Cool dating headlines

Well, hello! I'm just a silly little queer on a journey to self-discovery, learning how to live my best life, and looking for some company along the way. Here is what I'm looking like these days. I have officially hit that point in my life where time seems to be just completely slipping through my fingers, and so I am very focused on truly living each day to the fullest extent of my abilities, for the first time in a very long while (maybe ever). I'd love to meet some more folks who are in a similar place in their daily lives. For me, this means an emphasis on healing, hobbies, and healthy connections and approaching the choices, chances, and changes I make each day from a place of curiosity and wonder.
Healing is a priority of the highest order for me. I believe that as adults we all have wounds that, through healing, we can learn and grow from, in order to be the best versions of ourselves. We are all works in progress, and no matter how young or old, none of us are ever really "done" growing. I am learning how to hold space for my younger self, without judgement or shame coloring my perception of my past actions and choices. I'd love to hear about how you are practicing growth, what therapy modalities have worked best for you (IFS changed my life!), and/or your short and long term goals for this area of your life.
Hobbies have made a world of difference in how I balance my days. At the peak of my depression/mental illness, my entire life revolved around work and my children - I had no identity outside of ~Customer Service Cutie~ and ~Mom~. Last year I took the leap to join a local gay women's chorus and I am not kidding you, it was the best decision I made for myself in my adult life. This has opened up doors to other hobbies I didn't know I was interested in, like painting and kickball. Tell me about your hobbies, and what activities make you smile, and breathe life into your days!
Healthy connections are where you come in! Hooray - if you made it this far, you are a TROOPER and I appreciate you taking the time. I'm really not looking for anything in particular. I would love to go out on cute dates (I have always been the planner, so it would be a really cool change if someone wanted to take me out) or connect over zoom or whatever digital platform works best for you. It's been an embarrassingly long time since I've sent or received a good morning text, or felt the flutters in my stomach when I see someone's name pop up throughout the day. I guess I'm just looking for chemistry, in whatever form that takes.
Please feel free to shoot me a message or chat on here. If you need an opener idea, I'd love to know - if you had 1 hour to get on a plane to anywhere in the world (hurry up, pack your bag and GO!) where are you going and why?
Cheers xo
Em

Warning: This is extremely long
I am writing this because I need to make it known my love for this girl. And there needs to be something in the world that shows my love. All the hours of sleep I have lost for this girl, who I will call Eve, were for naught and I need there to be something tangible of what we had. This is my story of her.
I first met Eve at a volunteer event for an see organization we both went to, 4 days of 5 hours of volunteering. I thought she was beautiful and I wanted to ask her out. As we were leaving on the very last day I asked. I told her I enjoyed talking to her and thought she was cool, I asked if she would want to hang out sometime. I was elated. I thought she had given me her number romantically. I was so happy that day, I had never felt such joy. I was potentially going to be in a relationship with this amazing and beautiful woman. I texted her that night, and we talked some. The next day I asked her on a date, if she wanted to go to a local aquarium with me. She told me that she had a boyfriend. My soul was crushed, I felt myself die a bit. I physically felt my joy leave, everything was gray again. I had fallen in love with her over the simple act of her giving me her phone number. I have longed for female connection and affection for so long that even a slight show of something that could be considered as romance made me adore her. And that shows how fucked up I am. I made some more small talk, nothing much. I tried to play it off as “oh yea that’s cool”, perhaps I could salvage a friendship for now, and wait until she did not have a boyfriend. I asked her if she wanted to do paintball for my Birthday, she couldn’t because her sister got injured as a kid from it. For the next 3 months I mourned. I was sad, I had fallen in love with this beautiful girl, but could not even attempt to be with her. Then in November I saw her at another event, I was so scared. I was too afraid to make contact with her. I saw her and was terrified, of scorn, of disgust. I was embarrassed. She walked past me once and I said hi, as a friend, but no response, perhaps she did not hear me. I avoided her for the next few hours. Eventually during a raffle at the end we made eye contact. It was very brief, barely a second. I looked away so fast. She was so breathtaking. Now I knew that she knew I was there, and she knew I knew she was there. I went home without any more contact. The next months were the same, sadness. Mourning the relationship I (thought I) almost had. Every day I thought about her. Every single day. Not 3 hours could pass without her crossing my mind. At night I would look at her on Instagram. Look at her pictures, it was nothing creepy, I just admired her beauty and longed for her. I saw her boyfriend, he was ugly and fat. I do not mean to be rude or hate, but she could do better. I am ugly, but I take care of myself, I was jealous of him. One day she posted her Junior prom pics with him, she was so beautiful. One day when I went to admire her pictures, I noticed something. She had taken his name from her bio, and deleted all her posts. They had broken up. I was elated, perhaps I had a chance. I needed to see her again, establish connection. I went to an event where she was going, I saw her, I tried to find a chance to say hello but we were all so busy and split into different groups, I didn’t get a chance. As the event ended it was late. It was dark and in a not desirable area of town, Eve was leaving and my mom was going to accompany her to her car and called me over to accompany her. I walked out and was with them, Eve was so beautiful, her smile made me melt inside. We made some small talk between the three of us as we walked for a minute or two, and then she got in her car and left. I was angry at myself and my situation, I should have talked to her more, put myself out there. I was beating myself up for it the rest of my time there and the ride home. But when I got home I was overjoyed, while I drove Eve had texted me. She said it was nice to see me at an event again, with a smiley face. We talked for a bit, texting back and forth. I was so happy to be talking to her again, and SHE initiated it. Mind you this is on the 8th of February. For the next week or so we texted, not a ton. She was busy, however I have noticed she uses that as an excuse to not reply, more on that later. Come Valentine’s Day it was nearing Junior Prom at my school, I had dreams of bringing her to it. I was hoping to try and do something in person with her and some friends over the weekend, where I could ask in person. However, on Valentine’s Day she posted on her Instagram story a gift she had received from a secret admirer. I was scared I would lose my opportunity, now I had competition. This rushed me. I called her that evening, I told her I wanted to ask in person but saw her story and felt rushed, i asked if she wanted to go to our Junior prom with me. She said that she wasn’t sure, and wanted a few days to get back to me. A few days later she responded, she could not go. She said that she was talking to someone else pretty seriously and didn’t want to go for that reason. I accepted this with grace, I respect her decision. Exactly one month later I ran into her at an event. We talked a bit, we worked by each other this time. She mentioned when we talked with some others as a group that she was going on a spring break trip to California. After the event ended and we had gone home I texted her later that evening. I said it was nice seeing her, and I hoped she enjoyed her break. She responded, I was scared she wouldn’t. Throughout all of this I have held an underlying belief she is weirded out by me, or wants me to screw off, I had asked her out twice, maybe I am just a creep to her. But she did respond. We talked for the next few days, she still took a long time to respond, over 12 hours usually. I get you’re busy, but let’s be honest, everyone checks their phone in that time. On the morning of break when my family was driving off for ours I got a text from her. She sent me sunrise pics from her trip she was on, and said she would send some more. We texted back and forth a bit then, and she said I should send her pics of my trip. I was so happy, she had sent me pictures and asked I send some. While they weren’t pictures of HER, they were still beautiful sunrise pics, and SHE sent them to me first. Over the course of spring break we talked, there was a large time difference so most of it was sending picture, asking or telling something, and responding to previous texts. But one day we were both sat down and we texted back and forth for a straight hour. She was giving me her time and attention, I felt as if she enjoyed talking to me. When break ended however it changed. She took more and more time to respond, hours to days. She said she was busy, but I knew the truth, you can check your phone over the course of 2-3 days and respond. I felt hurt and confused. She has given me so much time and we had talked so much over break but now I was being ghosted. I couldn’t take it anymore. I wrote her a long text, telling her how I felt about her and what we had going on. How she was the most beautiful woman in the world and how I love talking to her, and also how I was getting mixed signals for her. She responded and told me that at first she was texting for friendliness but began to like me as we talked, she said she would text me before her friends and that must mean something subconsciously. She was flattered and admired my persistence in asking her out, now she was open to going out with me to test the waters. I was overjoyed. However I am moving overseas, about 3 months from when this happened, and I told her that. Very unfortunate that when I get my chance it is cut short. We talked more, and planned a date. She never did tell me why she didn’t respond. It was wonderful, we talked a lot. Of course it was awkward at times, but it got better as it went. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was breathtaking, she had makeup on, but she looks even prettier without it. We talked about all sorts of things, and it all made me like her more. Same passion we wanted to go to college for, both love animals, both believe the same stuff. When the date ended, we went our separate ways. That has since been the last time I have seen her. When I got home she texted me she had a good time, I was so incredibly happy to see that. I hadn’t weirded her out, she hadn’t found me too unattractive to date. One day I posted a pic of me after winning a sports championship along with some others of my team on my story. I have never posted a pic of myself because I am self conscious, this was the first. She viewed my stories, and the only one she gave a like was of me. That made me feel so special, she liked the picture of ME. I was happy, we were still texting, she still took a while to reply, usually a day, but I was happy because I was going on dates with her. During the midst of planning a second, she stopped replying for a few days. When I was touring a college I got the message. She had felt nothing romantic on our date, only platonic. She enjoyed it she said, but felt no feelings for me. She wanted to go out again to solidify these feelings, and give me another chance but because I was moving she didn’t want to potentially start a relationship we would end in 2 months. She said she didn’t want to lead me on. I was heartbroken. I love her. This was the final nail in the coffin, it was over. We would not work out. I replied to her, said thank you for the honesty and wished her luck with life. I have been left on read. I don’t expect anything else, but a reply, a thank you for understanding, anything would be nice. I don’t want it to end. Any connection I can have with her I wanted. I don’t understand, I thought she liked me? While she did say she thought she had feelings, I understand that she may have changed how she felt after going out, but why would she do what she did? Why would she tell me she had a good time it she didn’t think it would work? I feel as if that just got my hopes up. It put me under the impression she liked me too. And why would she like my picture if she did not LIKE me? I am confused m, and I am sad. My situationship with her is done, and any contact is as well. I miss her, I want to be with her. I don’t understand what to do now. For the past year she has been my purpose. I have improved myself for her, cried for her, tried at life for her. Now I have nothing, no purpose. How can I go on when I have no purpose. She was my driving factor for all I did. I am empty now. I write this because I need people to know. I cannot let all I felt for her go unknown. I need to express my love for her somehow, it must be known, it not to her then to you all. I can not let all we had, even if it was really nothing for her and to outside perspective, it was so much to me. And a message I leave for her, if by some miracle she stumbled upon this and recognizes these events. Eve, I love you. I know that it is not reciprocated. I am sorry for loving you, when we together had so little. You are the most beautiful girl in the world, your heart is pure and your mind is sharp. Although I can not be with you I hold no hard feelings. I am not angry, because your feelings are valid, even if they are not what I wish you felt. I hope whatever happens to you in life you excel. I hope you find someone you love that loves you like I do. I will never forget you. Thank you for the chance you gave me, and your honesty and clear communication. Goodbye.

My Ranking:

1. Tifa (for obvious reasons this is history here. I accidentally came across the kiss scene because I forgot to leave this sub leading up to rebirth but I didn’t believe it was real. I never expected them to confirm these two as canon. Only complaint I have is that I was hoping we could see the direct aftermath of the kiss. I mean, we got their reactions after getting off the gondola, but what about directly after they’d finished???)
   
2. Aerith (this is kinda second for biased reasons since I loved the Tifa date more. I think this date is great, it’s really cute, and I also think the Aerith date is better for a player who doesn’t care about shipping so that Aerith’s death hits a lot more. I mainly say this because outside of this date I don’t think Cloud and Aerith have a lot of moments in Rebirth. I liked it a lot more than I thought I would and if I was a Clerith shipper id be satisfied with this)
   
3. Barret (I love Cloud and Barret’s dynamic in the remakes. I can’t decide whether it’s an older brotheyounger brother or a fun uncle kinda dynamic but either way I love it.)
   
4. Yuffie (Yuffie might be my favourite side character second to best girl Elena (half-joking) so I was really looking forward to this one. Didn’t disappoint. Love the annoying little sister dynamic she has with Cloud I’m so happy she’s actually a relevant part of the story now.)
   
5. Nanaki (not many thoughts on this one. I lost interest in Nanaki after they took his cool voice away. Bring back homie’s aura 😔)
   
6. The Boys (it’s funny but it’s definitely the worst one because nobody’s having fun 😭)
   

Hey everyone, I know a lot of us in here have some anxiety about being ghosted so hopefully my story brings you all some satisfaction. I started dating this guy in October 2023 after getting out of a long term relationship. The first time we saw eachother we hit it off. After that, we saw eachother everyday for 2 weeks straight. Things were going good, he bought me roses & we went on dates, I enjoyed his company. fast forward we start getting into small misunderstandings. during our first little argument he ghosted me for two day, the argument also resulted because of his lack of communication. I ended up reaching out to him. After that we were okay for a while. Then we got into another small argument, he does the same thing… disappear. Now I also want to emphasize that these argument were so small, there’s no doubt in my mind that someone who is actually interested in you would try to work it out. but he disappears each and every time. he ended up breaking it off & I respected his wishes. 5 days after he broke it off he sends me a random video on Instagram, I ask him if he sent it by accident & he said no. I laughed at it and that was that. A couple days later he sends another video on Instagram, then he tells me he didn’t want to cut communication he was looking at it as “an extended period of cooling off”. Which was very weird to me because in the message he sent when he broke it off he stated “I think it’d be best if I just leave you alone because us talking is causing more harm than good” very dramatic, but I respected it nonetheless. So at this point I felt like he was trying to bullshit me & I expressed that to him respecfully. while I was happy inside that he reached out to me I was also insulted because I felt like he was playing with my feelings. I did really like him. after I expressed how I felt to him he said “alright” then that was it. didn’t hear from him for 2 months. during these two months I did think about him & I did wish things went differently. My birthday passed & he reached out to me a couple days after my birthday, I decided to give him another chance & we started dating again. we went on dates, he got me flowers. same shit he was doing before. It was going good and because we were already familiar with eachother there was already a sense of comfortability between us. I was actually happy to be in his presence again. I also did tell him that I don’t like the fact that he disappears whenever there’s a conflict. I tried to communicate openly. Things were going well, we talked on the phone, fell asleep on the phone most nights, & we were seeing eachother fairly enough. Then I started noticing little things. he was a bit intensive whenever I would tell him about conflicts going on in my life. He’d say things like “it’s not that serious” which I felt invalidated my feelings. he would take 3 hours to respond to my text message but would be posting constantly. I brushed this off at first because a lot of the times he is at work. Then it started happening a lot more frequently. One night I called him and he didn’t answer. he texted me and told me he just got out of the shower, I expected a call back. nothing, he also posts a story on IG but doesn’t respond to my text, at this point I was kinda getting the gist that he probably was losing interest. It sorta started feeling like I was playing hard to get rid of. I brought it up to him and then I said nevermind because I thought of how he’d disappear everytime there’s a conflict and I didn’t feel like going through that again. needless to say, he sends a paragraph & we go back & fourth for a bit. In one of his paragraphs he threw something in my face that I told him about when I was being vulnerable. I then end the argument and I take accountability for if I may have come off wrong and I also apologize. I then voice to him that I am a woman with feelings and the way he acts sometimes is a bit off putting. he never responds. for two weeks lol. (I literally should’ve saw it coming.) but here is the part where you all may get a bit of satisfaction. He hits me up on Instagram using the SAME tactic as before… after TWO WEEKS I left him on read. he’s still on read till the day. This happened a week ago. I feel like it’s so disrespectful when you put time into someone and you genuinely like them and they have no regard for you, your time, nor your effort. he has a lot of growing up to do & I will not be apart of that experience with him. I’m a genuine, loving person, & I won’t let people take advantage of me anymore. it’s hard & I do think about him at times. but he no longer lives rent free in my head. he is a very prideful person, so I know he’s mad at the fact that he didn’t get the chance to do the rejecting this time around.
Im sorry everyone this is long AS SHIT. I wanted to put in alot of detail. My bad if there’s typos

This question is out of curiosity. I’ve never had a relationship before as well. Regardless of what you think of age gap relationships, I do wonder if it’s realistic.
At the end of the day, I’ll take what I can get.
I’ve wasted enough of my life. I’d be willing to date someone 28 to 32, but on condition that kids are never on the table.
I'm not saying all women 25 and above want kids and marriage, but I do bet they want something serious and committed; yes I dare say something very adult.
I'm just not ready for that type of relationship yet where most of my days are work and doing errands. I very still much want to go out until 4 in the morning on a Saturday. And I'd be cool with it if it was almost every Saturday. I feel people my age are past that now.
I just want my first relationship to be fun as it can be even though I’m in adulthood now.
So yes, as a male that's never ever had a girlfriend ever, I much prefer women on the younger end. If that makes me a creepy pervert, so be it. But that's not the point of post.
I just want to know if it's feasible to be in age gap relationship like that despite it being unlikely. I do recognize that at the end of the day, women prefer men their age.

I (19F) met a cute guy (19M) on hinge while I was at school in X city. He lives in X city, but I don’t, so I have to go back home (2 hours from x city) for 3.5 months for the summer.
I wanted to test the waters and put myself out there, but this was in March, and I knew I’d have to go home in April. I knew I didn’t want to be in a long distance relationship, and I wasn’t expecting to be successful on hinge, so I didn’t mind talking to guys that I knew I couldn’t date. I figured it would be nice to talk to some new people, and then I could have a better understanding of the dating pool when I returned to school in August.
I ended up meeting Max, and him and I hit it off. We love the same music and realized we got tickets to the same concert in June. He’s sweet and funny, so I thought it would be cool to meet him before I went home for the summer. Since I didn’t want to do long distance, I figured we could at least be friends. We had a great time and even kissed, but this happened the day before I was supposed to go home for the summer.
He told me he was really into me and that he’d dream about me - that he couldn’t wait to go to the concert with me and see me in the fall. After less than a week, maybe 4 or 5 days, he stopped talking to me as regularly, and became pretty short. A few days later he stopped talking to me. I tried to spark conversation by texting a silly question about my cat, but he didn’t read it or respond, all while he was snapping me blank pics. I told him that I didn’t think talking over the summer would work for me because of his “communication style,” which was my way of trying to hint that he needs to put in some effort. Tl;dr of what he said is “ok, can we still be friends? I wanna hang more this fall. I haven’t been putting in effort, long distance isn’t for me.”
Then I told him that him ignoring me, even if it was a silly text, made me feel unwanted, in both romantic and friendship ways. I need my friends and love interests to show me that they care. He thanked me for sharing and didn’t apologize, then he proceeded to finally read that message (the silly question) and then never respond to it.
I messaged him one last time and he took 5 days to respond. It’s been 2.5 weeks since I came home and homie already forgot about me I guess.
I unadded him on Snapchat and unmatched him on hinge. He still has my number, but I doubt I’ll hear from him. I wonder if I’ll see him at the concert or not, and I wonder if he’ll message me. I’m disappointed because he seemed like an amazing boyfriend and/or friendship candidate, but I know that I deserve better than that and I’ve only known the guy for like a month and a half. I also wonder if he’ll reach out in the fall, it all feels so strange because he seemed so into me. #infatuationisreal
Here is a TLDR provided by chatgpt <3:
I (19F) met a guy named Max (19M) on Hinge while I was at school in X city, though I live two hours away and had to return home for the summer. Despite not wanting a long-distance relationship, I hit it off with Max, sharing similar interests and even planned to attend the same concert in June. After meeting and kissing just before I left, Max expressed his strong feelings for me. However, his communication became inconsistent shortly after, and he eventually stopped responding despite sending me Snapchats. I addressed my concerns about his lack of effort, but he didn't apologize or change his behavior. I decided to unadd him on Snapchat and unmatch him on Hinge. While I'm disappointed because he seemed promising, I recognize I deserve better and am unsure if I'll hear from him or see him at the concert.

Hi y’all so I met this guy, call him Dave, last year when I was dating my ex boyfriend, and he ended up joining our friend group because he was a great time and just a good person. Never saw him as anything other than another gay in the group chat.
My ex and I split up in august and I’m still good friends with him and his new bf. Since then, though, me and Dave started hanging out a lot along with other friends, and we get along very well, make each other laugh hysterically, go on movie nights, go walking. We always have an amazing time together and I could sit with him for hours. Honestly, I think I’ve fallen for him.
I’ve hinted at this before but he always says he doesn’t hookup with friends. He’s a very good looking guy and everyone in my friend group has made a move lmao. This makes me scared to make a move at all. I don’t even dance on him like I do my other friends when we go out. I don’t want to make anything weird for him.
Now I’m conflicted. I have fallen for him, but I can’t bring myself to say anything, even though we still hang out solo all the time. I avoid his gaze for too long, sit far apart from him, I’m cool but I feel anxious. I wrote a two page declaration of my love lmfao I was going to leave for him on his car but I figured that’s pussy as fuck.
BUT - What if he’s just an amazing friend, and I’ve misread everything..? Then everything we have is fucked.
What do I do?
TLDR: in love with best friend, w great chemistry. Help

I've never been much into the dating game. Socially awkward and depressed from school limited my ability to socialize and get to know people. Back in 2021, I met this girl who got a summer job where I was working at the time. I was responsible for training her so I thought of us as a trainetrainee dynamic. In fall, both of us quit work to go back to (different) schools.
I moved out of the city but would drive back every few weeks where we kept in contact and hung out not as coworkers but friends. At first it was a bit awkward but we slowly grew more and more comfortable with each other and got to know each other on a more personal level. I felt like I was catching feelings at this point but with little dating experience I was also very confused about how I felt.
I finished school in spring 2023 and moved back into the city permanently. Last summer we hung out a few times and I started getting mixed signals from her. With little dating experience, I didn't want to ruin our friendship so didn't act on any of it.
One night, I finally decided to address her signals and it turns out she liked me since working with me. At this point I shared my feelings for her too but she said she didn't want to start a relationship because she felt our mutual depression would ruin everything. She asked for some space to reset her mind, which I was cool with.
Fast forward 3 months (October 2023) I asked if she could come have a chat about our friend/relation/situationship. I hadn't really heard from her since. In hindsight I realized pushing her into a corner was a mistake and being "ghosted" is fully deserved.
Recently I got close friend stories from her on Instagram (before this, the last close friend story was in October 2023 and it only made sense she removed me after I was pressing for answers)... So I'm not sure what her dynamic with me is. I'm still holding onto the feelings I had for her last year knowing that she's likely moved on and I'm not sure how to take the recent situation. Any input would be appreciated.

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.