How to get dog oder out of leather

This is the first time I have written something of this length, and is more of an exercise in self-therapy than anything else. Disclaimer: This story contains conversations about child abuse. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it.
Nathan’s number appeared on my phone screen. I debated whether or not to answer it. We hadn’t been on speaking terms for a while, and while we did keep in touch sporadically, it was usually because of important family issues. I didn’t know of anything happening with mom or dad, nor with Talia or Rio, so I let it go to voicemail. I could always call him back later. I placed the phone back in my pocket, and returned to cleaning my camera. The phone buzzed again. A text message came through. I read the preview line from the home screen. “The city declared eminent domain on the house” I unlocked my phone, read the full text message, and dialed my brother.
I wasn't able to get any closer to the house than a few blocks. Most of the area was blocked off with chain link fencing and construction equipment in preparation for the demolition that was supposed to take place within the coming days. The barriers didn’t prevent people from walking in to the neighborhood, but it hindered scrappers from coming in and stripping the houses of copper wiring and plumbing.
I grabbed my camera bag out of the trunk of my car along with my tripod. I shouldered it and hooked the tripod to my bag. I pulled my water bottle out of the center console and shut the door. I stood next to my car surveying the neighborhood. 12 city blocks of old single family homes comprised the neighborhood where I grew up. Some of the houses had been empty for months, others for years. There was an eerie silence that permeated the still air. I could not hear the familiar sounds of people, pets, or cars. I locked the car and put my keys in my pocket. I patted my jacket down to ensure I had what I needed. After a quick check, I started my walk.
The sidewalk of the old neighborhood streets still bore the familiar cracks and grind marks from years of buckling and remedy. Leaves dropped by the trees still lay scattered all along the pathways and sidewalk. Korina’s house was the first house I encountered as I made my way through a gap in the fence. The yard was overgrown with tall grass and thistle. I could see the faded blue paint of the old house contrasting the green and browns of the lawn. The chain link fence that marked off the corner property was nearly invisible through the thick brush. As I continued walking west towards 110th, I started to feel something was off. The streets seemed wider than I remembered. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but eventually I realized what was different. There were no cars.
The streets here typically had cars lined bumper to bumper in any spot available, and were visible from block to block. The absence of all these vehicles made me realize just how deserted the neighborhood really was. House after house, yard after yard, the telltale signs of desertion reinforced what I could see from the moment I passed the construction fence: This was no longer my neighborhood. There were no signs of life, and no one I could expect to find still here. Abandonment was the new normal here. I continued on, glancing at houses and recalling memories of summer bike rides, and daily walks with dogs I used to have. I remembered walks home from school, and chasing after ice cream trucks when they passed our houses. I smiled a bit as I remembered more and more of my years spent here. I don’t quite know just why I was smiling. There were plenty of bad memories here too. Fights, yelling, being beat up, being robbed. I could remember failed friendships, lost loves, and bitter feelings of failures too.
Still, I felt a certain amount of nostalgia despite the weight of these negative feelings. I almost wanted to experience everything again, although I wasn't sure why I was feeling this way. Concrete, asphalt, billboards and liquor stores were the normal vistas of everyday life. Occasionally, after a good rainstorm, the grey haze of smog would lift, and the mountains would be visible to the north. At least, they would be visible until mid-morning when the exhaust from a million cars covered them behind a veil of pollution.
It wasn’t until the first time I travelled out of the city that I realized there was more to see. Traveling up the coast north along the Pacific Coast Highway introduced me to scenes of deep blue ocean water spanning the width of my vision. Driving up Highway 3 introduced me to the permeating scent of Pine and Fir trees. The two-lane stretch of highway from Portland to Tillamook introduced me to lush green forests that I had only ever read about. When I came home to the same old dirty, dusty concrete and boiling summer asphalt, I had made up my mind. I would do everything it took to leave this place. I would not spend another day longer than was necessary living in cramped quarters and fighting for parking space.
I arrived to the house, and paused at the gate. The house sat in contrast of what the rest of the neighborhood looked like. Instead of overgrown grass and tall weeds all over the place, the landscaping showed signs of relatively recent work. The guava tree in the front lawn still had some fruit ready to be picked, and the avocado tree on the other side of the pathway was still weighed down by its own fruit. Flowers still bloomed in the raised bed in front of the house. My brother had clearly tried to keep up on things until the last possible moment. The house, too, looked better than what I expected after walking up 4 blocks and seeing nothing but dilapidated houses and unkempt yards. I opened the gate and walked up to the small porch. The metal gate that enclosed it was gone having been removed by my brother when he took over the property. It looked nice to see it open instead of the cage it once felt like.
I turned the knob on the door, but it didn't give. Ever a creature of habit, my brother had locked the door when he left. Of course, he did. I sighed and prepared to find another way in when I remembered my parents hiding a spare key. I wasn’t sure if it would still be there, but after running my hands along the back side of the gutter downspout, I was rewarded for my efforts. I unlocked the front door and stepped into the front living room, the sounds of my footsteps and the closing door echoing in the empty space. The room felt both larger and smaller than I remembered it. I suppose it was lack of furniture that made it feel larger, but it still felt smaller than I remember. The result of growing taller throughout the years I suppose. I slowly walked along the slate tile floor towards the central hallway that connected the front of the house to the back bedrooms. I wasn't entirely sure that just because the front door was locked, that there wasn't some squatter looking for a little temporary shelter within the back rooms. I carefully and silently crept step by step towards what used to be the bedroom shared by my sister and me. I stuck my head in and gave the room a cursory glance. It was empty, thankfully. I moved back into the hallway and peered into the bedroom across the hall. This is where both of my brothers had shared a room. It too, was empty save for a few boxes holding hardware and doorknobs from the closet doors of the bedroom. I walked back towards the back of the house where my parent's bedroom was. The walls in the hallway bore the dusty signs where picture once hung. The bedroom door was open. I stepped inside, and looked around. The old avocado paint that my mom had picked out years ago still adorned the walls. Walking further towards the addition that was the small room my grandma and grandpa lived in showed that there was no one here. I breathed a sigh of relief as I set my bag down and set up my tripod. I reached into my bag a pulled out an envelope of old photos. These were old snapshots that we had all taken at some point in time in the house. There were pictures of all of us sitting at the dining room table playing a game of Monopoly. There was a picture of my brother and sister sitting on a couch in the front living room. There was a picture of me hanging on the bars of the front porch. I looked through them all and held them in place in front of me as if I were holding a window to the past.
Each picture made the lump in my throat grow as I started to struggle to control my emotions. There was history here, and soon it would all be gone. This is the place where my parents had raised four kids. They had taken care of my grandparents in their twilight years here. My Aunt and my grandmother had both died in this house. Birthdays, graduation parties, and anniversaries had been celebrated here. The echoes of life had reverberated within the walls of this place. Now, the house sat silent. It would never again know happy screams of kids having a water-balloon war out in the front yard, nor would it hear the cries of anguish as the matriarch of the family passed away surrounded by her family. What once was a home full of life was now just an empty house made of drywall and paint. I sat there for a moment contemplating just how much family history was actually made here. As I thought hard about my siblings and my parents, I felt pained at the thought of our strained relationships. We had all scattered once we had the opportunity to be free of each other. My oldest brother had married and moved away as soon as possible. My sister now lived in northern California. My parents too had moved away. I was now living in Utah. Only my older brother had remained behind. The lump grew larger in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. I held back sobs of anger and pain. Why was I hurting? Hadn’t I dealt with these issues already? I walked back to my old bedroom and sat down under the window. I pulled my head down into my knees and cried. I could hear yelling and screaming in my head. Shouting matches between siblings and parents, brothers and sister, rattled inside my brain, making the pain grow. I sat there and cried. I hadn’t cried like this in a long time. Eventually I ran out of tears and tired gasps of sorrow and regret washed over me as a blanket of drowsiness enveloped me. I leaned my head back and fell asleep.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps. It took me a moment to realize what I was hearing and hurriedly stood up. Had someone followed me? I knew the police were patrolling the area sporadically. Had they seen me enter the house? I knew there would be a possibility of getting a trespassing citation, but I figured I could either talk my way out of it seeing as to how I was a former resident, or I could probably fight the citation in court if the judge knew why I was there in the first place. Ultimately, passing through the gate had been a calculated risk that I was willing to take for the sake of my art. I got up from my corner of the room and moved towards the door. If there was someone in the house, I needed to know. I didn’t want my gear to stolen, and if there was a cop in the house, I wanted to ensure I didn’t get shot.
I was greeted by the sight of a startled chubby boy standing on the other side of the door. His round cherubic face was crowned by a head of short curly hair. His hazel green eyes stared widely back at me. He clearly didn’t expect someone to be here in the house. His body recoiled in fear as he cowered back towards the hallway. “Wait, what are you doing here?” I asked as non-threateningly as I could. The boy muttered something that I couldn’t quite make out. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you” I replied. “Are you here to rob us?” he timidly responded. “Rob you? What are you talking about?” I asked as confusion set in. “What are you doing here?” It was his turn to be confused. “Uh…I….live here?” he replied. “What do you mean you live here? No one lives-“I stopped midsentence. I hadn’t noticed in my initial shock but the room wasn’t the same. A familiar blue couch caught the corner of my eye. In front of that was an old console TV with a partially broken antenna hanging on the wall behind it. I walked further in to the living room to notice wood paneling on the walls. A large mirror hung on the wall to my left. Familiar yellow lamps sat on round drop-leaf tables on either side of the couch. A large hutch sat in one corner, a collection of letters and bills, mail advertisements, and a phone book covered scattered over it. “What just happened?” I asked out loud to no one in particular. I was thoroughly mystified by what my eyes were seeing. I had walked into the house from the front door and had stepped into an empty white room with slate floor tiles, but somehow now found myself in a furnished room with brown carpet that was all so familiar to me, yet was nothing but a distant faded memory. I turned to look at the boy still startled by the intrusion of a strange man looking wildly around the room in total shock.
“You can take what you want, just please let me go. I don’t want problems.” He stated his voice still shrill with anxiety. I blinked a few times as I tried to process just what the heck was going on. I gathered my thoughts as best I could and tried to reassure him. “Kid, I’m not here to rob anyone. I was just-“I shook my head “Where the hell am I? Am I having a dream?” I asked myself. “I must be dreaming. I’m just tired and still sleeping. This is all a dream. Yeah, that’s it.” I needed to sit down. Being back in the old house must have overtaxed my senses, I told myself. I’d having a dream about an old memory. I walked over to the chair next to the couch and sat down. I sunk into it and rested my head back towards the wall.
The boy kept his distance, but sensed I wasn’t there to hurt him. He looked me over with anxious curiosity. He stood at the far end of the couch, examining me while he played out scenarios in his head in preparation for a quick exit. “Why are you in my house?” he asked me. “Dude, this is all just a dream I’m having. I’m not really here.” He reached over to the couch and picked up a pillow. He reared his arm and threw it at me. It landed in my lap. “I don’t know, man. You sure seem to be here.” He said to me. I opened my eyes, startled. I looked down at the pillow he tossed and examined it. I ran my hand over the fabric and felt its texture. I remember this pillow. This was the pillow I would roll under my head as I lay on the couch and watched TV as a kid. A sudden realization hit me as I looked around the room with fresh eyes. No longer was I blinded by the fog of confusion. I knew exactly where I was.
I was home.
I looked at the boy still standing at the edge of the couch. I looked him over and realized who he actually was. I stared in disbelief as I smiled and tried to put him at ease. “It’s ok Johnny. I’m not here to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. Please, sit down” I told him. I motioned to his end of the couch. “Who are you, and why are you here?” he asked me.
“This will be hard to believe, but I’m you” I said with an incredulous tone, “I’m not sure how I ended up here, but I’m here.” He looked at me as I had grown a second head. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could you be me? Did we invent time travel? Oh! Are we secret government agents with the CIA?”
I chuckled. “Wait, wait, wait. Let’s start at the beginning. I’m you at 38 years old. You’re…what, 11… 12 years old? It makes sense. I fell asleep under the window in my- our old bedroom. I didn’t come here on purpose or in a machine. And no, I’m not a government agent.” His face contorted to display understanding, disappointment and finally suspicion. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in towards me. “How do I know you’re really me?” he asked. I thought about it for a moment. How could I prove to him that I was who I said I was? A few seconds of silence settled between us. I stroked my chin, thinking of a solution.
“I have a better idea. Ask me questions that only you know the answers to.” “Okay” he responded. He glanced around the room trying to come up with something. His eyes fixated on the Nintendo sitting under the TV cabinet. “What game do me and Nathan have a map of?” I looked over at the NES. I hadn’t thought about this for years, but I knew instantly what he was asking. “YOU don’t have anything. Nathan is the one that made the map for Section Z” His jaw dropped. He tried to trick me, but his plan failed. He knew well and good that Nathan never let him play. It was always ‘I’ll let you play when I die’ or, ‘you can play when I’m done’. The problem was that he never followed through. Usually by the time Nathan was done, the NES was overheated, and the game would no longer load until it cooled down. By that point, it was time for bed.
“How do you know that?” he asked in astonishment. “I know these things because I’m you. Just like I know that you wear t-shirts to the pool because you’re embarrassed by what others will think of your body. I know that you used to think that people that die off in movies were prisoners that were set to be executed from death row, so they used them for making movies. I know all about you because I’m you”
Johnny sat on the end of the couch in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. He had never told anyone any of this. He didn’t have any close friends to talk to about such things, and those friends he did have were more acquaintances than friends. There was only one way he could possibly know these things. He was talking to his future self.
I could see Johnny’s mind completely explode. There lay endless possibility and the answers to a million questions he could ask about his own future. He started to ask a question, only to stop, close his mouth, and try asking another. I knew if he kept this up he would have a stroke or something. “Dude, calm yourself. Let’s talk this out rationally, otherwise you’ll end up stroking out or something.” I told him. He took a deep breath and I could hear him muttering quietly. I knew he was trying to form a coherent sentence before he actually spoke it. I did it all the time. “Ok, first of all, are we rich?” he asked with tempered expectation. I chuckled and grinned back at him. “No, not at all. If I was rich, would I be dressed like this?” I replied as I motioned to my beat up brown Vans and worn out jeans and T-shirt. “We-, I – make enough to get by. I’m not poor, but I earn enough to pay the bills.” His face grew a smirk as he commented “Yeah, I figured. What do I do for work? I mean, what do you do for work?” I thought about it for a second. I wondered how much information I should divulge to a younger me. I still didn’t think this whole situation was really happening, but if it was, I probably should proceed with caution. “Well, it’s complicated. I do a little bit of everything. You know how you’re constantly taking things apart? Let’s just say that it’s good to put them back together in order to keep them working. Take good notes on paper if you need to, and make sure you have a clean work area so you can keep track of all the parts.” He gave me a sheepish look. He knew exactly what I was talking about. I had spent countless hours sneaking dad’s tools to my room so I could figure out how something was built and try to figure out how it worked. I had gotten myself into some pretty bad trouble with dad over a drill, his timing light, and other stuff I had taken from his room. His belt had become quite familiar with my butt cheeks.
I gave him a knowing smile. “What else do you want to know?” He thought about it for a second. “Do we have a girlfriend?” I laughed, probably a little more than I should have because his face contorted into a sour frown. “You don’t need to be a jerk about it” he scowled. I continued to chuckle. “Yeah we have a girlfriend. We have more than a girlfriend” I could tell he was irritated with my vague indirect answers. I knew what he was asking. I remember the crush I had on my neighbor across the street. We had been friends since kindergarten, and had been classmates for 1st, 2nd, and 4th grades. We got along really well, and I knew from around 12 or 13 that I wanted to be her boyfriend. Unfortunately, things never progressed beyond the ‘just friends’ stage of things. It wasn’t from lack of effort on my part. We had just grown up together most of our lives that she didn’t see me as anything more than a brother and friend. “Dude, look. You just started to go through changes and you are starting to notice girls, but that doesn’t mean that you need to love every girl that shows you a little kindness or subtle interest. You need to slow down and let things happen naturally. You can’t force a relationship with someone.” Johnny pondered these words for a moment. I sat back and put my feet up on the coffee table. I looked around the room some more while I waited for another question. There was so much I had forgotten, but being back here had unlocked more and more memories that continued to wash over me. I was trying to hold on to my cool as not all those churned up recollections were pleasant. I stood up and walked over to the front door to peer outside the small central window embedded into the center of it. I could see the old neighborhood as I remembered it all those years ago. The lot across the street that served as a parking area for those that worked at the wheel works at the end of the block was empty of cars. I furrowed my brow as I thought for a moment. An empty lot meant it was afterhours or the weekend.
The gears in my own head started turning. “Wait, where is everyone?” I asked Johnny. Johnny turned to look at me still processing my last response. “Uh..oh, Mom and dad are out of town. They took a trip east this time. I think Rio said they are in Arizona right now. Rio and Nathan went out to get some food and to rent some movies from Video Showcase. Knowing them they’ll eat out first. Talia is staying over at Tia Rosie’s place today with her friends.” I grunted at his response. My mind was wandering as he mentioned Talia and Tia Rosie.
A sudden sharp pain pieced my heart. The pain of a thousand memories now unsealed spilled out from the box I had locked them away in. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes as I turned back to look at Johnny. He felt it too. He stared at the floor with an intensity that made me think it would burst into flames at any moment. I walked back over to him and sat next to him. He didn’t move. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and he threw himself into me. I could feel the tears dripping onto me as he sobbed intensely. “Hey man, its ok. It’s going to be ok.” I said as my own tears started to flow uncontrollably. I pulled him close and draped my other arm around him.
I knew the pain he was feeling. It was such a heavy burden, and I knew there was no one he felt he could talk to. I remembered it all so vividly. We sat there for what seemed to be an eternity. When we finally stopped sobbing, and our noses ran dry, we tried to breathe our way through to calmness. I got up and knelt in front of him. “Johnny, listen to me and remember what it is that I’m about to say to you. You are stronger than you think. You are stronger than you believe. NO ONE should ever have to go through this. Just because it happened to Talia, doesn’t mean you have to put up with it any longer. I know you didn’t think it was wrong, but I’m telling you that what she is doing to you is wrong. Talking to mom and dad isn’t going to make them hate you. You are not doing this to her, she is doing it to you. I’m not making excuses for her, but she is also more damaged than anyone realizes, and she is also dealing with the same level of pain you are. Remember that we do unto others what has been done to us. That doesn’t mean we need to continue the cycle of abuse” The lump in my throat grew immense at my own statement. I swallowed it as best I could and continued “You are going to deal with this pain a little bit at a time, and you’ll slowly get over this. It’s like a broken bone. When it happens, you don’t realize how bad the pain is until the adrenaline wears off, but then the immense pain is there. Just remember that this will pass. Just like a broken bone, you will heal over time, and one day, you will realize that the pain is gone and the bone is no longer broken. You’ll remember the pain, but it won’t hurt anymore.”
Johnny sat there in stunned silence. I knew he didn’t have anyone to help him through this. He couldn’t talk to Rio or Nathan about what was going on. Mom and Dad were constantly working to keep the family fed and sheltered and while they provided materially for their kids, emotional help was less available. Perhaps it was due to their energies being divided into 4 kids, a mortgage and multiple jobs, or perhaps it was also the culture of not talking about problems. Either way, they needed to know what was happening. They wouldn’t be able to fix it otherwise. “They’re going to be mad at me” he finally said after a few moments of silence. “No they won’t be. They love us all. I know you’re not used to hearing it, but they do love you. Everything they do is because of their love for us. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Telling them isn’t going to cause them to be angry.” I thought for a moment to find a good analogy. “You love Odie and Lady, right?” He nodded in agreement. “Ok, how would you feel if you knew someone you trusted was coming to the house and beating up our dogs when we weren’t around?” He thought about it for a second before his face changed to anger. “I’d want to kill them!” “Yes, but would you also feel sad that you weren’t there to try to protect them?” I reasoned. His face changed again. He understood what I was saying. Mom and Dad would be angry, but not necessarily at him. They would also feel a great sadness knowing that someone was hurting their child.
I smiled at him. He understood. I nodded. “Dude…You’re going to come to understand that life is not what you think it will be. Life is messy and can change in an instant. The plans you make today may not make it to next week. A lifelong goal can be derailed because of something out of your control. Mom and dad have spent their life protecting us with the goal of keeping us safe, but circumstances out of their control have affected their kids, and now we- you all have to deal with the fallout. Just remember that you are not the culprit. Yes, mom and dad will be hurt and angry, but not at you. Trust them. They don’t do things to hurt us” Johnny hugged me. I- He didn’t have many people he could trust and open up to. He liked to talk a lot about everything going on in his life, no matter how trivial. Everything, except this. This was a shameful topic, and he didn’t feel like anyone would understand why he didn’t go to an adult sooner. The problem was simple. He simply didn’t understand that it was wrong. Now that he had an adult that he could talk to, himself no less, he wanted to lift this burden off his shoulders. He was happy to have found someone and he hugged me tightly. I hugged him back just at tightly. It wasn’t every day that I could meet my younger self and help to comfort them. “Thank you” he said to me.
The world darkened, and everything faded to black.
I lifted my head out of my knees and looked around. I was sitting under the window in my old bedroom again. Had I fallen asleep? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. I was emotionally drained and incredibly tired. I hadn’t had sleep like that in years. I got to my feet and looked around the room briefly before walking out to mom and dad’s old room. I grabbed my camera and slowly walked the house, snapping picture after picture. The only sound to be heard was the sound of the camera shutter and my soft footsteps. I thought about my dream as I took pictures.
Upon entering my room, a random memory hit me.
The stash.
I was pretty sure I had taken the hidden box when I moved out all those years ago, but since I was here, I should double check. Heading into the closet, I pushed the panel that led to the attic space out of the way and peered in. I couldn’t see anything, so I reached up there to feel around. The box was indeed gone. I felt around for a few more seconds and was surprised to feel what felt like a thick envelope. I didn’t remember leaving anything up there, but after pulling it down and giving it a cursory glance, I figured it was an old envelope of lost love letters. It wasn’t until I blew off the thick layer of dust that I realized what I was holding. It was a letter. Not just any letter. It was addressed to me.
Under the now semi-cleared layer of dust were the words “To be opened by future me”. I looked at it for a few moments before opening it. I couldn’t remember making this at all, much less storing it up in my secret hiding spot. If ever I hid something, it was in the stash box. My hands shook a bit as I started to open the envelope and pulled out the yellowed pages inside. I started reading.
"Dear Future John. I have spent the last few years remembering a dream I had when I was younger. Life was…difficult at that time, and I spent a lot of time escaping my reality by reading a lot of books and watching a lot of TV. On the off-chance that what I think is a dream really happened. I wanted to write some things down in an effort to give you my thanks. I merely consider myself a conveyer of thanks, although I will pile on my own thanks to you for your words of encouragement. I remember finding a stranger in the house one day while I was home alone. I was afraid he was there to hurt me at first, but after a few moments, I came to realize I was meeting myself. Well, I was meeting me, but from the future. I think he said he was in his 40’s, but I couldn’t tell you with any certainty. Either way, we talked. We talked about life, and what the future held in store for us…
Mostly though, we talked about the abuse. Well, Talked is being generous. We cried, and then we talked. I don’t remember exactly what he told me, but I remember how he made me feel. He made me feel safe. I felt like I could trust him. Trust myself. In the end, he gave me the courage to stand up for myself both at home and at school. He also gave me the courage to talk to mom and dad about what was going on between me and Talia. I do remember being afraid that I would be punished, but he reassured me that they wouldn’t, and that they loved me.
It was a difficult and awkward conversation, but in the end, arrangements were made for me to share a room with Rio and Nathan. I didn’t have much of a relationship with Talia for a long while, but after some years, we managed to patch things up. She apologized to me, and I came to understand the abuse she herself was subjected to by so-called family friends. She didn’t tell me this in an effort to excuse it, but to merely help give me closure to a difficult time from my own childhood. Mom and dad promised to be more attentive to us and we sort of established what I guess you would call an open door policy. We talk more about stuff that’s happening in our lives. Mom is much easier to talk to now. Dad is a little more patient with us too. I apologized to them for not coming to them sooner, and dad gave me a “nugget of wisdom” that I think I’ll live by: We can’t fix what we don’t know is broken. I’ve tried to make sure I talk to them when something is wrong, and I’ve tried to implement that in my life so I don’t have problems with other people.
I’m trying to grow up to be a good guy. I want to have good relationships with people. Nathan says I’m turning into a people pleaser, but I don’t necessarily see that as a terrible thing. I know when to say no to someone. Well, either way, I wanted to make sure I thank you for the help you gave us. I probably won’t remember writing this, but I hope I do find it again someday. Here’s hoping I turn into the man I feel you are. -John Age 16."
I stared at the letter, the words blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. I quickly brushed them away as I quietly spoke to no one in particular. “Thanks guys. I hope I live up to your expectations” I folded the letter, placed it in my pocket, and walked out of the room. After picking up my backpack and tripod, I silently walked towards the front door, my footsteps echoing in the empty house. I turned to look back at the empty living room one last time, and after a moment, I walked out.

We have lived in our single family home for about a year now. Our next door neighbors are an older woman and her adult daughter. The woman has been kind to us since the beginning and interacts with our toddler often and throws the frisbee for our German Shepard over the fence sometimes. Our entire front yard has a chain link fence around it so we allow our dog to be out front throughout the day. Never for long but he enjoys it so he spends some time out there. Her daughter has a pit bull and my dog and that dog don’t get along. So whenever she has that dog out back they go at it through the fence. Usually as soon as we hear our dog barking we bring him inside immediately. So today she knocks on my door and when I answer she is immediately aggressive and basically yelling at me that when she gets home from work and let’s her dog out our dog cannot be outside bc they just go at it through the fence and her dog needs to use the bathroom(tall wooden fence they can’t have any contact at all through that part of the fence) and that bc of our dog her dog is going to become aggressive with her small dog and she can’t have it. I understand her frustration but I wish she would have communicated to me kindly bc we really do work so hard to be considerate neighbors and bring him inside during those times. Its a pain for us as well and her dog as just as aggressive towards ours. I also have 3 kids under the age of 4 and sometimes I don’t realize it happening, like today my mom and toddler let the dog out without my knowledge. I told her I’ve been trying my best to avoid it happening by bringing him inside whenever she gets home from work. It hasn’t happened in months to my knowledge. But like we are next door neighbors so… occasionally they’re going to be outside at the same time. We have had a good relationship up to this point but the way she spoke to me was really out of line and it upset me. Now I don’t know how to act towards her moving forward bc she came at me like she was the boss or something.

Hi Everyone. I have been encouraged to share my story here, as SA situations are different to those of general affairs. Both incredibly hurtful and traumatic.
I have been with my (30F) SA parter (30M) for 8 years. We have been living together for 7.5 years now. Own a home. Have a dog.
Throuhout our relationship we have one recurring issue: I'm not sexual enough for him. When we first started seeing one another we were incredibly active. I was aroused, in love, and keen for fun. We didn't do anything crazy overly crazy, but it was passionate and frequent.
Fast forward as we move through out relationship. Theres additional work, life and financial stressors. I'm not 23 living at home anymore, and my sex drive has decreased. On top of this, when we have sex I at times have felt degraded and demoralised. I never feel like what I do is enough for him, and he is bothered by my lack of ability to relax and orgasm. It doesn't help a low sex drive improve.
But again and again we've had this issue where he is grumpy, shitty, in a bad mood. And it comes out that it's because we're not having enough sex. But when we do, it's not experimental enough. I'm not fulfilling his fantasies, and he wants me to work up to doing more things (public sex, multiple partners etc). As we go along I become more and more repressed. I'm borderline on the asexual spectrum now, and no idea how I got here. Maybe I always was? But I dont think so.
One important note is that throughout all of these arguments I've defaulted to "maybe we're just not right for each other". I maintained that he deserves someone with the same sex drive, as do I. I get hit back with outrage that I want to "give up". Im encouraged we can work through this, and off we go staying together.
Mid last year we purchased our first home. I felt our sex life was in a much better place. I was happy in all aspects of my life. We're renovating the home, with all the excitement of what our future looks like there.
And here we are. 7 Days Ago I thought I'd tidy up one of our rooms and in a box of stuff I found a burner sim card. Immediately I knew something was up. I looked on his desk and his old phone (after receiving a new work one) was sitting there. I turned it on. A message pops up, asking for "send pics" etc. I couldn't actually see any suspicious messages. I could see he had an unread message, but it wasn't in the app. Nothing at all there except for old work messages. Until I realised there is an "Archive" section.
Well low and behold a series of evidence that my partner has been contacting people off the internet, off the apps, arranging meetings, having sex, asking women if they squirt, exchanging photos, including selfies. I've found one really long chain where he talked with this girl for ages. Checking in, discussing life, her dog, her relationship. He told her I was asexual and agreed he could have fun on the side. That never happened.
I was pretty broken. I've been pretty broken since then. Lost on what to do. Unable to eat. Unable to sleep. Completely destroyed. Yet he lies next to me, sleeping soundly. How is this fair?
In his previous relationship he did the same things. He had told me about meeting regularly with one prostitute while he was with his ex GF. He told me about his group sex adventures. Sex with pregnant women etc. Meeting with older men for blowjobs and anal sex. All of this was during his relationship in his early 20s - his girlfriend at the time was who he lost his virginity with.
What an idiot I was to feel that was all in the past, that it was a younger boy exploring his sexuality.
He has been open with me that he loves chatting online, pretending to be someone he is not for the thrill of it. No mention of any meetups, although he had expressed maybe it could be a solution when i was comfortable. I wasn't comfortable yet and made that clear, although a part of me wondered if it would just be easier to give it a try (one day). I always felt it would destroy me, and wanted to try sex therapy and work on ourselves first.
I could put all the messages down to silly little text exchanges for the thrill. But unfortunately, there have been addresses exchanged, dashcam footage and call logs that all point to the fact he has been meeting with people for years.
I have no idea if reconciliation is possible. Yesterday I thought it was. Today I don't think it will be.
After a reassuring phone call with him during a breakdown I was having on Tues night (he was away for work), he reassured me he loved me, had been scared of losing me while I was so distant, and we could work through anything. Last night (Wed) he was texting escorts for his one night in Sydney for work next week. Clearly it was all empty words.
From here: I meet with a therapist today. I think I'm pretty close to having a confrontation with him. I need to set my boundaries, and am hoping to discuss that today.
I don't know if I can do this. But this is my story.
TL;DR: My boyfriend of 8 years has a sex addiction and has been meeting with people off the internet and lying about it for at least 4 years, but probably for our entire relationship.

I (41/M) and my girlfriend (33/F) have been together for 4.5 years. We live together and have a dog, and have been talking about getting engaged and buying a house and having kids. She is a little nervous about that commitment ("forever is a long time"), but says she loves me and wants to do it. I have (or had) the ring picked out, but things have now come screeching to a halt.
I recently went through her phone and discovered that when we had been together for 8 months she colluded to sleep with a man in her home state. He cancelled on her at the last minute, and she continued to try and see him, but he had to leave town early. Their texts were flirty with hearts and kisses and things of that nature. She then continued talking to this person up until 2023 and they continued to discuss meeting one day when I wasn't in town (he was jealous and didn't want to meet me), but she swore it would just be coffee.
I felt hurt and betrayed by all this and confronted her. She admitted that yes she was trying to sleep with him that first year, but fate kept it from happening and now he's just a platonic friend who is sometimes flirty. She then admits that she also slept with another male friend of hers twice that first year we were together, 9 months in. After that I moved in, more time passed, and 2 years into our relationship she had a second cheating spree - "making out" with the person she slept with earlier, fooling around with a member of our friend group, and then a month after that sleeping with yet another friend. In our bed. Or well technically they didn't sleep together because he couldn't get it up, but she "tried" giving him a blowjob and some other gross stuff happened. They were trashed and never talked about it again.
That brings this up to four guys in total and keep in mind she's still talking to Mr. Missed connection during all of this. That was summer 2021. Getting all of this information was hard won after a week of gaslighting, trickle truth and lying to my face.
My jaw is just on the floor. I keep pushing her for more but she swears on our dog's life (weird move) that's she's now told me everything. Says that she loves me more than she's ever loved anyone and wants to get married. When I ask her WHY she says it was many coalescing factors - not realizing just how destructive cheating is, feeling scared of commitment and unsure about our relationship, wanting to explore feelings with other people to see if that's what she wants, insecurity and a need for validation. Now she says she realizes how devastating what she did was, and how much she loves me. It will never ever happen again because she's grown and has more self control now. Has stopped talking to these people and wants to attend therapy.
I think she's being honest with me at this point and does feel bad about what happened. She's been a mopey, sobbing mess for a month now. However I don't see how I can move past this much betrayal. I'm also not confident that therapy will magically fix all of her impulse control issues and of course she can have another period of feeling "unsure". My brain says I should walk, but my heart wants to hold on to this for dear life because I love her so much. I don't want to start over again.

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

After I discovered my husband’s affair, his affair partner LOST IT when he “broke up” with her the next day. She launched a series of emotional attacks on me, including having her friends DM my Facebook friends list including my relatives, coworkers, etc to humiliate me. She had her mother call me on the phone and scream at me and insult me. She hired an attorney and lied in court documents that she filed against me (attempted a restraining order against me) saying I was stalking her. (I have never laid eyes on her in person, I have only seen her in the naked pornographic videos of herself she sent to my husband that I found.) If the judge had actually believed her lies, it would have jeopardized my career and employability to have that on my record, which was terrifying when I was faced with getting divorced and having to fully support myself (one income household is rough these days as we all know).
She inflicted so much additional stress and damage onto me during the lowest, most traumatic and unstable time of my life. I was blindsided by my DDay and it destroyed me in so many ways. Dealing with her craziness and emotional attacks on top of everything nearly broke me. I do believe she was trying to get me to hurt myself. I definitely considered it.
I know she is a mentally ill woman. I mean, she was performing oral sex on her married coworker directly beside of a dumpster for months while engaged. She is diagnosed bipolar. Suffers from anorexia. Serially cheated on her fiancé with more guys than just my husband. I guess I just don’t understand why she came after ME so hard. She tried to ruin and destroy my marriage. She initiated the affair. I’ve read it all, where he initially turned her down several times and she escalated and started sexting him and pressuring him to meet up and then she gave him oral sex the first time they ever met up.
But Why did she hate me so much? Why did she try to ruin my life even more after my husband ended their affair? I just don’t understand how a person I never met in my life could purposely cause so much harm to me. He broke up with her and she came after ME?
My husband said she used to “stalk” my instagram and make comments to him about anything I posted such as if I posted where we went out to dinner or if we took our dog to the park or went on a vacation, etc. And she would complain how jealous she was. But how is any of that my fault??? She knew him for 10 months before she seduced him for fun. She chose to seduce a married man. I had nothing to do with her choice. Like; what the heck did I do to deserve a complete stranger I’ve never met to try to destroy everything I’ve worked for in my life (my career, my marriage, my financial situation, my home, my safety). What motivates these “other women” to think they are entitled to swoop in and “steal” someone else’s husband and lifestyle?
Anyway, I do realize this post is very blaming of the AP and not so much of my husband. Trust me when I say I very much blame him and hold him responsible for his choice and willingness to continually betray me. This post is more about after discovery. After discovery, this woman acted like SHE was the victim and I was the bad guy. It made no sense. Whereas,After Dday, my husband has completely done everything humanly possible to try to heal himself and repair our marriage including impatient treatment for pornography addiction, weekly individual therapy, weekly group therapy, etc. He never blamed me. He took full accountability and continues to do so.
We are 2 years post DDay and I still find myself wondering why his affair partner came after me so hard. I know he never said he was going to leave me. So I don’t know why she got so mad when he broke up with her. Was she delusional and expected him to leave his wife and life partner of 13 years for her when she was giving him oral sex beside a dumpster while engaged and while also dating other men?. (We have done a full therapeutic disclosure as well as multiple polygraph tests so I know my husband never told her he was going to leave me. In fact, he told her he was NOT planning to leave me ever.)

~~~ skip to this if you just want dog rage
My bf's mom decided to get a whole new dog after their old one passed away from old age. She now has a chronic illness that prevents her from doing even the smallest task (i wish her well, and she is not really the problem here).
The parents decided on a whim to adopt one without my bf's approval. Thats fine and all, they're adults and they can do whatever they want, right?
It turns out the mom was the main caretaker and trainer for the dogs. Now the burden is put on my bf alone even though he didnt even want the darn dog.
Bf works a full time job, studies, and does all the responsibilities he had before, plus his mom's share (this includes cleaning, vaccuming, dusting every week all by himself with a POMERANIAN. I could knit a little baby onesie with all the fur it shed this year alone). The mom has honestly been improving, but her mobility is so limited that her menial tasks take up 15 minutes every hour of his free time
And his dad is the breadwinner of the house that works from home, so it's natural that he... also tells my bf to do things (that he is able to do himself), like putting a mattress pad on his own bed. Or letting the dogs out when he's literally seated by the back door. Or waking my bf up when he wakes up to go to work (at 5am) just to make him feed the dogs (since middle school! 5-6 hours of sleep is the norm for him at his own house)
~~~
Ive been staying at my bf's house some days to help them out in emergencies. In fact, ive potty trained the 2 year old (now 3 year old) pom after about 3 weeks of excrement-filled night terrors. She is the sweetest little thing that wont bark unless theres intruders...
Which means the dad doesn't know when the hell to let her out. He puts in no effort to put them on a schedule DESPITE being the only one in the house during the daytime.
During work hours its okay because he has them corraled in his work room. But as soon as he takes a break in the living room, he zones out on the couch with whatever game or movie he's watching. His work, having constant meetings from 5am to around 11am, is not the problem.
He would literally take them out to pee at his lunch break at 11am and not even check on them until my bf gets home. At that point, just put them in the kennel! But he'd rather they be laying all around the living room or cuddling up to him on the couch. Suddenly, when my bf comes home, there's a puddle right outside the door! Who'da thunk?
Doesnt play with them. Doesnt remember to take them out aside from 1) after their 5am meal and 2) when he remembers to eat a snack/breakfast).
Yet he still wants them to roam around like theyre not just fluffy accessories at this point. Hell, if the game/show is really good, he will forget to feed them altogether and TELL MY BF to do it when he gets back (2.5 hours after their feeding time.... 4 shitstains and 2 pee puddles later. Several occasions). No arthritis or debilitating conditions either; he's just lazy.
The worst thing is that he pretends that she's not trained because she has "puppy brain". Sir, that dog is over 3 years old (vet confirmed). She'd be a grown adult with a partner and a mortgage on a small house in the outskirts of Mississippi if she were a human. Stop calling her dumb just because you wont do the bare minimum
And he totally ignores when she walks her happy ass to the door when i say "outside," and she needs to pee. I LITERALLY DID THE HARD WORK. YOU JUST NEED TO SAY A PHRASE EVERY HOUR OR SO. And every day he cares for her is another little bit of my training being flushed down the toilet. Just like my sanity these past few months.
And if it were not for my bf, they would just LEAVE THE SHIT AND PISS THERE TO DRY AND ATTRACT ANTS. He stayed at my apartment for like 3 days and there was....
1) shit by the front door (they have a puppy door to prevent them from going there) 2) a COMPLETELY DRY piss puddle under a solid wood chair by the back door. Complete with that wrinkly, hairy looking debris that you get with piss on tile. 3) 3 SEPARATE instances of poop. One had a 2 foot long snail trail that was connected by some sort of hair??? DISGUSTING. How could you not pick that up. 4) a freshly pissed puddle by the back door. According to the tile length, about 1 foot by 1 foot in diameter. IMPOSSIBLE TO MISS
And absolutely no intent on training the dogs either themselves or with a trainer 🤗
I swear to dog all these bad dog owners have in common are their laziness and excuses. Plus a dash of weaponized incompetence. Anyone else have experience with a good dog but terrible owner? Just like with kids, i feel like they'd thrive if they lived in a better home.
Tl;dr Why leave the 🐶 dogs OUT of the🔒kennel as someone who 🖥 works from 🏠 home? Because the 💩 poop and 🍵pee stains give the house 💖character💖 and we get our money's worth out of our son-maid 🥰
And sorry if the post was too long 😅

The title sounds really bad, I understand that. For some context, me and my boyfriend are 20 year olds in college. And my boyfriend has a elderly dog, Brownie. The sweetest boy ever. Lately Brownie hasn’t been doing very well at all. Earlier this week my boyfriend noticed a change in Brownie. And I quickly noticed as well with one trip to his house yesterday. Brownie would always get so excited whenever I would come. (he has a soft spot for me apparently) this time brownie did not immediately come to the door, he just laid there with a disheartening expression. Brownie seemed to lose all his sparkle. We had pizza and brownie would usually bark at us for pizza but this time he didn’t bother to even come over. I’ve been frantically searching for low cost vets, calling every vet in the area asking how much to just give him a look.
For some more context money is tight, I’m getting settled into a new job and my paycheck doesn’t hit till next week. And my boyfriend recently just lost his job, so not a lot of money there either. Despite being the family dog (more so my boyfriend’s), it seems no one really wants help to get brownie any help. When he’s clearly in pain. My boyfriend’s family life is far from perfect that’s all I’ll say. And money is tight for everyone, but no one’s shown any remorse or compassion for brownie.
I explained to my boyfriend that I’m completely disgusted with how little they care. I explained to him that money and costs aside they barely give brownie a glance and that compassion starts at just making sure brownie feels loved during a time of pain. I told him that I didn’t want to be around his family for the time being. Im so taken aback by lack of compassion from his family.
And more so disgusted that my boyfriend is fighting so hard with his parents for them to hear him out and get brownie at least seen by a vet. My boyfriend has fallen into a depression with the loss of his job, and with brownie’s health being on the line I’m not sure if he can handle losing his best friend.
My boyfriend is not angry at me for saying that about his family, but they’ve welcomed me with open arms and have even supported me. But I can’t get over the lack of compassion for brownie. Am I overreacting?

I don't really know why I'm writing this ... I think it's because I've tried to explain it to my uncle but all he said is that I should get my addiction under control and stop forgetting to take my meds.
I can't blame him. You see... I have a history. I've lost it in the past , twice actually. I'm not here to talk about it , but I think it's important to lay this down first. So you can understand.

I've been told something's wrong with my brain, maybe I was born this way, maybe I've been through too much. That my mother was an addict, she'd cut ties with her family for 10 years when she had me. That where she had been and who my father was, is was very unclear. She was part of a community in the forgotten part of the nearest big city when she died. I was there when it happened.
My uncle Sean and Aunt Maggie became my guardians just before my 5th birthday and I'm still with him 20 years later. Maggie left the ranch a few weeks ago after an amicable divorce, I never understood why they were together anyway she was always working somewhere, traveling a lot. I was closer to him and his sturdy way of life.

When I first arrived at the ranch, I was in a bad shape. I got better thanks to him but when I reached thirteen, all the memories from my early childhood suddenly came back. I started having flashbacks. My memories came back, but they came back wrong.

I had been told that my mother had died of an untreated infection. Yet in my dreams, I saw her , again and again , in a pool of blood. An then... Then it came. The... Thing. I won't describe it. It kind of triggers something in me that I really don't need right now.

I've been told that what happened next was so traumatic that my brain made up a monster, a fiction , to make sense of what I was seeing and not processing.
This ... Thing started obsessing me and during my early teenage years I focused all my energy on finding what it was and proving it happened. That a monster did kill and mutilated my mother. My nightmares were so bad that I stopped sleeping. I drank so much energy drinks that I ended up in the hospital twice with severe dehydration.

Thankfully, I got better. I started working more and more with my uncle's horses. I think it's why he employed me, he saw how manual work and caring for the animals helped. I even got my first girlfriend around my 17th year. I was prom king. Who would have thought?
But then... She had a cheerleading accident. In front of me. And I lost it again. I won't go into details but she broke her neck during half-time and once again... The way she fell, folded and screamed. I couldn't process. It was IT. It'd shapeshifted to get to her. I'm ashamed of it but I became violent. Looking for it franticly. Screaming non sense and talking made up words. I had to be sedated. She made it alive, but she never wanted to see me again. I was accused by pretty much everyone to make the accident all about myself. And they were kind of right....

Now you know how I came to be the " crazy" guy. I have a bit of a drinking problem too to be honest... You see I never went back to high school. I started working full time at the ranch when I came by, and sometimes, it gets lonely. It's not rare to find me passed out in the hay in the early morning in the summer. And what can I tell you... I know I shouldn't. I know it's "bad" . But I love those nights. I put music , cuddle with my dog and just look at the cold bright stars, drinking beer until they start spinning.

It's because of this bad habit that I realized something was wrong with the horses. You see, contrary to the movies, horses are pretty silent. They don't neigh unless you separate them from their best mate or bring food. And that night... The night it all started. They wouldn't stop. I could hear them galloping and snorting. I wondered if there was a stray dog but they were used to dogs. I was a bit worried. Horses get stupid when they are afraid and we had a big show coming, it wasn't the time so sprain a leg. What really troubled me was my dog. He seemed ... Weird.
Max was a pit mix my uncle had rescued when I was 15. He only woke when I got up and walked a bit to look at the paddocks. That's when I realised the moon behind me. It was huge, and red. I wondered if I had ever seen it so close and so red before. I looked at Max The white of his eyes showed and he started whining. I had never heard him make this noise. Ever.

I looked at my phone. It was quarter to three. I took a pitchfork to be safe and walked toward the clubhouse. We kept a shotgun there in a locker. The horses kept going crazy and max's tail was stiff. I was walking fast but carefully in the darkness when the music reached me. A chant. A low chant. I kind of felt it too... Like a ... vibration.
It was coming from the yearlings field near the forest patch, on the opposite direction of the clubhouse. My horse was in this field. I backtracked immediately and rushed toward the sound as I dialled my uncle. Off course he didn't answer. He didn't live on the property anymore but a few miles away. I left a message, whispering. " I'm at the stable, something weird ‘s happening. I think they're people messing with horses I'm going to see. I think you should come , I don't know...Call me back.". The weird chant buzzed in the background, louder, as if more people had joined. I saw the glow of the fire before I passed the last building. It rose , under the bloody moonlight. Dark figures circled around it. Slowly. The horses seemed to have retreated at the other end of the pasture and I was relieved. Until I saw it. The figure at the centre of this dark carousel. " What the f are those creeps doing" escaped my lips.
blazing fury filled me , like a white iron like a white hot blade blinding me . "HEYYYY" I screamed at the top of lungs. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING !? ". The figures stopped and turn toward me. I was running now , my knuckles going white around the pitchfork's stick. Max was growling. A deep growl. His hair high upon his backbone. The figure, still pretty far did not move. I could see their heavy hooded cloaks. " what kind of sick pricks are those " I muttered. " HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY" I screamed again, louder than I ever thought I could scream. And then I saw him. Gun.
Gun was my uncle's favourite horse. His old stallion's spitting image. The young horse was lying in front of the fire behind the intruders.
"WHAT DID YOU DO! I'M CALLING THE COPS!!!!". I stopped and was dialling when a figure detached itself from the group and advanced. It seemed to ... float? It moved toward Max and I... so silently.
The burning rage in veins turned cold , and heavy. I opened my mouth but nothing crossed my lips. Suddenly, Max jumped. He growled in a way I hope to never hear any dog do again. A desperate, furious growl. A life or death sound. A war cry... His warm blood spattered on my face. He... Honestly I don't know what happened at that moment. Something lied bloody on the ground but I couldn't even have told that it used to be a dog, even less Max. Acid tears filled my eyes as I realized my mouth was still open. I was tasting him.
I wanted to scream, to run, to just get swallowed by the earth and yet I did nothing at all but stare at the floating silhouette. It was so tall. " Come, my child". " We were waiting for you, we knew you'd come, Your father told us you'd be here when we'd call".
I heard those words, but I wouldn't be able to tell you anything about the thing who spoke them. I say thing because it didn't have a voice. It... Buzzed. Like... a cello.
Suddenly... I floated too. Panick seized me. Like a trapped raccoon in my
chest it dug its claws, scratching furiously my closed throat.
" Your father said you were ready. We will prepare you." I was now in front of the crackling blaze. the other figures circling me. Smiling Men and woman welcomed me. On their faces they all wore a similar mark. a cross covering their eyes horizontally, and their nose and mouth vertically. Their hands... Their hands were still dripping with gun's inside. Gun... Was ... opened.
" A necessary sacrificed" whispered a woman, still smiling. " I know you liked him very much... I'm sorry..." " I could have taken yours, but I knew you wouldn't have forgiven me'. Her voice. .." Aunt Maggie?' I croaked. Her eyes shone with a mad light. " Gosh do you look like your mother tonight... She'd be so proud. Her baby boy..." .
The tall figure made a gesture and I spined and found myself looking at the sky. I thought I'd fallen but... I wasn't touching the ground...
My aunt continued speaking." She was just like you the first time ... So... naive, so afraid.. She was only 16! That was our mistake you see, she wasn't ready for her destiny yet when she joined us... That's why we waited for you."
The chant , the low buzzing chant rose once again. The people around me started walking in a circle around me. I was just above Gun's body.
One, by one, they buried they hands in the belly of the horse and traced the cross on my face. I sealed my lips as tight as I could as the warm blood covered my face. Through the blood and tears I recognize faces. A nurse from the hospital. A teacher. The coffeeshop barista. My psychiatrist... I closed my eyes.
It was a nightmare. It couldn't be anything but a nightmare.
Yet the smell of the horse's inside and the crackling fire still reached me as they started ripping my clothes off.
" This is not real" I whispered. " This is not real, this is not real THIS IS NOT real" I screamed weakly.
'Oh , My dear I'm so sorry ' whispered my aunt. I should have told you earlier... But Dr Carter said it was better to let you grow up a bit first. He said it help you keep the secrets if you were afraid of them. I'm sure you don't feel this way, but it was an honour to watch your mother ascend the way she did. Her agony was the most beautiful thing she could have hoped for. You were supposed to ascend with her but she ruined it". " Slut" groaned a middle aged woman before spitting on the floor.
" She was my best friend you know... I thought I knew her. I thought I could trust her. But she lied to me."
"You see, we know you are his son. But... She wasn't a virgin when she was honoured."
She smiled. " It doesn't matter how cruelly she tricked us. You can help us find the perfect girl."
One by one, each member traced a symbol on my skin.
" You're so handsome... He'll be so glad. The perfect boy. The perfect vessel."
"It's almost time, Prepare" hissed the tall figure.
" You're going to give him his heir, the one ruler among the realms. You see he can't travel here whenever but you're an anchor my love. Each generation he choses an anchor until he finds one who'll give him THE son, the one who'll die for his freedom. Our freedom."
"QUIET SLAVE AND KNEEL" shrieked the tall figure.
She kneeled right near me, and whispered " You're...". I heard a slash. Aunt Maggie’s face slid horizontally. Her eyes followed me as the upper part of the face slid slowly toward the ground.
" HAIL THE PRINCE".
A chant, colder and louder than never before rose with the crackling flames toward the moon.
" Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young! » chanted the disciples."
Frozen, I watched the blazing sky above and saw a door. A perfect wooden door , in the sky. It slowly cracked open as the crowd turn to hysterics and the chant turned to mad screams.
"MY SOOOOOOOON" The whole earth seemed to split open under the weight of the sound coming from the perfect rectangle of empty darkness in the sky.
And then... I saw... I saw what I had tried to forget for twenty-years. I saw those split red eyes and their evil glare. I saw the iron hooves at the end of too many legs. I saw the tentacles who fled my mother with their thousand beaks. Everything all at once, I saw it shift, from an odious form to a more loathsome one. I burned in a way I'll never be able to describe.
I woke up two weeks ago in the nearest hospital. I was found on the ground, surrounded by the yearlings, the corpse of gun and some remains of Max. My uncle explained to me that I had found a bear feasting on Gun, that Max must have attacked it and I'd fainted or been knocked out trying to scare it away. Laying lifeless had saved me. I didn't speak of what I saw at the hospital. I knew better now. I've tried to explain to my uncle why I had to move out to the big city. That I had a mission now. That I had never been crazy and that I shouldn't have been afraid.
I know now that I'm blessed. You see he thinks I'm just having another episode, that it’s a "manic" episode and I should go back to the clinic, but I know better now. I am special. I am. And he can be too. Anyway... He'll be whether he joins or not. You'll all be. Because he is coming. He 'll bless us all. Because you see, I know I can find her and I'll give him the perfect door. A door to let him in. A door to let all of him in. He'll honour us all, all at once.
" Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young! »

We are trying to decide which flooring to go with for our home. I’ve heard mixed reviews for both.
We know a few people with Hybrid and 3/4 love it, with the other not liking it due to having dogs (noisy and water damage). We don’t know anyone personally with vinyl, but I have someone strongly recommending it over hybrid, as you can silicon the edges and stop bugs coming in from inside the walls.
What is everyones experience with these products?
Are either water proof? Does the vinyl expand like hybrid? How long will they last? Which is more scratch and dint resistant? Will they peel/ top layers wear away? Any issues of bugs getting in with hybrid flooring? Can you get away with $30 per m2 for either product? (We on on a budget) Does the thickness of the plank make a difference? Any brand recommendations?
We have just ripped out our old tiles and have ground down the floors. They are pretty level. We are putting the new flooring throughout the whole house except the bathrooms and laundry. It’s a single story home. We have no pets. We are a little nerves about glue down flooring, after going through the whole process of taking up the tiles😅
We will also be installing the flooring ourselves. If we go with hybrid, we will have a family member who installed his, help us. If we go with vinyl, my mother in law, who is a tiler will install our flooring.

So, like many of us in this Reddit space are here to share stories from a time when we were naïve and probably convinced we were with our soulmate. at the timing of the end of this relationship, I was 23 (m) she was 22 (f). We really were only together for about a year and a half. However, there was some history between us that encouraged us to get together in the first place after our previous relationships. We knew each other for about five years at the time we got together. And we got together very fast after fairly lengthy relationships. The thing is, she had an apartment and her ex moved out. I kind of slowly started staying around a lot after he moved out and about 6-7 months into the relationship we moved in together into a new apartment and everything up to that point was so amazing.
I was very acclimated with her family. She wasn’t very much acclimated with mine actually. There was a dog in the middle that we had but it was technically her dog, but that dog does love me so much and I miss that dog so much now. Very skittish dog and the love was very apparent when I was around because I basically took a lot of responsibilities and taking care of the dog from the second I started being around. Now to the actual point of where this leads to…
So this year January, she broke up with me. It was very apparent, and there were writings on the wall that the spark was kind of gone and it was just hard to be around each other. Very ironic, but probably some type of psychological explanation because I swear I had so many opportunities to talk to new woman, but I valued loyalty more than anything to her and wanted to make things work no matter how hard. The next thing you know, she is noticeably, distant, asking for space and very hostile all the time. I kept telling her hey why do I just feel like your roommate and not your boyfriend anymore? you know I never had thought of anything suspicious from her side because I was convinced that she loves me. She’s basically had a crush on me you know since we were very young, as I said five years before we even got together she had a thing for me.
Now there were some crisis stages of living together where I am actively learning about God in my life and trying to place God as the pedestal for the way that I live my life, and those values differed. But at the end of the day, I accepted our differences and wanted to make it work, but it was very hard and I didn’t really see the sacrifices. She was willing to make for me. Now by no means was I perfect. I had a lot of flaws when it came to dealings with certain things and maybe not being reassuring in the ways that I was supposed to. However, my love for her was through the roof. She’s made me feel like nobody else ever has in my life and before her I was in a four-year relationship. So fast-forward, she breaks up with me on the same day that actually bought a new car (paid cash) which is something I thought she would be very excited for me about because my old car was a piece of junk and we usually took her car around. And I told her and she was absolutely expressionless.
As soon as that was the case, I was in a very dark state immediately. Prior to this there is a few days that I was really trying to get things rolling and some positive way between us and again it was just a matter where the spark was gone and she didn’t really want anything to do with me and it was making me so sad and frustrated. After I came home telling her that I bought a new car and she didn’t respond I start questioning her on a whole Lotta things and eventually she spills out that she no longer has feelings for me and says we’re broken up. Immediately, I’m in shambles. I think it was a Tuesday and the next day was a Wednesday where we normally spent all of our time together. I’m crying all night. I sleep in a separate room and see you was just quiet. The next Wednesday she goes out doesn’t really say anything and this is what was the hardest part. The person that I loved more than anyone in the world basically just stopped telling me anything and sharing anything with me.
She leaves the next morning. I tried to pull information out of her for her to tell me she was going apartment touring. That broke me as well. There was about 10 weeks left on the lease. I couldn’t even begin to think about that. However, I have to plead with her to keep her location on because I’m concerned about her and I still admittedly loved her, and all I wanted to do was reconcile and try to find a place of comfort. And her location she turned it off and turned it on and then it was like kind of weird on my phone, but eventually, I was basically stalking her because I was that insecure. She goes to one place and then another place and she’s gone all day and doesn’t tell me a thing. There is a place that she went to that confused me but I guess I excused it because she said she was apartment touring but it didn’t really make a lot of sense. This one place later on becomes an an answer to me. I talked to my family and friends and they basically accused her of cheating and I wasn’t having it because I couldn’t handle any more pain honestly.
Fast forward, though for the next two months basically we still live together and she was still being very secretive and I’m still hurting more and more. It was a very traumatic experience to just watch this girl I love change and be so different around me and I couldn’t feel any different way. It was really affecting me on a daily basis every single day and night. And that’s because I was admittedly, too emotionally dependent on her. it became very apparent that she was basically seeing someone else and wouldn’t fess up to it so quickly however this person wasn’t a boyfriend according to her because she wanted to be single. But she’s not coming back overnight, so I’m like where are you sleeping? She says don’t worry about it. I’m doing everything around the apartment. I’m taking care of the dog that it’s technically hers that I love a lot yes but you know. Sometimes she would come back and we would still often sleep in the same bed because I couldn’t sleep on the couch because that would just be very physically uncomfortable for me.
She was doing this and again I just had to live with it mind you she’s also told me some things like hey I believe in the right person wrong time idea and I still love you . It only gave me hope but it also put me through so much more pain as well. So just from a matter of how fast she was moving on to seeing another guy I feel like that should’ve been a key indicator, but I kept asking her if she cheated on me. She never said she did. I tried my absolute best to believe her every time. She also got approved for an apartment and had a roommate with some person who I didn’t really trust in the past, but I see now that that person is not significant in why the relationship broke. However, something that I have yet to mention is that she never really told a single person about our break up not family or friends. I wouldn’t have survived if I can tell no one because I was just going through it. You know I think this traumatic phase in my life and it’s making me realize that I think I have ADHD too.
Anyways, she was basically slowly moving out while I had my attempts to move out to a new place that kind of failed. I moved back in with my parents because of the roommate dependency of other people wasn’t working too well. Mind, you still pretty much through our time continuing to live together while I am deeply scarred and depressed. I am still actively trying to reconcile the relationship in someway. I was basically reflecting on everything that I did wrong and trying to better it while I was still living with her. That and I was just doing so many nice things like making all her meals and doing so many nice things for the dog buying things here and there. I was acting as a complete Simp believe me I hated it, but I missed her. At the same time I did not hate it though because I genuinely like doing things for other people and she was my outlet for that often.
Nonetheless, towards the end of the time before she moved out officially this is a part where I found out she cheated on me. There was about two weeks left on the lease or so. Quick note because I forgot to mention that we stopped having sex probably for a good amount of time and a red flag that I couldn’t overlook is the fact that she said she needed sex where I didn’t feel as I always desired it because it should be sacred. This could’ve very well been the nail in the coffin for her. Even though so many other things were good in my opinion she and I did not share the same values..
So we both wake up, she has an appointment to be at in the morning. I make food in the morning and I offered some. She takes a shower and gets changed in the bedroom. She left her phone in the bathroom unlocked and I looked through with major hesitation. Text showed nothing but then I showed that flo app (where women track their period and when they have sex)… my heart caught on fire. To see the amount of times she was having sex and also before we broke up, hurt me so bad but not as bad as I thought it would at the same time. I couldn’t look much further honestly, but I got my answer and I had to research to make sure I was looking at that correctly. I then questioned her, she would not admit and basically decided to move out that night, officially which put me in a pretty tough spot because she took the Internet.
I’m a big person on faith I’ve kept in touch with her somewhat and I’m doing my absolute best to forgive her. But I definitely cannot forget. What’s weird is that after we officially moved out the apartment and everything together she started sharing her location with me on Snapchat. Mind you I have a suspicion of who she was cheating on me with because I was investigating you know. I’m definitely more handsome and charismatic. I now notice her go to the same place she went to the day after we broke up pretty often. It’s not where she lives. It’s pretty close to her work. Do the math. I have tried to talk to her a few times about this topic and she certainly gets uncomfortable every time it is brought up. I just wanted it told from her for my closure, but I guess I don’t need it.
But yeah, that experience, especially living together after the break up was not fun and I don’t recommend it for anyone. I wouldn’t put my worst enemy through that. The lesson that i learned is that it can take two to build something great but only one to destroy it. Therefore, build something great on your own. Someone will be waiting there when you’re done.

My partner (M) and I (F) (both 26) have an 8 month old baby. We are both first time parents and got pregnant with our accidental miracle quite early in our relationship but just felt it was right. We also own a house and dogs together. From 2 weeks old to around 5 months, I got up for our baby every single night. My partner had the attitude that he worked and I didn’t so it was my responsibility. We were quite lucky as our baby is a relatively good sleeper, just the usual every 3 hour wake ups as a new born and then seemed to get better and better with age. We have hit a few regressions as expected and when that happened I had enough of doing it on my own. I started getting my partner to help out and this has just caused fight after fight. His usual argument is that all I would do is look after the baby and sit around all day while he was at work. Which isn’t true, I look after our baby, take him to his weekly activities, clean the whole house myself, look after the pets and cook all meals. I see it as we both have hard jobs. I am now also back at work myself, I do an office job while my partner does have a more physical job yet not quite a trade.
My partner recently went away for work interstate. I had our baby for 5 nights on my own which also ended up being some of our hardest nights with his sleep. I was so looking forward to my partner coming home to help out, and of course I just missed him in general.
Once my partner got him he said he was exhausted, which I understand as he worked hard while he was away. He also stated he went to the pub each night he was away and had amazing sleeps which I’m happy he got to do! I told him how hard our nights were and he just kind of brushed it off. Our baby ended up having another awful night that night, I got up initially to deal with it but was struggling so asked my partner to have a turn. He immediately started yelling at me, that I have no respect, that he works and I should deal with it because I don’t do anything etc. he called me a fucking moron amongst other things. He also essentially shouts at our baby when he gets frustrated about the lack of sleep. I always go to step in at this point and he brushes me off.
Eventually I did take over and stayed up for 2 hours trying to settle our baby. My partner heard me crying in the room but still doesn’t offer to help. It just leaves me feeling so alone. He preaches that we are a team but anytime it comes to helping out at night, I’m on my own.
I always think maybe tonight will be the night he will just help without a fight but I always end up regretting asking. It’s miserable to know I can’t rely on the person I thought I could trust the most.
I just don’t know if I’m overreacting? AITA

So this is an idea I spoke of a little bit in a book I'm working on and I figured I'd share the idea I had with everyone here.
Concept- If souls are eternal, and have specific goals in mind for incarnations, it is also possible that they would have respite incarnations.
I had the thought that the pets we keep could be just that. Sort of like a cruise liner retirement for a soul after a weary or troubling life. It is a place where their needs are cared for ((again, assuming we choose on some level where / when to incarnate, it's reasonable to assume they know what sort of incarnation they're in for)) Generally speaking, people love their pets unconditionally. Take very good care of them. Tell them they are good, and how much they are loved.
Now, if you had a REALLY shitty incarnation, one that just took alot out of you. Maybe you had to play the villain for someone, or maybe you were the victim.
Wouldn't it be nice to have a place where you are told all the time what a good boy/girl you are? How much you're loved? Shown actual unconditional love.
Consciousness likely on a slower frequency, just so it can process the life quietly. Sorta like being carried on a cruise ship through the waters while you are safe aboard, instead of handling it all yourself. Allowed to just sit and decompress.
Supposedly cats can astral project while sleeping, right? What if that's literally just the soul taking a break or something, mid game, so to speak?
It would also potentially explain why they do not hang around as long. They do not need to stay for an entire new lifetime. A couple decades or so is enough to have your cruise. Your decompression. The Vacation Incarnation.
Ever since I looked at it like this, I have honestly been even more affectionate with my own pets.
---Side note--- I also have a metaphor I use for life = A video game. Our bodies are the avatar, the soul is the player. Imagine if it's similar for dogs and cats, like the game stray? You get points by being loved on. You leave little markers like Death Stranding when you pee somewhere. Get to sleep and take a break from the game any time you want. You never forget it's a game.

My husband and I were at a hotel with our (late, R.I.P.) cocker spaniel. He wasn't that big, just a foot high at the withers and about 20 pounds but stocky AF. 😂 We also know our dog. For whatever effed up reason people like to pet a strange dog by reaching with their hand, palm side down, to pet their forehead. While SOME dogs are amendable to that, not ALL dogs are, and our dog was one of them. If you did that to him he'd snap at you. He's got trauma from his puppyhood and is not at all trusting, certainly not from folks he doesn't know and are essentially "swatting" him with their "paw" when they reach out that way.
I don't remember why, but I was carrying our dog as we exited our hotel room to leave, either maybe take the dog out, go for a walk, whatever, that's not important. What is important is what happened next.
I step out onto the hallway of the hotel and my husband is right behind me, I'm carrying our dog. A boomer couple was walking down the hallway when they saw our dog. Now, he was a real cutie. (Dog tax.) I'm a dog lover and I want to pet ALL the dogs but I don't just do so without asking permission first.
So the boomer wife squeals, "Awww! What a cute dog!" She moves forward with her hand out (palm down as described above, reaching to pet his forehead). My husband quickly says, "Please don't touch our dog." Our fear was that he'd bite someone and we'd have real issues on our .. "paws."
Do you think the boomer wife listened? No.
She moves even fucking faster towards our dog and right before she actually gets to him, and since I'm carrying him I can hear his low growl in his chest, I turn my whole body so my back is to her and she doesn't get to pet my dog.
Boomer husband decides to go to her defense and say angrily, "She's just being friendly!" referring to his wife. My husband piped up and said, "We told you NOT to pet OUR dog." (emphasizing these words)
Right as boomer husband was about to say anything I piped up, "Didn't your parents teach you any manners about NOT touching things that aren't yours?"
This stunned them both, boomer husband was literally left speechless with his mouth agape. She muttered something about "rude millennials" (ha! We're Gen-Xers) when I muttered loudly, "The ENTITLEMENT of some people towards other people's property is fucking rude AF" to my husband.
The five of us ended up at the elevator. 😂 I was still carrying my dog when it was obvious boomer husband was trying to get the elevator to leave us when I held out an arm to hold the door and my husband and I both stepped in. Fuck them if they think they can intimidate us.
And no, she never got to pet our dog. Because fuck her. Had she asked NICELY we would have taught her how to approach our dog.
I FUCKING SWEAR boomers have ZERO boundaries when it comes to their entitlement.

I found a 4 leaf clover on (5-5-24). Everyone believes it is cursed and want me to get rid of it. I am not sure if it's actually cursed though, or if it actually gives goodluck in the times of bad. The reason everyone thinks it's cursed is because the next day (5-6-24) is when the tragedies started.
The first tragedy is my house caught on fire on the Monday of (5-6-24). The breakerbox exploded and shot out flames. We ended up and having to stay in hotels this last week.
From there things just kept happening. My brother in law had heart problems and was in the ER for 3 days. (5-7-24) He got lucky to not have a heart attack. Just irregular beat for those days.
Next my roommates girlfriend might have a tumor in her uterus. His mom has a lump on her breast. And his dad is on his death bed. (5-8-24) We will call him roommate number 1.
On (5-9-24) Roommate number 2s childhood dog died.
On (5-10-24) my trauma responses hit. For some reason i get a delayed response to trauma. So if I lose an arm. I wont stress or react for 1 to 2 days. It hit me on this day. Which is 4 days so that is a longer one. So my mom and I worked at the same place. She ended up and getting fired on that friday. I'm exhausted because we worked the night shift and they wanted me to work despite the fire because everything's closed during my hours anyway. We will have to see how my work relations go after that.
(5-11‐24) I get the city report for the fire. They found $1000s of dollars worth of stuff I have to fix to be up to code, this stuff is not fire related so insurance won't cover it.
(5-12-24) We have two dogs and my friend was watching one for us and we had the other. We would let the dog into the backyard of the house during the day. I left her there and went to church. Someone broke into the garage and house and left the doors open. They stole a gun from the house and either took the dog, or she ran away. We don't know. My friend that is watching our other dog just called me crying. The other dog broke his outside leash and ran into the highway and got hit by a car. He was dead immediately.
(5-14-24) 2 things happened one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today.
So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together.
The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages.
The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer.
I found him. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones.
This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies that day. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police.
Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck.
I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons.
First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?

I was always different from my family. I was physically abused by my mother when she would drink. My father died of an overdose. My sister was always violent and temperamental toward me. My dog was killed by my mother when I took the first step to independence by moving some distance away from her, by euthanizing her before her time. I moved from the US to Canada and began living differently.
With distance, things seemed to change. I forgave my family and my mom started therapy and seemed over phone calls to change. My sister had kids. Years passed and I have cultivated an entirely different lifeway, culture, and worldview. My life with my husband is peaceful. Then we received news my grandfather, who I mostly always liked, was dying of pancreatic cancer. I was living in remote northern wilderness in isolation for my job, and had to move mountains so to speak to attend and be present for this. I am now here.
Two days in, I tried to communicate how disturbed I felt by that individual preferences of my other family seemed to take precedence over my grandfather's. Small stuff like constant noise and busybess in the house as he is within days of passing, or everyone being glued to screens and having constant tv on. Or me being the sole person to try and keep the kids outside after my grandfather expressed that their loudness, screeching, throwing things around was keeping him from resting. But also big stuff like my college-aged cousin having over his girlfriend, who is a stranger to me and many other family members, and who showed up speaking loudly of leaving for a trip to a beach destination, laughing loudly, and dressed/presented totally inappropriately (ordinarily I do not care how others dress). My grandfather expressly wanted only close family present, and that he most of all wants peace and quiet and for the house to not have so many people in it.
Anyway, a fight occurred. I was told aloud that I'm actually the one who doesn't belong here, I have no business being present in the house. I perceive everyone here as selfish, insane. My grandfather is the only one who has validated me. He told me moving far north was the beat thing that could happen for me probably, that the others do not understand and never will, etc. But he also apparently told my mother that he wishes I did not come here, doesn't think I could handle seeing him like this, etc. So I just feel ashamed.
I feel so alone. I want to go back to my wilderness place. I have so much confusion. The only positive thing other than getting to say my goodbyes, is the time I have spent playing with my nephew, who is the only family member that seems to like me at all. I told my sister and mother both that I simply don't belong here, we cannot see similarly on matters of literal life and death, I don't feel it makes sense to only have a distant relationship over text/phone, and we clearly just never have had common ground in my entire life. I want to part ways once and for all.
The icing on the cake is that I have been asking for years to stop being called my given first name. I hated it since I was a child and asked to be called either my middle name or my childhood nickname (Goose). I asked at least 20 times this visit alone. No effort is made.
I'm just done. I feel empty. I don't know or care if I'm the problem because I just want it all to end and be put behind me. My flight to return is tomorrow. I don't think they will ever see me again, and told them that. My sister freaked out and tried to manipulate me into feeling obligation toward her kids, who I only ever have had a relationship with these two days. I think they will be okay and are on their own life paths. My mother simply said "okay". No one else cared to begin with since I'm already nothing to them.

I found a 4 leaf clover on (5-5-24). Everyone believes it is cursed and want me to get rid of it. I am not sure if it's actually cursed though, or if it actually gives goodluck in the times of bad. The reason everyone thinks it's cursed is because the next day (5-6-24) is when the tragedies started.
The first tragedy is my house caught on fire on the Monday of (5-6-24). The breakerbox exploded and shot out flames. We ended up and having to stay in hotels this last week.
From there things just kept happening. My brother in law had heart problems and was in the ER for 3 days. (5-7-24) He got lucky to not have a heart attack. Just irregular beat for those days.
Next my roommates girlfriend might have a tumor in her uterus. His mom has a lump on her breast. And his dad is on his death bed. (5-8-24) We will call him roommate number 1.
On (5-9-24) Roommate number 2s childhood dog died.
On (5-10-24) my trauma responses hit. For some reason i get a delayed response to trauma. So if I lose an arm. I wont stress or react for 1 to 2 days. It hit me on this day. Which is 4 days so that is a longer one. So my mom and I worked at the same place. She ended up and getting fired on that friday. I'm exhausted because we worked the night shift and they wanted me to work despite the fire because everything's closed during my hours anyway. We will have to see how my work relations go after that.
(5-11‐24) I get the city report for the fire. They found $1000s of dollars worth of stuff I have to fix to be up to code, this stuff is not fire related so insurance won't cover it.
(5-12-24) We have two dogs and my friend was watching one for us and we had the other. We would let the dog into the backyard of the house during the day. I left her there and went to church. Someone broke into the garage and house and left the doors open. They stole a gun from the house and either took the dog, or she ran away. We don't know. My friend that is watching our other dog just called me crying. The other dog broke his outside leash and ran into the highway and got hit by a car. He was dead immediately.
(5-14-24) 2 things happened one of the bad lucks happened a few months ago but it completed today.
So a few months ago I started having these dreams about these spirits coming in and taking one my pet rabbits. I had these dreams every day for a week. The spirits had already picked a bunny they were taking. After that week, when I came home. All of the rabbit cages were thrown around, and the rabbits were out everywhere. The bunny was not missing. I fixed the cages and put everything back together.
The next day I came home to the same thing. Rabbit cages everywhere. But all of the rabbits were accounted for even the one that was chosen. This would happen every day for a week straight. And I did everything I could to prevent the cages from being thrown around. I reinforced them, and made for sure that they weren't falling. But every day I had come home to find them trashed. But was able to get all the bunnies back in the cages.
The very last day none of the cages were trashed. Everything was still in its place. Except for the cage of the bunny that was chosen, the door was opened and the bunny was gone. I tore the house apart for 4 days straight, looking for that bunny, but there was no sign. A few months have went by since then. And I've never had a problem with the cages since. I imagined the Bunny running around in the fae lands or something. But I always wonder if I would just randomly find him dead on a day that the bad luck wanted to make me suffer.
I found him. There was a tank of water in my basement, that catches the sewer water that overflows into the basement. It's hard to reach and usually behind the washer but since we have the electrician fixing the breaker box that exploded I took that tank outside and dumped it out. The Bunny came out. Is it almost looked still alive. Just wet. I picked him up and he fell apart. All that was left was hair and bones.
This bad luck was one that happend before the clover. But I was right on him appearing at a bad time. A half an hour later, one of my bunnies randomly laid down and died. So I feel like the bad luck took 2 bunnies that day. Even though one was actually mouths ago. With both bunnies form both times going at the same time. That tells me all of this was planned. It's been planning all of this for awhile.
The bad things keep piling up. But there are good events to counteract some of the bad. Not all have solved yet. The dogs are a hard one. The gun worries me that it will be used in a crime and I will get blamed. I did report it to the police.
Everyone believes that the 4 leaf clover is cursed because that's when this started. It's from a type of clover that does not grow 4 leaves. The normal 4 leaf clover from Ireland is a different type. So this one is a mutation. I look at it as rarer and luckier because of the mutation. I look at it like I found a shiny Pokémon. Everyone else says it's bad because it's mutated and the bad genetics create bad luck.
I am torn because I don't want to just get rid of it. As a kid I spent hours looking for 4 leaf clovers before I was told these ones won't grow them. So it was a childhood disappointment fulfilled.
So what I was thinking of doing. Is maybe I will post it on ebay as the cursed 4 leaf clover. I will include this story printed out. I will gather as much proof of the tragedies as I can. I know my house was in the paper. Maybe I will get a clipping of it. I have it taped in a vinyl tape but I also took a picture of it when I first picked it. It got scrunched in the tape alittle. But I will add the fresh picked picture. Then I will post it for $500 starting. It would be that big of a number for a cupple reasons.
First, is that I don't want to give it up. (Childhood disappointment fulfilled) and if it's actually giving goodluck to counter the bad. second, would be to protect the curious but poor people. Someone who could shell out $500 for a clover is probably rich enough to afford some tragedies. And third, it would help allot in this hard time.
I will post it under the conditions that this post, or other reposts of this story I do, blow up or go viral. If this is viral then it might be worth it because people would be interested in the clover. Could actually sell. Then I know it's worth putting everything together. If this happens, I will leave an update on here with the link to the posting and where to find it.
What do you guys think? Do you think it's cursed? Or do you think it's actually lucky and helped in the bad times?

I’ve been married 8 years and something snapped. I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to ignore my unhappiness by self medicating with too much alcohol, tuning him out, and fantasizing about other things for a long time. I just returned from a much needed solo trip with old friends where I realized just how bad thing have gotten. I laughed and danced and connected with old friends and realized I haven’t felt like myself in so long. Like I could suddenly breath again .
He’s always negative and talking about mundane things I could care less about, but of course he’s also not a mind reader. I haven’t told him any of how I feel because I’m the worst people pleaser who is terrified of confrontation I’m always worried about making him happy. We’ve picked moved across the country TWICE because I naively thought a change in scenery make things better since he always complained about where he lived or worked. It occured to me not too long ago he never asks me how I’m doing or feeling despite always venting to me about his own problems.
He didn’t get me anything for my 35th birthday last year, I’m not a present person at all but didn’t even do a single special thing, dinner, etc. I can barely look at him since I’ve been home from this trip. I also transgressed terribly and basically initiated and have been carrying on an emotional affair with someone from my past. This has cooled off since I’ve been home much to my dismay but obviously for the best.
My husband has always had a health problem but it has gotten much worse recently, obviously contributing to his negativity and that I do sympathize with. I know he’s scared and want to be there for him. I also love my in laws who are like a second family to me. We have no kids thankfully but have a dog we both love and also have a complicated situation with the house/property we currently live in where selling it will be a very involved project for the both of us. I know I owe him and us honesty but I have no clue where to even begin. I’m questioning whether I’m cut out for marriage at all, and seriously doubting it. Feel sick to my stomach. Any advice SO appreciated.

Originally chronicled here.
I am not the OOP. OOP is u/Lost_Beginning_2824
This was originally posted in TrueOffMyChest
2 updates
(recovered via pushpull)
Original post - February 6th, 2024
1st Update - February 28th, 2024
2nd Update - March 8th, 2024
Trigger warning: mention of domestic violence situation
I’m married to a woman who acts like a teenage girl – February 6th, 2024
My wife behaves like a teenage girl and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
This is just a rant. Curious to know how many full grown adults behave the way my wife does. I’d say out of all of the adult women I know, like friends, relatives, wives of my friends, none of them behave this way unless they keep it a closely guarded secret.
Editing right here to add that my wife is in her 30s, for context.
My wife is always obsessed with somebody, a man or sometimes multiple men at one time. Usually there is one or two main focuses at a time. When I talk obsessed I mean obsessed like a teenage girl or maybe even preteen girl would be. I’ve seen pictures of her bedroom when she was that age and they were literally wallpapers in posters of her favorite guys. That’s totally normal for a 13 year old girl. She still behaves that way as a woman in her 30s. Granted, our bedroom walls aren’t wallpapered in posters but they probably would be if I allowed it.
Her obsessions have ranged from rock stars, actors, non-entertainment industry public figures. It’s like one day she hasn’t even heard of the guy in question and the next day she’s super fan #1 and knows just about everything there is to know about him. She will read and watch everything there is to watch about the man. She will bring him up in every conversation. She will adopt parts of him into her own personality. She will suggest things that make it clear to me that she wants me to adopt characteristics of these men as part of my appearance or personality. She will openly admit to me that she’s masturbated over the guy multiple times in one day.
When she finds a new man to obsess over, she puts the others in her little stable of men who she always has a place for in her heart and in her fantasies, so they never really go away. The new man just takes center stage and becomes the main focus of almost her entire life.
So the current obsession is so strange to me. Never saw this one coming, but leave it to her to always find somebody new to fall in love with. The intensity that she has during these periods - it’s honestly like she falls in love with these men.
I’m laughing so hard just typing this all. Her current obsession is Bret Hart, former pro wrestler. This woman had never watched wrestling before in her life. Always thought that stuff was below her. And now she’s obsessed with this former pro-wrestler. She watched one show about him, for reasons I’m not aware of, and I could tell almost instantly where it was headed. I thought “here we go…” So now the Bret Hart obsession is in full swing. Has she already dropped close to $1000 in vintage Bret Hart shirts on eBay? Of course. Bought all the stickers and magnets and all sorts of other stupid crap she can find? Yep. Does she send me Bret Hart YouTube clips all.day.long when she’s supposed to be working? Yes she does.
So, I better get to work brushing up on my Bret Hart knowledge and tag lines. This is the key to getting laid when it comes to her. I’m used to this by now. It’s just not something that I can easily explain to anyone I know.
I mean, there’s are things I’m a fan of, but she is next level. I can’t think of anyone I know who is her age and acts like this. She was voted most likely to grow up and become a groupie when she was in high school, so this is absolutely nothing new for her. Sigh.
Many are lighthearted in the comments
plastic_Schedule_891
I mean he's the best there is, was and ever will be so that one makes sense at least .
You don’t think I’m hearing that 10 times a day now?
I better start planning that trip to Calgary.
Limerence is mentioned
poopchutethemoon
Yeah my bouts of limerence have been with people I’ve dated but reading that made me realize that I was very much being obsessive and it was totally all consuming. Glad it’s over honestly. Those feelings are exhausting.
Very interesting to hear you say the feelings are exhausting. It’s like a full time job for my wife, so I could see that. She told me she’s at work with her door closed pretending to be working, but she’s really watching Bret Hart videos on YouTube. She can’t even focus on her job.
OOP reveals more of the life he’s signed up for in the comments
get-bread-not-head
You've pretended to act like other men for 20 years?!
Damn dude, I hope you're finding ways to accept it and cope. That sounds rough, having to be someone else to have sex... stay strong king
Nah, I just learn their catchphrases or gain some deep fan knowledge that’ll impress her or maybe perfect a vocal impersonation of them that I can drop at the opportune time. The vocal impersonations work the best as far as making her like me and being like “ok, wanna have sex now?”
another_canoe
But what do you guys actually share *together*? That's not related to the obsession of the season? (I'm not going to even bother asking if she's tried to learn about any of your hobbies/interests).
NGL, this is all pretty grim to me, my man....and I'm someone who loves having a partner who is passionate about things and nerds out.
I fear that you've spent so long with her infatuations steamrolling over your own interests and preferences that you have convinced yourself that getting attention-by-proxy as your main source of validation from your SPOUSE is a healthy way to live.
If I told you that I was big into anime and Japanese RPGs and the only way I get interested in doing it with my actual wife is if she adopts the catch phrases /personality characteristics of my latest "waifu", would you feel some concern for my wife's mental health?
I'm also wondering about this spending....
She’s pretty dismissive of my interests and hobbies. I’ve told her I’d like her to try to pretend to show a little more interest sometimes. I make an effort to show real interest in her stuff and she does not do the same. I’m very into music and I do geek out over guitars and gear and things like that and she couldn’t tell you anything about any of the guitars I own other than “he has a blue one, he has a red one. “ We do love some of the same bands. Of course she wants to fuck the band members and I just want to talk about the chord progression on my favorite guitar tracks, but it’s close enough. We like a lot of the same movies and that sort of thing. We have the same sense of humor and can keep each other laughing for ages. We have a lot of the same views on life and on the world in general.
I don’t know, we just get each other I guess.
I would be concerned about the waifu thing, but I guess in my case she always likes guys who I think are pretty cool anyway. She has good taste, at least. If she has to be obsessing over some other guy constantly at least she does it over guys I can respect on some level.
Regarding the spending, I spend way more than she does. Only difference is it’s not usually fan merch I’m buying. But she tolerate my spending when it comes to stuff like guitar gear. She rolls her eyes and reprimands me but she tolerates it and just knows I won’t stop. I’m the same when it comes to her fan stuff. I get it, she wants the vintage 1993 Bret Hart shirt that costs hundreds…not a modern shirt that just anyone could go online and buy for $25 right now. She wants the cool, rare stuff. I’m the same with my guitars so I guess it’s like we understand each other in some way. I think it’s weird to become a fan of somebody and 2 days later drop thousands on them though. At least my money pit is consistent.
I think we both feel like we’re the only person who will semi understand and tolerate all of this stuff from each other
Not included here, but in several comments, OOP definitely brings up his wife’s looks as a positive in the relationship and he finds her antics at times amusing or even attractive.
1st Update - February 28th, 2024
I recently wrote about my wife suddenly discovering former pro-wrestler Bret “The Hitman” Hart one day after never even knowing of his existence, experienced love at first site, and is now even deeper than love with him then she was a month ago.
Tonight, I experienced a good hour of her sobbing, literal sobs, after watching the Bret Hart A&E biography. “I just love him so much. I love him with all my heart. I don’t want any more bad things to happen to him. Also, I’m very jealous he’s not my husband.”
She also went from not wanting any kids to suddenly wanting a baby so she can name it Bret (a girl or a boy, doesn’t matter…they will be named Bret). And she almost had me convinced, but I blame that on the heat of the moment.
She’s bought all sorts of clothes just like his. My wife now dresses like Bret Hart in and outside of the ring.
The past few days she’s been acting really annoyed with me. Finally I’m like “Wtf am I doing wrong?” I bought you Bret Hart stuff for your birthday! I call you Mrs. Bret Hart now, even though you’re my wife. I even sent you flowers at work from Bret. I mean that was supposed to get me points because she knew they were from me and I was playing into her obsession which she’s now apparently shared with everyone she works with. They’ve bought her a giant Bret Hart wall decal for her office.
Ok, so I did forget our anniversary which was very recently. Totally forgot it. Then again, so did she. She was too busy masturbating over Bret Hart to remember our wedding anniversary. I mean bad husband points for me obviously but all the birthday gifts had to have made up for it. I mean, I even ordered a Bret Hart birthday banner and got her a Bret Hart themed birthday cake as if she were a 7 year old boy in the year 1994.
So why is she acting so annoyed lately? Why does she act like she hates me and can’t stand to even be in the same room as me? She finally admits…I’m not Bret Hart. None of her obsession have ever been this bad. She’s seriously threatening me with divorce now because I’m not Bret Hart! She “just wants a guy like that.” She had to go walk the dog today and cry over it, how much she hates me and wishes she was married to Bret Hart. Oh fuck me you want a guy like your dad because that’s what Bret Hart is like…exactly like her dad, the same look, the same hair, the same damn age.
I told her I think she should get checked out for autism or some other sort of disorder. Her obsessions have never been this bad. She should make an appointment now because the waitlist is long. She just laughed. There’s nothing wrong with her. She just has different taste in men now, according to her.
Some comments
psychick
Therapist here - she needs to see a psychiatrist. This is mental illness to the extreme. Either she goes, or you leave. This is ultimatum territory. And, stop giving into her obsession. It makes it worse.
nualt42
Man, when she threatens divorce, take it. Jump at the chance.
Hell, sit, be a good boy and offer your fucking paw if that’s what it takes to get treated to an exit strategy. Don’t worry about dignity, sounds like you gave that up a long time ago.
She’s even looked up the divorce process for where we live and says we can be amicable about everything. She assures me she’s not looking to take any thing that is rightfully mine. She just wants a clean break.
Sophie3546
I’m surprised he even lasted this long. Calling her “Ms. Bret Hart” …..I can’t even fathom.
Excuse me, it’s MRS Bret Hart, not Ms.
NEW UPDATE - March 8th, 2024
Hi, you might remember me as the guy whose wife was obsessed with JFK (35th President of the United States), then experienced a world wind romance with former WWF pro-wrestler Bret Hart (the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be), but now she’s met a new man. I thought the Bret Hart obsession was the worst one yet. Never has she threatened divorce or told me she hated me because I wasn’t the object of her desire. Luckily, that was a relatively quick love affair for her. 3-4 months is a short run for her and one of her men. But I should be careful what I wish for.
This new one is the first time I’ve felt that I should maybe, just possibly, feel legitimately scared. Her newly developing obsession is Patrick Bateman. Yep, the character from American Psycho. Specifically, the movie version played by Christian Bale.
It’s not like she’s just met the guy. She’s seen the movie before but it doesn’t appear that they hit it off initially. Now, she’s suddenly started making constant reference to him. Bret is gone and now it’s just Patrick Bateman and maniacal laughter and purchasing all of the items in his skin care routine. I’d like to see her do 1000 crunches though. That’ll be the day.
She has always admitted to living the 80s preppy/yuppie look. She loves assholes. Assholes are a weakness for her. Psychopaths? Hmm…that’s a new one, unless you count the time she was in love with the Menendez Brothers years ago. God, the pastel Ralph Lauren sweaters she used to try to make me wear. Pastels are just not my shades.
Now, there was a time many years ago where I did have to hide all the knives in our home. I was legitimately scared that she was going to murder me. I forget what she was upset about now. I am, after all, her type - an asshole. I did something that bothered her and she ran for the knives. I had to hide them and then lock myself in a bedroom because she was literally chasing me. That was before she decided that she’d be the female Patrick Bateman. Granted, she says “only mean in the looks and snob department-nothing else.”
She’s trying to determine what the female equivalent to a Patrick Bateman hairstyle would be right now. I’m just worried about the bank account with this obsession. The amount she’ll spend on business cards alone.
Comments
lemonade_sparkle
Your wife is severely mentally ill, and needs help quickly.
Is there no chance of persuading her to get help?
If not, what preparations have you made to leave her?
I’m a strange way, I think these obsessions are what keep her sane.
Her getting help is funny though. It’s not going to happen. Sure I’ve tried to persuade her to see a therapist but she just won’t.
ctIaTErA
I probably shouldn’t be laughing as hard as I am right now. This is truly bizarre. Does she narrate her morning routine in the mirror each day now?
But in all seriousness, she’s chased you with a knife? Thats far more concerning than any of the obsessions with these men, and yes I did read the post about the wrestler. I thought it was just very quirky behavior before, but she seems truly unhinged now.
It was years ago. Like 10+ years ago. I’m much stronger than her so it’s not hard to hold her down if need be.
I AM NOT OOP
NO BRIGADING, NO HARASSMENT

Our upstairs neighbors are incredibly loud, but our lease has a clause stating that all units must be covered 80% with rugs (our neighbors have zero rugs). My boyfriend wants to email our landlord a much more extensive and aggressive message about this, but I'd prefer to send a shorter, sweeter note. Can any landlords please tell me how you would receive each of these messages? I really don't want to have a bad relationship with my landlord!
My message:
"Hi (Landlord),
Hope you’re doing well! Would it be possible to get some thick rugs for the upstairs tenants? With four adults and a few kids living up there, it can get pretty boisterous. We chatted with them about maybe putting down some rugs and they said they wouldn’t mind rugs but they don’t want to pay for them since they are moving in two months. Would love to work together on a solution!"
Boyfriend's message:
"Hi (Landlord),
I didn’t want to bother you about this, but I do have an issue that I need to bring up. I hope you can help with this.
As you know, the neighbors upstairs have a few children and at least 4 adults living there, so while I believe they are trying their best to stay quiet not to disturb us, it is difficult to do so with so many people and with a ceiling so lacking in insulation.
Every footstep, toy dropped, furniture pushed, etc. is extremely loud for us. I can even hear their conversations clearly & we find the need to whisper in our house at night to have privacy. I haven’t slept past 7:30AM a single day since moving in since it sounds like they are hammering nails in their room the moment they wake up. I have loud white noise (air purifier) running and now wear foam earplugs every night & still, I am woken up by it.
I have attempted to resolve this issue myself, having spoken to them several times about getting rugs. They have even come down to ask me to turn down music that is hardly playing at half volume (which I play to cover up their constant walking sounds), further demonstrating how poor the insulation is.
They unfortunately said that they will not buy rugs, but suggested I ask you to buy them rugs, agreeing to put them down if you purchased them. And while that is a potential temporary solution, I’m concerned that it won’t be enough.
Today, there was a disturbance so loud above one of the bedrooms (louder even than the disturbance that made you jump and exclaim that it scared you while you were looking at the heating unit about 2 weeks ago), that it shook the walls and ceiling (a common occurrence here). This time it actually managed to crack the glass in the ceiling lighting fixture (which I assume must have been on its way out anyways for shaking to crack it, but I’m not sure, see picture attached). Now I am concerned further that this is not only an unlivable situation, but that other glass fixtures could crack and create a potential safety hazard for ourselves and especially our dog.
The neighbors upstairs say they are moving out in 2 months, and so this seems to present an opportunity that I have the following inquiries about:
1) Do you have any plans to take advantage of the time in between tenants to make necessary modifications to the space to improve the noise isolation to a livable standard? My understanding is that the cost of adding ceiling insulation is just a few thousand dollars (perhaps around 5-6K including labor), & the process isn’t long. Some techniques don’t even include removing the ceiling drywall, just adding about an inch of insulation and a second layer of drywall underneath, so that could be quick.
2) If not, what steps will you take? E.g. Will you inform the next tenants before signing that they must cover all the floors in thick rugs (half an inch rug pads under a half an inch rug seems necessary in this case) because the sound isolation is so poor? It is in their and our best interest that they know what they are signing up for before signing a lease— & while it is too late for us, it isn’t for the next tenant. "

We have been together 5 years and live together for 3 and a half. I don’t care he like sports but when he talks about it I can’t help but zone out and he knows I’m not listening. I’ve tried to listen but don’t know what he’s talking about. He says I roll my eyes when he brings up football, the lottery, etc. I just don’t think it’s a big deal that I don’t have an interest in these subjects but I understand it makes him happy.
When I talk about things I like that I know he doesn’t care for I know he doesn’t need to listen and I keep it brief. Yet he insists on mansplaining about football. Trying to get me to understand when I clearly don’t want to and that’s okay. Unless I’m out of line.
He’s upset that I don’t care about the lottery but insists that if he wins, I’ll suddenly care because I’ll want the money. It’s hypothetical!! He says I don’t support him because I don’t think he’s going to win, that I hate the things he likes, and he’s rather me tell him to stop talking. I told him I’ll try but he rambles about a lot of other things too and it’s not that I don’t care, I just can’t pay attention sometimes.
I love him and support him in every other thing, grocery shopping, cook, laundry, take care of the dogs, all while working. He helps out a lot especially if I ask him to pick up slack. Everything else is pretty much great. But we always come back to fighting about my attitude, my eye rolls that I don’t even realize I’m doing.
How do I settle this argument other than telling him I’ll try to tell him I’m not in the headspace to hear about this right now? Or telling him I’m tired and having a hard time concentrating? Or telling him I’m sorry it’s hard for me to follow this conversation because I’m not interested in it?