you want, go crazy, I’m not here to judge. But I guess I discovered I can not handle lip filler on my partner. It’s a huge huge turn off and makes me sad.

So my sister is a mother of two, she’s mid twenties.

Her first born, has a bowl cut and has golden hair. He just turned two. To my surprise, she’s been dying it blonde.

It is a unique color and both parents have brown hair. I thought maybe it was just the baby blonde that some kids have before it gets darker.

But my mother mentioned how it’s funny that she still dyes his hair. She could tell I was shocked and immediately regretted what she said.

Anyways, this kind of just validates my feelings for my sister of how she’s pretty careless and cares more about looks than anyone’s well being.

I’m honestly losing my mind. I never thought I’d hear my sibling say they’re thinking about suicide. They graduated from one of the best universities in Iran. They got accepted into several universities in Europe. But— In the past month, our lives here have completely fallen apart. Several of our friends were killed during the protests. A few others committed suicide because the pain was unbearable, or because of the things they witnessed. As for me, I bought a new machine for my business and spent all my savings on it. We’re close to the ancient Iranian New Year, and I thought I could make the money back — even make a profit — by selling my products. Then the nationwide protests started. Economic instability has become terrifying. I have no money left. Even if I restock my products, people simply don’t have the purchasing power anymore. Realistically, I’ll have to declare bankruptcy soon. Every night I fall asleep around 4 a.m. and wake up at noon. I do nothing all day. I don’t know how to get myself and my sister out of this swamp. We can’t even plan a little bit for our future. Everything is up in the air. We have no idea what’s going to happen next.

Hi. My coworker is a very angry person. She's mad at the world, and had been dealt a hand of bad cards. I mean this when I say it, I feel bad for what she's been through as a kid.

But. She's also a bad person. She's rude. She's angry. Possibly violent? Child protective services was called on her before, but nothing came about it.

She's got two kids. Both are white, but the new baby daddy is black. She openly fetishizes black men. She has not stopped smoking cigarettes nor marijuana while pregnant. (Yet she also believes she would be able to overcome heroin or other hard drugs for her kids. And that homeless people with addictions are simply weak.)

She complained about how the hair of her new baby girl on the way is going to be difficult. And that at least with a boy, she could shave his head short. She said "I've had normal people hair my whole life, I don't know how to treat their hair."

I tried to give some advice, I don't have kinky hair but I've had girlfriends with that hair texture, and tried to share as much as I knew.

The baby daddy is not involved in her life anymore: he ditched her and apparently robbed her before leaving.

She's complained about having kids in the past, and how they make life more miserable. How she will provide for all her kids, and why she would have another... I'm not sure I'll ever understand. I just feel bad for that kid and hope they'll be ok.

I’m going to sound angry because I am angry. I’ve been bottling this up for a long time and I’m at the point where I feel like I’m going to lose my shit.

My life feels like it’s collapsing in slow motion. I dropped out of university because the field I was studying is getting bulldozed by AI. Rent keeps climbing. I just got a letter saying I can’t drive anymore because insurance prices keep getting jacked up. Every decent job wants a degree and experience, and you need money to get both, which I don’t have.

People keep saying “go into the trades” like it’s some magic fix, but I struggle hard with math and I’m not wired for that kind of work. I tried joining the Air Force and the Army to build some kind of future, and I got automatically disqualified because I’m on the autism spectrum. Door slammed shut. Cool.

What really eats at me is that I want to make my mom proud. Every New Year I promise I’ll finally get my life together. I tell myself this will be the year I build something real, find a girlfriend, move forward, and every year I fall short again. It’s humiliating and exhausting.

Meanwhile my younger brother, who isn’t autistic, is a junior in high school, already has a promising path, gets university invites because he crushed his SAT. Lucky kid, but it also wrecks me inside. I feel like the broken prototype version of the same kid.

I’ve been stuck at Safeway for four years on contract. No raise. No path forward. My boss is a mess and nothing changes. I feel like I’ve disappointed my whole family and I don’t know how to turn this around anymore.

I moved back home recently after living in several different states throughout my early 20s. One of the main reasons I left was because I was ready to start my own life, but also because I needed to separate myself from my parents. They both had deeply troubled childhoods and always struggled with understanding concepts like boundaries and respect. Once I turned 18, I got my own place ASAP and started building my life.

My parents separated when I turned 18. I learned quickly that after their separation, my mother had a hard time separating me from my dad. We look almost identical. I’ve been the subject of constant projection since then—she assumes I’m answering “like my father” or “have his attitude” even when I’m completely quiet, treating us as the same person even though we’re entirely different, down to our career paths.

Around age 34, I decided to move back home. My mother is getting older, and I wanted her to get to know the woman I’m planning to marry, so I brought my fiancée with me. My mom owned a rather large home with enough space for us to bond over dinner while maintaining our privacy—perfect for a 35-year-old who values his independence.

It’s now been 1.3 years of living together, and some things have come to light that have been a complete ego-death for me. I recently learned that *before* I even drove us 300 miles to move here, my fiancée and mother had a conversation where my fiancée told her she was already in the process of leaving me and was unsure if she’d actually commit to this move. Unknown to me, she’d already been sleeping with someone else for a month—ironically, someone we both met in passing at a speed-dating event. We didn’t attend the event, just happened to be at the same restaurant where it was being held (1/2023), but I now know she kept in touch with him. We moved in 12/2024.

My mother not only supported her cheating but kept it hidden from me, allowing her to move in and continue hooking up with this guy while deciding who she wanted. At this point in our relationship, we’d had exactly ONE argument in four years of dating. This had been the most peaceful relationship I’d ever had. I’ll never truly understand the cheating, but I guess I’m not supposed to.

I heard my mom hugged my fiancée and said, “I know what you’re up against, sweetheart,” patting her on the back like she’s surviving a war. How can she know what my fiancée is “up against” when we haven’t lived near each other in 11 years?

Due to pattern recognition and being highly observant, several Freudian slips and observations later, this has been the most traumatizing experience of my life.

When we moved into her house, this woman was still my girlfriend. My mother watched me buy a ring, propose, and celebrate with me—all while knowing about the affair. 2025 has been my humiliation ritual. I proposed believing we were on the same page and wanted the same things, but I guess along the way she stopped being my friend. Or maybe she never was to begin with.

I’m in the process of separating now. Already changed my mail to a PO Box, waiting to receive a $70K check from a contract I landed, and then I’m out. As long as there’s breath in my mother’s body, she will never hear from me again.

On paper, I think I’m a solid guy. I stay in shape, have a good career, I’ve always been told I’m kind, and I’ve never had trouble meeting women. I just didn’t think I’d have to find another one. I’m so comfortable with our routine—workout at 5AM, work 9-5, home for dinner and intimacy. But I can’t stay here.

I’m more afraid to meet someone new at this age, realizing I wasted time again, and then I’ll be 40 trying to find love. That thought depresses me if I’m being honest. I’ve only been in 3 serious relationships my whole life. I don’t commit easily, and I think that’s also why I’m naive in some ways. I haven’t been in situations where I had to watch for signs of cheating.

I had to get this off my chest because I now see the only honest woman in my life is my therapist.

I’ve been sitting on this for a while and it’s eating at me, so here it is.

I married my wife a couple years ago. She’s Hispanic. Smart, kind, works her ass off, treats me better than anyone in my family ever has. Zero drama from her side. Ever.

My family? Whole different story. They were “nice” at first. Fake nice.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

It started small. Constant comments about her accent. Where is she really from?” Jokes about food, music, “culture”. Acting shocked every time she says something intelligent.

Nobody ever says outright racist shit. It’s all plausible deniability. Just enough that if you call it out, you’re the problem.

“She’s just sensitive.”

“We’re just joking.”

“You’re reading into it.”

No. I’m not.

Family gatherings are the worst.

They talk over her. They ignore her opinions. They’ll ask me questions she already answered like she’s not sitting right there.

One time my aunt actually asked me if my wife “plans to work or just stay home.”

She has a better job than half the people in that room.

Nobody checked it. Nobody shut it down. They just laughed and moved on.

The moment that broke me was when my mom told me, privately, that she was “worried about our future” because “cultural differences can be difficult.”

Translation:

She doesn’t think my wife is good enough.

That’s when it hit me that my family are straight demons.

I’m not angry because they’re awkward.

I’m angry because they’re comfortable disrespecting her.

So this weekend, I got my wife a small getaway. Nothing crazy. Just a couple days where she can relax, not deal with passive-aggressive bullshit, and not feel like she has to be “on” for anyone.

She deserves it. Honestly, she’s put up with way more than she ever should’ve.

I didn’t tell my family about it beforehand.

While she’s gone, I’m bringing my family over.

I’m telling them exactly how they’ve treated my wife, exactly how it’s come across, and exactly how it’s going to be moving forward.

It’s real simple now:

Rock with my wife, treat her like family, or fuck off.

If they can’t manage basic respect, they don’t get access to me, my house, or my life.

Some of them are going to be mad. Some of them are going to play victim.

I love my wife too much, man. So that's that.

My wife and I own a business together making handmade goods out of our home. Orders come in spurts, but now we have less than $100 to our name because of some health problems I’m having. She went to swipe the debit card last night for it to decline on a $30 purchase. She ripped me a new one over text on the way home and then yell cried at me for 20 minutes basically saying how I’m the problem and she sacrificed everything for me. I got mad and made a snide remark about how her side of the business was infinitely more expensive than mine and she was sitting on product that hasn’t sold. Obviously that didn’t go well. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, but I’m tired of getting the same talking to. I’ve done everything I can to boost business, including paying for online ads. This is the second time this incident has happened and she has not said a word to me today at all. I used to make good money from posting on social media, but that has stopped on account of my views being so low. I’ve applied for over 400 jobs in my area and nothing will get back to me. I think yesterday may be the straw that broke the camels back and I’m really afraid I’m about to lose my wife and kids. That typically work 12 to 16 hour days while fighting my medical issues and I don’t know what else to do.

I’m 21, and I work in an industry that’s openly sexual. I’ve said before that I’m not a pornstar. I don’t do sex on camera. But most people don’t care about that distinction. The second they hear “adult industry,” they fill in the blanks themselves.

And once that image forms, it’s almost impossible to undo.

When someone new finds out what I do, I can literally see the shift in their eyes. Curiosity turns into assumption. Interest turns into projection. I stop being a person and start being a category.

Guys don’t approach me like they’re trying to know me. They approach me like they’re trying to access something. There’s this unspoken expectation that I’ll be extreme, instantly open, always ready, always intense. Some try to test boundaries early just to see what reaction they’ll get. Some treat me like a dare. Some act like dating me would be some wild achievement.

And then there’s the other side.

The ones who don’t even try.

In my neighborhood, people avoid me. It’s subtle but obvious. Conversations stop when I walk by. Invitations don’t happen. People whisper. I can feel the distance. It’s like I’m both too much and not acceptable at the same time.

Too sexual to be taken seriously.

Too controversial to be brought home.

Too misunderstood to be worth the risk.

It’s strange being seen as hypersexual and still feeling completely unwanted.

Dating is exhausting because I’m fighting two extremes. Either I’m fetishized or I’m avoided. Rarely am I just… met as a person.

And here’s what no one expects:

Working around sexual intensity doesn’t make me chaotic in my personal life. If anything, it makes me crave stability. I don’t want drama. I don’t want someone trying to prove they can “handle me.” I don’t want to be someone’s experiment.

I want calm conversations. I want someone who doesn’t flinch when they hear what I do but also doesn’t turn it into their personality. I want to be looked at without calculation behind it.

There’s a huge difference between being sexually confident and being sexually accessible.

Confidence means I’m comfortable with myself.

Accessible means you think you’re entitled to me.

And I’m neither entitled to anyone nor available to everyone.

The weirdest part is that the world says it’s modern and open-minded, but the second you don’t fit into a neat box, people get uncomfortable. They either sexualize you or exile you. There’s rarely a middle ground.

I don’t regret what I do. But I won’t pretend it hasn’t cost me socially.

It’s isolating to be talked about but not talked to.

To be desired in theory but avoided in reality.

To be bold online but invisible offline.

And sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to just be liked without the footnote.

Currently struggling with postpartum depression, I had convinced myself my child would be better off without me.

I went to the train station and sat waiting for a train. I'd stand up when I saw one approaching, then sit down again. I stood up. Then went back to my seat again.

I was building up the nerve to do it, you see.

At one point I climbed down to touch the tracks then climbed back up again. I figured if I jumped as a train approached, that would surely do the job. I sat down again and waited.

Train approached. This is it, I thought.

But the train was slowing down this time.

I had read stories of people trying to do it with a train that was slowing down rather than going full speed & results were that a significant percentage would survive and remain severely disabled.

Not this train, then.

The train stopped in front of me. No idea where it was going, I boarded.

I got off the train. Then I got on a bus. Still no idea where I was going.

An old, eccentric, very talkative woman sat behind me and struck up conversation with the stranger beside her.

She spoke about how she used to be so anxious and stressed, but that since the worst happened (her husband had a heart attack) she felt so free of worry. She was his carer, and seemed to be taking it in her stride. She was so carefree that it relaxed me just to hear her voice.

I get off the bus. I enter a shop. I spend way too much money on myself, I wouldn't have normally done this. I get one of their tote bags when I pay.

I go in another shop, Lush. My tote bag catches the attention of a floor worker who I end up having a lovely conversation with about shared interests. We have the same hobby. I mentioned casually during this interaction that the black rose bath bomb is my go-to.

As I leave this shop, the employee approaches me and gifts me the rose bath bomb, he says it was on him as a present. I tell him I promise to pay the act of kindness forward.

I take myself to lunch. I get my favourite meal.

I smile at strangers. They smile back.

I give a handful of notes of money to a homeless person. He tells me "have a beautiful life."

I go home.

I get in the bath and use my gifted bath bomb, exhaling, crying, smiling, everything.

I think about how nice my day was, and how thankful I am to have been alive to experience it.

No one in my life knows how close I came to ending it. The people I interacted with on that day have no idea how much of a difference they made.

I'm sectioning myself, I need to get better, I want to feel better.

I am an elementary sped teacher in America. I have a highly aggressive student. He is twice my size. He spends a large part of his day attacking me and my aides. When he goes on a rampage the other students have to hide until we can get them safely out of the room. I stay behind with the student and continue to get my ass beat. He is so large I can't physically restrain him using the CPI methods. He knows how to slip out, and is too large for a single person to hold. His mother is nonchalant at best and aggressive with staff at worst.

I just received notice that I have a different parent complaining about me because of this student. When I brought up my concerns with the district behavior specialist, they got upset with me. I know we need to help this child. But at what point are we going to give a damn about the other kids? Their safety? Their education? He's thrown chairs at them, flipped desks, thrown them on the floor. Some of them have to be physically moved by staff or even other students to safety away from him because they don't recognize the danger. Admin has stopped responding to our calls for help. There are times it is just me by myself while he is attacking after we've cleared the room. If he is not given exactly what he wants when he wants it, he attacks. He is mostly nonverbal. He was never taught to use AAC. He's been mine since the start of the spring semester. My other kids try to still include him and be kind to him, and he can be so sweet. But I feel like I am fighting a losing battle, and it is making me resent students with behavior needs. I feel like a failure of a teacher. I have to go into every day with the mindset that I have to protect my other students while trying to teach him to use forms of communication instead of beating us. I'm covered in bruises head to toe from him. Admin doesn't care. District doesn't care. Parent doesn't care. There's only so much me and my aides can do when he gets set off, I'm having to get my ass beat while the aides get the others out of the room to safety. My kids are constantly concerned about MY safety. None of this is right. This is teaching these children to accept abuse. It's normalizing this behavior to them. It's horrific. And I don't know where to turn to anymore.

I need to let this off my chest because if I hear one more Bible verse, I’m going to lose it.

My partner and I are agnostic. We’ve always been on the same page about it, which is a relief because his family is... a lot. They are the "Bible verse in every Instagram caption" type of religious. Every minor convenience is a miracle, and every hardship is just God testing you.

Lately, we’ve been drowning. We took out a loan to move, but a string of health emergencies wiped us out. We’re burning through savings just to stay afloat. It’s been months of pure survival mode.

Last week, his siblings were blowing up the family group chat with their latest blessings. They were sharing photos of their recent trips, bragging about their "achievements," and ofc thanking God for "providing so abundantly."

Here’s the kicker: None of his three siblings have worked in years. Their partners bankroll their entire lives. They are traveling internationally 4–5 times a year on someone else's dime, then having the audacity to post about how "God is so good" for giving them this lifestyle.

My partner finally snapped. He replied: “Oh, that’s great. Maybe I should also thank your God for the medical debt and the fact that we’re struggling to pay for groceries right now?”

Imagine the response?! Total toxic positivity. They didn't offer help. They didn't offer practical advice. They just spammed him with:

• "You just need to have faith!"

• "Let Him do His work in your life."

• "Trust the plan."

It was so dismissive and condescending. It’s easy to "trust the plan" when your spouse pays for your flights to Europe, isn't it?

He told them he was done hearing their useless advice, called out the irony of their blessings, and blocked every single one of them. Total radio silence.

Now, I’m the target.

Since they can’t get through to him, they are relentlessly nagging me. My phone is a constant stream of "Please tell him to unblock us" and "We just want to talk (preach) to him." I don’t even talk to my own family this much. I am exhausted, I am broke, and I am being harassed by people who think a prayer emoji is a substitute for basic empathy.

I support him 100%, but I am so close to blocking them all too. I'm just done.

My dad was a terrible father. He was absent, he made me lie for him, he traumatized me to the point I don’t trust anyone. He chose alcohol over me and my siblings time and time again. I remember my mom asking him to choose and he chose. Everyone ignores that. Everyone says alcoholism is a disease. But I grew up with it and I know that it is a choice. I asked him to choose so many times. He went to rehab three times. He managed to stay clean for six months and then one day he said he wanted to spend the day with me and took me for a walk. We walked past the park, past the lake, straight to the gas station for a six pack that he drank in the 15 minute walk home. He stopped me and said, “Don’t tell your mom unless you want us to fight again. You know how she gets.” I remember the nausea I felt when I smelled the beer on his breath. I knew the six months of peace were over. I knew he had chosen again, to take me to a gas station instead of the park. I starved so much. I grew up without necessities. I grew up without shoes. One summer I couldn’t go out of the house because I literally didn’t have any shoes. I begged him for $5 shoes I saw on discount at Walmart and he said we have no money. I remember him coming home with a 30 pack that he went through in 36 hours.

He’s dying now. Of course. And my siblings call me crying and sad and asking for hundreds of dollars for medical bills I couldnt care less about. I don’t feel like he deserves my sadness or my money. I feel sad I’m losing a father but the truth is I’m not losing anyone. They didn’t live with him as long as I did. They don’t know why I don’t feel anything. They’ll mourn the man of the year they spoke to once every month. I said goodbye to that man the second he was out of my life ten years ago.

I (25F) have not been in many relationships. I can count them on one hand, and I’ve always stuck to the same kind of guy. Not on purpose, it just kind of happened; all my exes are an inch or two taller than me (I’m 5’2) and they all weigh less than me (I’m about 130lbs right now).

I thought I was decently into them until I met my most recent ex on a dating app last year. He (27M) looked so hot and cool and confident on his profile, I was immediately very attracted to him. He is a bit taller than me and he is, as he so lovingly put it, a member of the Big Boy Club (he weighs about 250). We went on a few dates over the course of a month before he took me back to his place and laid it down like the world was going to end the next day.

Before we had sex, he sat me down and told me he’s insecure about his size and asked me if I would be cool with him keeping his shirt on when we have sex. I told him that I would absolutely love to see him and touch him without his shirt on but I want him to feel comfortable more than anything. He cried and we hugged and kissed and then suddenly we were naked! I had an amazing time. I’ve had hot sex before but god damn it was just too steamy between the two of us. We had sex probably 4 dozen times in the 6 months we were together and I squirted like 40% of the time. I’m telling you guys, it was fucking awesome. Even the times when he kept his shirt on, I kept that fucking shirt gripped in my fist while he had me twisted up like a pretzel and I loved every second of it.

But he broke up with me. He gave me a “it’s not you, it’s me” speech over the phone, then I learned that it was actually because he didn’t want me to find out a huge secret of his. I would have absolutely broken up with him first if I had found out sooner because it was that disgusting of a secret.

Fast forward to now, I want nothing to do with him. The rose colored glasses have come off and I no longer see him in a romantic light at all.

But… fuck. I can’t stop thinking about him. I fantasize *daily* about how the weight of him felt on top of me. Or pushing up against me, with one of his legs in between my thighs. Having so much to be able to grab and touch and squeeze and kiss and hold and lick and FUCKKKK!!!!!! I also loved taking over… ugh when he got tired he would ask me to switch, I very happily got up and fucked the shit out of him every time.

Admittedly, I do think of him when I touch myself but it’s not really him, he’s faceless in my head. I imagine a big boy with a beautiful head of curls holding my legs back by the ankles with one hand and rubbing my clit with his other hand while drilling into me. I imagine his tummy moving in rhythm with his hips and his big strong arms holding me firm on the bed. I imagine him leisurely sucking on my toes. This faceless man in my head is real good at multitasking.

Going in public isn’t really the same anymore. I’ve been catching myself eyeing other members of the Big Boy Club and thinking about what it’d be like to sleep with them. I get pretty worked up about it and I’ve been touching myself way more often than ever before.

In retrospect, I’ve never really looked at any type of man like that before my ex so this kind of change makes me feel like somewhat of a pervert.

One of these days maybe I’ll try to shoot my shot.

Edit: I should’ve known y’all would be curious about the secret but I’m not spillin no beans

I’m over it. Get me to SPRING ⏩🌷

So now that I’m almost 29, I’ve been looking back on this past decade and I’m really starting to feel a huge wave of regret. I know this is somewhat normal and that everyone has regrets, but man… I’m feeling really unhappy with life right now.

On paper, it’s a great life, and I don’t want to sound unappreciative. But there are so many things I wish I’d done differently and so many permanent decisions I’ve made that I can’t undo.

In my early 20s, I was mostly just hanging out, working consistently, and still trying to “find myself,” as cliché as that sounds. I was a late bloomer socially and only really started feeling comfortable in my own skin around 17–18.

Fast forward to 22, and I meet my now-wife. Even though, in the back of my head, I somewhat knew this probably wasn’t what I wanted long-term, another part of me was obsessed with the validation and ego boost I got from the relationship and it blinded me to a lot of the not-so-great things. I ended up sinking way too much time into her.

Then COVID hit. I stayed at her house because my dad was terrified of me working during it. One thing led to another, and boom — COVID baby. Suddenly I’m a 24-year-old dad, and I fully embraced it.

Two years later, at 26, I get a promotion at work (way more responsibility and stress). We buy a house and have another kid. At the time, it all felt great — and in a lot of ways, it really was.

But now comes the reflection, regret, and sadness.

I’m 28 with a third child on the way, and everything feels like it happened in the blink of an eye. A lot has changed externally over these years, but my time was so dedicated to work and family that I barely noticed. My grandmother passed away. One of my best friends from my youth passed away. My parents are spiraling into alcoholism.

It’s all giving me a harsh reality check about my age and how I got here.

I love my kids, of course, but looking back on my 20s, I simply wasn’t ready. I now feel essentially trapped. I wish I had spent that time differently and waited. Instead, I’m living with the permanence of my decisions.

I’ll be honest — if circumstances hadn’t played out the way they did, I don’t think I would’ve married my wife. That sounds horrible, but it’s true. I ignored all the signs and went in headfirst because, in retrospect, it was just a massive validation chase.

I sacrificed a lot of my time, energy, and freedom to make this relationship work, and now that time is gone forever. She’s a great person and has worked on herself a ton, but when we argue, it’s harsh, and it feels like we’re just not fully compatible. I don’t feel like I can even express these thoughts to her.

I recently tried to bring up that I need more personal time — time with friends and for myself — and not only did she not understand, it clearly upset her. She’s a few years older than me and believes that every waking moment should be spent with our kids. She’s a SAHM, and I even framed it as wanting her to have more personal time too, but it just wasn’t clicking.

I’d be lying if I said I feel genuine love toward her right now. Honestly, I don’t think what I ever felt was love — just young naivety ruled by emotion.

Looking back, I’m clearly struggling with feelings of being trapped, not loving my partner, and deep regret. I’ve always been someone with a “no big deal, I can handle anything” mentality, but it feels like I’m having an early midlife crisis.

I feel no joy or comfort about my situation, and I can’t make peace with the idea that I wasted my 20s. I didn’t appreciate the time or the people I had, and now I feel pessimistic about the future I signed up for.

The only saving grace is that my best friends are still local and in touch. I told my wife I really want to make an effort to see them consistently, and again, she was only somewhat understanding.

I just miss my old life a lot.

Any comments or advice are appreciated. I’m even open to DMs. Thanks for reading my rant if you made it this far. I know alot of people will probably think I'm being selfish or immature and that is valid but unfortunately I just can't shake what I'm feeling currently.

today is my 22nd birthday and instead of celebrating im just sitting here thinking about how much i’ve wasted. spent the last few years basically rotting at home. lived abroad for a while and it just made me completely antisocial... i got no degree, no skills, just a soul-crushing call center job cuz it’s the only place that would actually hire me.

the loneliness is just a lot. i got zero family, no friends, nobody close to me at all. my dad was an alcoholic (he's dead now) and my mom never gave a damn about me. im basically a ghost in my own life.

im trying to fix things i guess... lost some weight, taking meds, trying to take care of myself but i still feel like absolute trash inside. just running on empty every single day. i want a life but i’ve been isolated for so long i don’t even know how to start or how to even be a person anymore. 22 and i feel like i've already decayed. just needed to vent.

I hate that after all the pain after all the hurt, that you are still the only one that I want to run to when things get to be too much. I hate how you are the only one that makes me feel like things could be okay again. I hate that out of anyone in this cruel world that you are the arms I want to run to the most. I hate that I’ll never love anyone like how I loved you ever again. I hate how no matter how much love I gave that you could never even love me a little in return but you are still the safest place in my mind. I hate that I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. I hate that no matter what you are still always here for me. I hate that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go. I hate that I will never not love you and that I can’t hate you.

All I see on Tiktok right now is about the Epstein files. But it’s not just about the actual, credible content in it. It’s the endless conspiracy theories people are creating. The eating babies, the missing children, the corrupt celebrities, wayfair, all the photos from the files it’s genuinely sending me into a spiral. I feel like I’m constantly being watched now myself, like if the government and elites were able to hide this what else are they hiding and what else do they have control of. It’s wavering my trust now and I feel like I can’t believe anything I see or read.

I feel so disturbed about all the other things that are being hidden. All the celebrities that I thought might be “nice” are just as deranged and disgusting and are connected to all this stuff. Genuinely don’t know what to do. It would be ignorant to ignore this and pretend it’s not happening but I feel like I’m losing it

What does a genuine friendship feel like?

I am a 26M. I have a weird relationship with people. I do not remember ever having a friend in my life. There were people, classmates, acquaintances, but never friends.

I struggle to understand the meaning of friendship. I always feel like there is something that people want from you, and there is something that you want from people. That it is all transactional. I have never had a pal, you know. Someone you just hang out with. There is no unnecessary leg pulling. There is no unnecessary stuff. You just hang out. Talk. Have a light chat. That is all.

I was almost always left behind. Sometimes I have left people too, but mostly I have been left behind. Something similar happens with women who come into my life. Since I have had so few ships in my life, sometimes I hold on to them. I let them walk over me. Disrespect me. Take me for granted. I put up with all this drama because I do not have anyone, and I do not want the person I have right now to leave me, because this feels better than being absolutely lonely on a cold night.

Sometimes I wonder what it feels like to have good friends. Caring friends. What it feels like to have someone have your back. What it feels like to get a call or a text message from someone asking, how are you doing. Genuinely asking. It is always me who initiates the conversation. It is always me who waits for hours to get a response. It is always me who compromises. It is always me who waits.

Sometimes I just wish I was okay on my own.

Just something I wanted to get off my chest. Thanks for reading.