Female reporter gets angry and chases

My partner and I started exploring the credit card game a few months ago, and I recently stumbled across the Bilt Mastercard in my research. Right now we're paying around $2000/month on rent, and both of us feel like we could get a lot of use out of this card alongside our current credit card ecosystems (he has the Chase Trifecta configured with the Freedom Flex, Freedom Unlimited, and Sapphire Reserve cards. I have the C1 Duo with the Venture X and Savor cards).
Both of us are young professionals starting out in our fields, so we'll probably still be renting for the next year or two to save for later. But I have a habit of extrapolating short term decisions into long term trajectories, and our ultimate plan is to finally buy a house together. I've heard mixed things online about whether Bilt cards could work for a mortgage or not, and I want to get more information before committing to such a massive decision with long-term consequences when conditions change.
Is it possible to continue using a Bilt Mastercard for paying and earning points on a mortgage the same way we would be earning points for rent? And if not, what are some extended-life strategies for optimizing the use of a Bilt card alongside our ecosystems when I can no longer use it for paying rent? (preferably without closing the card, I like my credit score)

Your answer was...
"That is not true."
Last week, I caved to my own insecurities and made sure to remind you that you are cared for. You see, people wired with our particular kind of neurospicy will often either lack emotional permanence, or maturity, or suspect people are running around with ulterior motives.
You did question why I did that. I did that because, despite the infrequency of our communications these days... I still feel you. Your reply also included how very not ok you are currently - which just proves that I can feel you just the same as always. I wish I could have just sent you "I know" and show you the letter I had written the night before. I'm still here, just as I have always been... and I do understand better than you think. Chaos fairy almost went to the beautiful place nearest you this morning, just to be a little bit closer, and to watch the sunrise surrounded by beauty. You also apologized in that text. I don't need you to apologize, I need you to remember that if its too dark in your head, I'm waiting at the top of that pit of darkness with the rope.
Yeah, I want to hang out. We don't even have to process what you are going through if you don't want to. We can be ridiculous and fun. I will protest only on the inside that....you will have to process the thoughts, you will have to feel the feelings, ALL OF THEM. Ignoring them and stuffing them down does not make them cease to exist. I know this from experience. It will be hard, but I'm only here to be the kind of friend you need to keep up your healing journey. Love is patient, love is kind... you know? I'm here, and will remain here. I will continue to reach out now and then, as you do need consistency, and I genuinely want to because you are an absolute treasure of a human being. I'm not like the others. I'm not going to chase, but I'm certainly not leaving - I'm meant to be a good friend, and good friends do not leave when things get tough. They stand by your side as a support. ❤️

CW: Mention of self-h, a-bus
A close colleague is on administrative leave while under investigation over claims made directly after reprimanding a student for disruption and violating the school honor code. Some claims have merit (self-h*rm comments, mention of firearms ownership as a hunter), and others baseless (inappropriate comments about female students' appearances, comments threatening harm upon students). He's had a visibly rough second semester due to outside factors, involving personal deaths and dealing with abuses at home, and has since let his classroom management deteriorate.
Unfortunately, I've seen how a majority of his students use his weakened state as an opportunity to walk all over him; they violating district policies, disrespect him, and now it's come to a head. Last week, he decided to put his foot down for the first time in the semester, and told two girls (habitual problem-starters and EXTREMELY pampered), informing them that he would change their seats if they continued to talk over him. The worst of the two was also caught that day plagiarizing one of his assignments and reprimanded, though not reported as he felt it appropriate to let her off with a warning.
The next day, Friday, he was called to the office before his 3rd block classes. He said his AP was approached by two girls who reported feeling uncomfortable due to things he would say in class, such as overshare his mental state through making jabs at self-h*rming himself (which I've heard him do in the workroom, as well, the sort of "this makes me wanna just _____" comments not unusual to hear as a response to high stress and depression), to which he said his AP (and mine, she's incredibly supportive of teachers, though hopefully not just vocally) was sympathetic. She recommended he set up an appointment with the employee assistance program and possibly seek counseling, to which he agreed. The next items regarded a story he often shares about meeting his neighbor through hunting weapons (we live in a sub-rural area where hunting is a prolific topic), supposedly threatening to "bash a kid's head into a brick wall" in response to the plagiarism earlier mentioned, when he admitted he said he said that about his own head, something he's said a lot before. Lastly, he was accused of making inappropriate comments regarding female students' appearances, which no one can substantiate, and it seems this was featured because "male teacher = g-word" seems like a free space to claim.
He's rightfully freaked out, as am I, because we both teach very similarly and with the same style, with a sort of "big brother" vibe that's never been a problem, but rather very appreciated by both parents and students alike. He did mention how the admin made a big point about "saying things which could get misconstrued", but he said she was very stern but understanding in her demeanor, even sharing her experience in mourning and still showing up for school as a way to cope. He also said she talked extensively about having "healthy teachers in the classroom", which I believe is code for "we're going to make sure you're just in mourning and not actually going to do anything permanent". We're both on our fourth year of teaching, and our state uses the "continuing contract" system, so we're both unsure how tenure works or if there's protections at all in this state.
Does he have cause to worry for his livelihood, or is this a common, albeit brutal, occurrence for teachers today? I don't think he's registered with the state representation (we're in Virginia), as most of us newer teachers still don't have much wiggle room to afford many biweekly deductions, but I'm nervously optimistic. I'm asking this for my benefit as well, as we teach very similarly to one another, and the last thing I want is for a Children of the Corn situation to arise after.... well, trying to maintain classroom order in any way. Needless to say, this alone is taking the wind out of my sails in regards to continuing in this field, which I loved before this year, and I know for a fact he's having second thoughts, more so, probably.
Tl;dr: Colleague on continuing contract is on administrative leave pending an investigation due to comments made after he reprimanded two students for disruption and honor code violation. Seems retaliatory, though he and I are worried for his future in teaching.

So i have a crush on this guy for two years now. We’ve had our share of cute moments and everything until he tells me he has a girlfriend [who is not official😭 and in another city]
But recently, we got really close. Late night calls, (aankh micholi lol), scooter rides everything. But mid way, we got distant bc i felt he is manipulating me to get LUNCH? (So that he saves money for gods sake) Now he has given a fair share of statements to defend himself including that he goes to lunch with me for spending time but once i overheard him saying he goes out with people for lunch and not people.
At this stage, I’m literally questioning my choice and trying to get over him. He gets really comfortable with girls. Now im not being the crazy ass girl who has a problem with guys having female friends but the way he gets comfortable with every? girl and girls too get really charmed by him or something. Now i realise for myself bc i have feelings for him but what about others? And then i still question if be is a bad guy or not. Please help me guys?

My family, grandparents looked after everyone and sacrificed so much but their own children ended up neglected. They suffered enormously but still continuing the family tradition of being kind and generous too. But I am not able to understand what made them to resent looking after me. They didn't treat me bad, but still I feel sad and don't know if I am even right or wrong. Not only extended families, but their extended families too were welcome to be looked after without any thoughts regarding the burden my family had to shoulder but somehow I was made to feel like that. My grandma was a good cook and with meager earning of my grandpa nearly 25 people would eat food in a day. Mind you no relatives gave anything for this though I still hear them cursing and badmouthing my family a lot.
For god's sake, I am not an extended family member but their own. Remember my grandma feeling like the sky had fallen down when her sister's granddaughter stayed in an hostel for studies and feeling very miserable and sorry for her parents. She tried to force them to make her stay in our house instead of staying alone somewhere when we are a family. It was not a problem for her, but for me. I was looking after the house and taking care of grandparents and this meant more work. That time I was very hurt...
Everyone were fed well. No one went hungry at all. Many times even to this day relatives come at breakfast lunch or evening time to save money and this is so much burdensome to me. My aunt happily does but also gets madly angry with me for not getting to work like her. Even friends of my family members were treated well. They will come to have a nice time of their lives while I hardly could ever get out of the house and enjoy. Also I never brought my friends often. I have grown up hearing financial problems and the tense periods with everyone angry and all, and I am having problems with understanding how money works.
But I don't know if I should be happy and proud with that or sad and angry?
I don't know how to set boundaries because everyone shared everything, clothes, food, etc. I am called out or humiliated by my relatives for nothing significant and this hurts.

Baby Reindeer on Netflix brought back a lot of trauma I had blocked out of my head.
Just watched the episode where Donny gets continuously SA'd while high on drugs. I felt so unsettled and couldn't stop thinking back to the first time I ever got high (Marijuana) when I was 17. My boyfriend was 20 at the time and I took some edibles that he had given me and he took some too, but he said he wasn't really feeling it. It hit me really hard and I had a panic attack, and at first he really tried to take care of me, and nothing was working to make me feel better.
Eventually he told me he was horny, and was trying to get me to have sex with him, even after I vehemently told him no and that I wasn't feeling good. He suggested that I take a shower to help try and sober me up, and I said I couldn't stand up on my own, so he helped me shower. Afterwards, I went back to lay in his bed and eventually he ended up on top of me and was forcing me to touch him while he touched me. I remember being really out of it and just letting it happen, because after all, he was my boyfriend and we had sex all the time, but afterwards I think I said something like "you took advantage of me" and he stayed silent.
I was with him for 3 more years after this, and never thought anything of it. He tried this again on another occasion and I remember completely blocking him out and telling him no, I am not in the mood and I will not be doing anything with him and he just gave me the cold shoulder and tried to make me feel guilty about denying him.
Watching this now really made me realize that what happened wasn't consenual and it's tearing me apart that I just never thought twice about it. He was always emotionally abusive and manipulative, and got physical with me on few occasions. I was stuck, and the fact that I just thought it was normal is so, so fucked up. I'm really looking back at my younger self and wanting to apologize to her for not realizing sooner. She didn't deserve any of that.
The police officer tells Donny "why didn't you report it sooner?" And it just hit so close to home. It's like a frog in a pot of water slowly coming to a boil; you don't realize how bad it is until it's too late.

My ex of 6 years broke up with me last week Friday very randomly and completely blindsided me. They moved out that night and took most of their clothes but still have a lot of things here and there at my place. When they dumped me, they said “can we talk?” But then just told me, “I wanna breakup” if didn’t feel like a conversation, more like he has news to share. All I said was “I didn’t expect this I’m so shocked and idk what to say… you aren’t asking me to talk or work through some of your concerns you are just telling me how you feel so all I can do is accept and appreciate your honesty.”
They left after that and I stepped out not wanting to breakdown and sob while they were there. That first night I called at night because hours later I wanted to ask all the questions, problem solve, I was confused and felt angry and hurt that they held this for a couple of weeks instead of trying to communicate with me. They didn’t answer cause it was late but the next day when they reached out just wondering if I had called, I said yes but nvm because I just wanted to respect his choice even if it was hard for me.
The week goes by and they reach out Wednesday to “see how I’m doing “ through text. They called and I didn’t answer. I didn’t respond cause I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I was just gonna explode all my feelings in a crazy text if I tried to articulate my thoughts and feelings or cry and beg them not to walk out on us on the phone.
Friday night they text again, saying they just wanna check-in and see how I’m doing, they hope I’m taking care of myself and they say they are off the next two days and to let them know if they can call me to see how I’m doing.
The problem is I never wanted to breakup, if I had a choice, I would stare every issue in the face and try to do the work on my end that was necessary to heal/communicate.
I don’t get it why is my ex reaching out like this acting concerned after the fact they broke up with me? They didn’t bother asking or being concerned the last 2 weeks of the relationship so now that I’m not his to worry about why is he trying to do the overtime? My ex was never the best at clear communication, they are avoidant and I am closer to anxious (just a bit more secure) I just feel like what can I say anymore? It’s already over and and although the message behind the text is one of “care and concern” it feels incredibly selfish and insensitive, part of me feels like they are just trying to satisfy their needs still (framed as thinking about me) when it’s probably more about assuaging their guilt. TL:dr : Why is my ex reaching out to “check-in” a week after he broke up with me?

Many web hosting providers offer normal web hosting plans as well as WordPress hosting plans, which can both be used to host a WordPress site. So, why would you choose a more expensive WordPress hosting plan when a cheaper shared hosting plan will do?
The answer varies depending on the specific provider you're considering and the features they offer.
In general, the biggest advantage of WordPress-optimized hosting over normal web hosting is the increased server resources and performance. Things like more memory, CPU power, concurrent connections, and NVMe SSD storage can make a big difference in performance and loading speed.
WordPress hosting usually has more advanced caching systems than shared web hosting, which also leads to improved speed.
Better security is another advantage you get with many WordPress hosting services. This can include malware scanning, automated backups, automated updates, custom firewall, and other security enhancements.
But again, it varies from one provider to another. You can find normal web hosting services that include all/most of the features mentioned above.
You have to consider the exact specs and features included, your site's requirements, and your budget in order to make the right choice for you.
Personally, I usually use regular web hosting for my new WordPress sites, and more advanced WordPress hosting for established websites that receive substantial traffic.

It’s been a year and a half since my ex-fiancé broke things off with me 4 months before our wedding. I’m still so angry with him. It’s emotionally and mentally exhausting. I find it hard to let anyone get close to me anymore. I’m in a constant state of unrest. I still think about him constantly, but not in a reminiscent and fond way. My thoughts are almost always hateful. I have been harboring so much resentment towards him because I still feel so betrayed by the entire ordeal. He wants to meet next month to talk about things, but I just can’t bring myself to give him a second of my time. Would meeting with him help me to forgive and move on? Is there a way for me to forgive and move on without ever speaking to him again? Mind you, we have not seen each other in person since the breakup. I am afraid of what seeing him may do to me mentally.

I want genuine answers and I'm open to criticism.
My (23f) boyfriend (22m) and I were having a conversation about a group of girls that hang around him at his college that make me uncomfortable. In the middle of this discussion, where our emotions were both pretty high, he says "let me show you something" and sends me a video he had taken from the GoPro on his motorcycle helmet.
For context, he just got this motorcycle and it's been his whole world the last few weeks. He's been riding it nonstop and gets very excited when people acknowledge it. In the video, he stops at the red light of a busy intersection. In the car next to him is a group of three teenage girls that start waving at him. He revs his engine to say hi back, they roll down the window and ask for a fist bump. He fists bumps them, they say "You're so cool" and he waves and revs at them again. As the light turns green and they start driving away, the girls yell "YOU'RE SO HOT" and my boyfriend starts giggling.
I ask him why he's showing me this video in the middle of this convo, and he asks if it makes me jealous. I tell him that I might feel a tinge of jealousy under normal pretenses but I wouldn't be upset with him, he can't dictate what a bunch of teen girls say to him & I don't get his point. To paraphrase, he basically says that he wants a girlfriend that would find that video "cool" or laugh about it with him instead of get jealous. That my jealousy is not normal or healthy, and he can't even share that "cool moment" with his girlfriend.
Under normal pretenses, I wouldn't have even been upset. HOWEVER, this isn't normal pretenses because he dropped this video during our convo about some of his female friends at college that make me uncomfortable. It felt like he was trying to "gotcha" me into being like SEE - GIRLS WANTS ME AND UR NOT CHILL ABOUT IT! YOU HAVE JEALOUSY ISSUES! He ALSO brought up that a girl that flirted with him at work once connected with him on linkedin, then waited for me to give him some blow up reaction (which didn't come).
I wont act like I'm perfect either, I have been jealous in the past and I set the tone at the beginning of the relationship, I'm not dealing with girl drama so keep it out of our relationship. I'm not a chill girlfriend at all. But I felt weird about using that video as a gotcha moment. What are your thoughts about jealousy and this conversation? Do people usually brush stuff like this off?

If you're feeling offended already from this post, I highly suggest you click off and move on with your life.
So there’s this online trend going on right now (it's sort of dying off I think, I could be wrong) where people are asking women if they’d rather be stuck alone in the forest with either a random man or a random bear.
I’ll say it again. Would these women rather be stuck ALONE in the forest with a random man or a bear? Lots of the women are picking a bear. And I also picked the bear. I asked my mom, my aunt, and my dad this question. They all said bear. And here’s why *I* personally chose to pick the bear.
First of all, it’s because God gave me permission. I’m a Christian. Literally, in the Bible, in Proverbs 17:2, it says, “It is safer to meet a bear robbed of her cubs than to confront a fool caught in foolishness” (NLT version). Even God is saying I should pick the bear. If God tells me I’m allowed to do or pick something, trust and believe I’m gonna take it.
Secondly, let’s say that Bibilicality or Christianity had nothing to do with this conversation. I’d still pick the bear and here’s why. Humans in general are completely unpredictable. Yes, a human is smart. Yes, a human could help you survive. But that’s the scary thing. Humans are incredibly freaking smart. So if that person–not just a man—wishes to kill me, abuse me, or whatever—they’re gonna find the best way to do it.
Even then, I’d rather be stuck in the woods with another woman because statistically, women commit violent crimes significantly less than men do. I’m sorry, that’s just the truth. That’s not to say that women aren’t capable of committing crimes either and there’s a chance that the rate women commit crimes is higher than we know—there’s still a consistent pattern in who predominantly commits the overwhelming majority of the crime—men.
Literally, according to the United States Sentencing Commission, women accounted for only 13.5% of crime in the U.S. during 2022 and even then, the majority of the time, those women were being arrested for drug related offenses. Not rape, not kidnapping, not sex trafficking, not murder—DRUGS. And the craziest part is that the number of women committing those crimes had not changed much at ALL during the years between 2013-2022.
If that’s still not enough for you, according to the Bureau of Prisons (BOP – an official site from the U.S. government), women only make up 6.8% of inmates in prisons, whereas men make up 93.2%. Try to discredit this all you want but at the end of the day, men are MUCH more likely to commit crimes than women. Which, by association, would also mean that women are less likely to commit VIOLENT crimes than men are.
So yeah, pardon me if I’m gonna be scared crapless to be completely alone in the woods by myself with a man I do not KNOW. If that’s the situation I’m in—where I’m completely vulnerable, by MYSELF, and civilization isn’t around because I’m STUCK in the forest—what incentive does that man have to be a good person to me (especially considering that no other witnesses are around)? HE HAS NONE.
Note that us women picking the bear is not a man-hater thing. I do not hate men as a whole. But I am cautious of men. I have men in my life that I love and admire like my father, my brothers, and my cousins. If I was plopped in the woods with any of them, I would be 100% fine with it. But if you’re seriously asking me to be stuck ALONE by myself with a random guy, I may as well be playing Russian roulette with my life. A bear is predictable. Humans are not. I am built like a string bean, I cannot fight. So if a man chooses to cripple me for whatever reason, I’m done for.
When it comes to women picking the bear, it’s not necessarily us thinking that the bear is inherently ‘safer.’ We know the bear could eat us. All we’re doing is choosing which worst-possible outcome we’d rather deal with should that worst-possible situation show up. The worst thing a bear can do is kill you. You wanna see the worst a man can do? Search up the Junko Furuta case and then get back to me. Even then, there's probably some sicko who managed to rival THAT.
Don’t even try to act obtuse on the subject, boys. Because I know for a fact that when y’all have daughters, wives, girlfriends, cousins, sisters, etc—and they’re out somewhere late at night, you tell them, “Get home safe.” Safe from what? A bear? (LOL)
You guys know full well how dangerous other men are. That’s why you tell the women in your life not to wear certain stuff. Not to go out late at night. Not to go anywhere alone. Because you know full and dang well that other men are flipping crazy and I’m tired of being gaslit from you guys wanting to play dumb to suit your narrative.
The fact you guys are THIS pressed about a HYPOTHETICAL situation, insulting us and whatnot, is only proving our point. You are the exact type of man we wouldn’t wanna be in the woods with.
If a bear attacks us, it’s not doing it out of malice. It’s doing it because it sees the woman as a threat. If it’s a female bear attacking you, it’s because you were too close to her babies. If it’s a male bear attacking you, he’s most likely hungry. With men (or humans in general), you cannot predict them. There’s actually MORE protocols and steps you can take to avoid or prevent a bear attack. But there is absolutely NOTHING you can do in this situation to prevent the other human from wanting to harm you—especially if they’ve already chosen to do so.
If you’re a dude and still pissed off that we chose the bear, I hope God gives you more empathy when it comes to women and their struggles. Maybe then you’ll understand the reason why God ALSO says we should pick the bear.
Peace.

(Note: I still like the Puzzlevision Movie and the new episode)
I have some very big complaints for the Dora the Explorer episode. One of them being, why would you make an episode with a character who died a couple of weeks ago? How did Mario just randomly find him in a trash can? In the movie, Mr Puzzles gets kicked super far so its not like Mario will find it by himself. Plus, at that point in time, Mr. Puzzles is still dead. As an example, when Zero died he didnt just show up again in 3 weeks.
Another critique is that, why does Mario just forget about Mr. Puzzles? He was chasing him and trying to murder him in the movie. Plus, Mario (In my opinion) would have just left a broken TV in the trash. And why would Luigi, Bob and Boopkins be in the episode? They werent captured by Mr. Puzzles only SMG4 and Mario.
Thank you for coming to my TedTalk
https://preview.redd.it/9b61r3254e1d1.jpg?width=1440&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=58aa924351dac4c0ffb0527e3cf6cd6c4aa7ff8b

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What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.

Ok, I am officially freaking out. I am a female. I passed a 4mm stone on April 8th, ended in the ER, the CT scan showed another 4mm stone on my kidney. Dr. Stated that I could just leave it there or he could schedule a Cytoscope with Left Uroscopy, laser and possible stent (I did not care for this dr, lack of empathy and he seemed on a rush to get out every time I visited him). So, I changed to my previous Dr who did a liptotrepsy, and I am scheduled for the procedure on May 22nd, but now I’m scared. Should I just wait and pass it on my own? I travel a lot for work, so my reasoning to have this done is to go ahead and get it removed as I am not sure when it would pass. Any additional advice would be appreciated.
Thank you!

I’ve been applying for work for 6 months nonstop and have only had a few interviews with no luck landing a job. I’ve worked in technology for 14 years and recently ended up in the hospital for a month losing my well paying job. I’m a believer but am starting to doubt my faith because of severe depression setting in. I have to be out of my house this coming month and have no idea how I’m going to downsize to nothing.
Please pray for me, I’m not on drugs and got off the system at 15 working 2 jobs, I e always supported my kid and now I’m facing us being on the street and legal issues if I can’t get everything out of my house. My credit lines I paid off have been shut down because I’m using my cash to keep a roof over our head. With nowhere to go and being two females I’m terrified. I feel frozen in fear and find it hard to get out of bed other than applying for jobs and I lost my network of peers and friends from not working and feeling less than.
Someone give me hope, i feel like we just got a death sentence or worse … shelters are overcrowded and with the people in them being on drugs or the street a long time it scares me about the abuse and assault…is anyone else in the situation able to offer advice please pray I need all the help I can’t get

Just live life the best way you can, I’ll talk from personal experience.
My mom always wanted me to have a family, get an average income job (doctor lawyer you name it), and have kids.
But the truth is, those are only ideal for the average person, and since I am not the average person, I know I can’t have these to the extent neurotypicals have it.
I never understood this analogy of “we are normal just like everyone else” no we aren’t, well we can try to be normal but it seems like it’ll only cause infinite amount of suffering in your life, trying to chase a dream that you can never achieve.
I’m not saying you shouldn’t live an average life, you can live however you want to, I guess that’s what makes us like everyone else.

Hi. Sorry for the rant I just really need some support today, I've nobody in real life that I can talk to about this. I'm aroace and usually it doesn't impact my life much, I almost forget about it in a way since the absense of those attractions is normal to me. However lately my closest friend has been talking a lot about somebody she had crush on and trying to set up scenarios where she can talk to him. Of course I want to know what's happening in my friends life, and I'm happy for her, but romance repulsion has been hitting me hard recently, and I sometimes find it hard to listen to. I seem to be fine when my friends are actually in relationships, but I really struggle with the concept of crushes, watching people and trying to find out about them to ask them out. It just confuses me so much and heightens my isolation. I am in no way upset with her, only with myself. I dont hate being aromantic but I hate that I can't provide my friends with the fun relationship banter everyone around me exchanges. It just so meaningless to me. Of course I express that I'm happy for her and listen, but it makes me feel really dehumanised. I feel so alone and angry with myself. I guess I just need a little bit of reassurance. Thank you if you read this, I just needed to get the words out 💚

What’s the best golf book for beginners to learn the game ? I have just started and I am happy to report that I am starting to get addicted.

I found a great place but when they sent me the lease, I found some things that seem like red flags. I have only lived in one other place in NYC before and it was a very well-kept condo building, so I'm nervous to get into a potential slumlord situation. I'll paste the terms I find suspicious below, would love any and all input if this is standard stuff or predatory!
-Hot water not included in rent. They have individual water heaters in the unit so maybe they're part of electric but it says I'll be paying for electric myself. Could hot water be super expensive/run out easily if gotten from in unit tanks vs building boiler? The building also has two open low pressure boiler violations (failure to file)
-Normal wear and tear NOT included in repair costs and can be deducted from security deposit??
-I'll be paying electric to tenant because account is in their name- Is this normal? I worry about not seeing the bill directly and them overcharging me
-Tenant responsible for any extermination fees caused by tenant- but what about issues not caused by me? Are landlord req by law to provide extermination services? They charge for it on last page too, actual fees + $25 (see attached photo)
-Landlord not required to renew the lease, but I think this building is rent controlled and I thought they had to renew? Also, are they required to show me rent price history so I can make sure they're not charging me above the rent controlled amount?
-Says they can show the unit to new tenants at ANY time and can enter into a new lease with other people DURING my lease?? "Tenant acknowledges and agrees that the Landlord has expressly reserved the right to a) renew this Lease; b) show the Premises at any time to prospective new tenants; c) enter into a lease with new tenants at any time during the term of this Lease upon reasonable advance notice to the Tenant. Tenant waives any and all legal limitations or restrictions on the period of time in which or the manner by which Landlord may perform any of the activities in (a), (b) or (c), above"
-"The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this Lease shall in no way affect the validity or enforceability of this entire Lease or any other provision."
-"In the event of a legal dispute between the Parties, each party waives the right to demand a trial by Jury."
-Not in the lease, but noticed on HPD they haven't filed a bed bug report in 2 years....