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Gingerbread Cake with Salted Caramel Buttercream is a delightful dessert that combines the warm, spicy flavors of gingerbread with the rich sweetness of salted caramel. It’s a perfect treat for the holiday season or any time you’re craving a cozy and indulgent dessert. Here’s how to make it:
Ingredients:
For the Gingerbread Cake:
2 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 tablespoon ground ginger 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened 1/2 cup granulated sugar 1/2 cup molasses 2 large eggs 1 cup buttermilk For the Salted Caramel Buttercream:
1 cup unsalted butter, softened 2 cups powdered sugar 1/2 cup salted caramel sauce (store-bought or homemade) 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Pinch of salt Instructions:
Preheat the Oven: Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease and flour two 9-inch round cake pans or line them with parchment paper for easy removal. Make the Gingerbread Cake: In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, ground ginger, cinnamon, and cloves until well combined. Cream Butter and Sugar: In a large mixing bowl, cream together the softened butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Add Molasses and Eggs: Beat in the molasses until well combined. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Alternate Dry Ingredients and Buttermilk: Gradually add the dry ingredients to the creamed mixture, alternating with the buttermilk. Begin and end with the dry ingredients, mixing until just combined after each addition. Divide and Bake: Divide the batter evenly between the prepared cake pans. Smooth the tops with a spatula. Bake in the preheated oven for 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cakes comes out clean. Cool the Cakes: Remove the cakes from the oven and let them cool in the pans for 10 minutes. Then, transfer them to a wire rack to cool completely. Make the Salted Caramel Buttercream: In a large mixing bowl, beat the softened butter until creamy. Gradually add the powdered sugar, beating until smooth and fluffy. Beat in the salted caramel sauce, vanilla extract, and a pinch of salt until well combined and creamy. Assemble the Cake: Once the cakes are completely cooled, place one cake layer on a serving plate or cake stand. Spread a layer of salted caramel buttercream evenly over the top. Place the second cake layer on top and frost the top and sides of the cake with the remaining buttercream. Decorate (Optional): Drizzle additional salted caramel sauce over the top of the cake for a decorative touch. You can also garnish with gingerbread cookies or a sprinkle of ground cinnamon if desired. Slice and Serve: Use a sharp knife to slice the cake into servings. Serve and enjoy the rich and flavorful combination of gingerbread and salted caramel! Tips:
To ensure a tender and moist cake, be careful not to overmix the batter once the dry ingredients are added. If you prefer a stronger ginger flavor, you can increase the amount of ground ginger in the cake batter. For a more pronounced salted caramel flavor, you can add additional salted caramel sauce to the buttercream frosting. Store any leftover cake in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3-4 days. Conclusion: Gingerbread Cake with Salted Caramel Buttercream is a deliciously festive dessert that’s perfect for the holiday season or any special occasion. With its moist and flavorful gingerbread cake layers paired with creamy salted caramel buttercream, it’s sure to be a crowd-pleaser. Enjoy the comforting and indulgent flavors of this delightful cake!

I apologize for the length and incoherence of this post in advance.
I just want to vent a bit about some anxiety I’m having. For the sake of brevity, MF = my fiancé/partner, WP = our wedding planner.
For some background context, MF is American and lives in the U.S. and I am not American and live in my home country. Our wedding is going to take place in the U.S. about a year from now on MF’s family’s property. MF lives one state over (a five hour drive) from where our wedding will take place so neither of us are currently local to the area and we both have pretty demanding jobs which is why we felt it was important for us to hire a wedding planner to help us plan our wedding.
We hired WP earlier this year and in the beginning, I was really excited to work with her. She’s really sweet, we got a good vibe off of her, we really liked her style and approach to weddings, and she specializes in events in the specific area we’re getting married in. After our initial meeting, MF and I decided to go ahead and pay for her full service package. Her full service package includes things like monthly planning meetings/check-ins, putting together a detailed budget breakdown based on how much we’re willing to spend and our priorities, building us a wedding website, event and invite, and of course, vendor sourcing.
In the beginning, things seemed to be going fine but over the past three months, her communication has dwindled and I’m getting worried about whether I can trust her to get things done.
For all of our meetings, except our initial consultation, she has forgotten to send us a Zoom link until one or two minutes before or after our meeting was supposed to start. This would be inconsequential if I didn’t have to remind her every time we have a meeting. We’ve been meeting with her since the beginning of this year and in every monthly meeting, she has been asking us the exact same questions about our vision which makes me feel like she’s not fully paying attention.
During our last meeting in April, she said she would be sending us a list of potential vendors but that it would take one to two weeks for her to do it and then we’d go over them and discuss booking vendor consults at our next meeting in May and that she’d reach out to book a meeting with us. We had no issue with this.
A couple months ago we (WP, MF and I) also decided that MF and I would be going down there in early June (a year out from our wedding) to do a site visit of our venue with WP and meet with potential vendors to start getting things booked. Because I live in a different country, I can’t just meet with local vendors on a whim so I needed to pre-plan a time to do this. So I booked some vacation time in the first week of June for this specific purpose.
In our April meeting, WP had also mentioned that her own wedding was happening at the end of this month and she’d be taking some time off for that and she’d let us know when that would be. Of course, this isn’t a problem and we’re very excited for her and wanted to make sure we left her alone after our May meeting so she could focus on her own big day.
As of earlier this week, it has been a month since our last meeting and she had not followed up to send us the vendors list or let us know when she was going to be off and schedule the meeting. She has been active on Instagram so I figured she wasn’t off yet and wanted to check in again since I hadn’t heard back from her on my last email.
I sent her a friendly follow-up email a couple days ago wishing her well on her upcoming wedding and asking her when she’ll be out of office so we know to not disturb her during that time, if she still intended to meet with us before she took her time off and if she was still intending to send us the list of potential vendors because I’m trying to get some meeting booked for when I’m down there in June.
The main reason I’m worried is that I had already booked my trip and the time off work to go meet with vendors at the beginning of June and without the vendor information she was supposed to be sharing, I’m concerned I won’t be able to book meetings with vendors and make the most of my time.
She emailed me back saying that she’s so sorry but wedding season is in full swing, she’s behind on our vendor research and that she’ll be off starting tomorrow until June 1 but she absolutely promises she’ll get me the vendor list really soon. She also said she probably won’t have time to meet this month unless MF and I were open to an early morning meeting. In response, to my mention of my trip down there she said yeah, you’ll want to check out some food and beverage vendors but florals, cakes, photographers and DJs can all just be booked over the phone.
She also stressed that she strives to respond to all emails within 24-48 hours and to just send her an email if we have a question for her.
I sent her a follow up email thanking her for confirming those details and said we were willing to do a morning meeting and asked her if she had a specific day in mind for that but it’s been three days and she hasn’t responded. I know she’s on vacation starting tomorrow so I don’t really want to pester her again.
To be clear, I would never expect my wedding to take precedence over everything, nor do I want to bother her while she’s preparing for her own wedding because I want her to be able to enjoy that without having to worry about work stuff but I am concerned about her not following through on multiple tasks.
Because of scheduling and short staffing at my job, I won’t be able to move my vacation to a later week to give her more time to pull together the vendors list. I understand things get busy and sometimes people need more time to get things done but I just wish she had communicated that to us sooner so I could’ve maybe moved my vacation to another time. I probably won’t be able to visit the area again until fall or winter.
I don’t want to assume that I know how to do other people’s jobs but event planning (though more so for corporate and media events, not weddings) is a big part of my job. She has been doing weddings in that area for years now and so I’m a bit surprised that within the month since we last met, she hasn’t been able to just send us a list of vendors she has worked with before. I know weddings vary from couple to couple so different vendors will work for different people but the wedding MF and I are planning and the budget we’re working with isn’t atypical from many of the other weddings WP has done. At this point, I don’t even care if it’s a curated list, I’d just like to know who and what is available in the area.
I’m not trying to be a difficult bride, but I’m already quite stressed about having my wedding somewhere that isn’t familiar to me and getting everything booked from afar. As of right now, I’m doing my own vendor research, which is fine but a bit challenging. Because where we’re getting married is quite rural, a lot of local vendors aren’t great with having information about their services online and many don’t even have websites.
I know I can (and am) doing this myself, but I’m quite busy at work so I’m a bit disappointed I’m now scrambling to find my own vendors when we specifically hired her to do this for us. She also said she would put together a broken down budget by category but she hasn’t yet which would’ve been very helpful to have prior to looking into vendors.
Again, I completely understand things happen, life gets busy and sometimes people can’t deliver when they initially thought they could but I just wish WP would keep us in the loop. I really want her to be able to enjoy and focus on her wedding but it concerns me that she hasn’t delivered on the things she has promised to. She has talked about how busy she is and how she has so many weddings on the go and now I’m worried that by taking on our wedding, she may have bitten off more than she can chew.
I will give her the benefit of the doubt and give her a chance to catch up on things after she’s back from her own wedding/vacation but so far, I don’t feel very confident that she’ll come through for us or be mindful that our unique situation may require a slightly different timeline on some things.
If she is too busy to actually do our wedding, I hope she will be honest and let us know sooner rather than later. I’m worried about the prospect of finding a replacement planner a year out.
I’m sorry for my rant and maybe I’m being unreasonable and crazy. I’m just very stressed out by all the uncertainty.

After the last 4 months of drinking almost every day I feel a renewed interest in trying to quit again. If I'm being honest, I really don't see myself succeeding this time, just like I haven't the last 30 or so times I've tried over the past decade. The first few days are always a piece of cake for me, then when I'm starting to feel normalish I convince myself to get back to drinking. It starts off slow, but over the weeks it picks up until I go too far, stay up too late and let things like work ethic, housework, parenting responsibilities and personal care slide.
I think the main reason I get back on the booze after a few days away from it would be that I am genuinely 100% dissatisfied with my life. Things are bad, and they just keep getting worse. Work is unfulfilling, but I can't leave. I make decent pay ($35/hr) but I can't pay my bills due to crushing debt and a constantly rising cost of living. My wife and I separated 2 years ago (a good thing) but due to financial issues I had to move back into the house with her and the kids to avoid losing the house, which because I am behind on property taxes might still happen anyway. This makes for a somewhat uncomfortable living situation at times.
I am severely depressed and have zero self esteem but I can't find help. The province I live in is in the process of completely destroying and selling off our health care system so finding a family doctor is all but impossible. I've tried counselling but couldn't find a good fit before my benefits ran out as they only cover about 4 sessions per year. I'm severely introverted and have one friend who also happens to be my boss. We talk about this stuff, but I don't want to put too much on her as I feel like a burden as it is. Honestly, just typing that out has me wanting to take my empty cans in and rush off to buy a cheap case of beer to put an end to these feelings (even if just temporarily). I won't right now, and I'll try really hard not to later on.
In the past I've also convinced myself that because I wasn't seeing results as soon as I was hoping I would consider it not worth it and give up. If I were to list the things I would like to see from quitting they would be: - Increased energy levels. I always feel run down. - Better sleep. I can sleep for up to 10 hours and still have difficulty waking up in the morning. - More positive attitude. I'm so negative all the time. - A return of interest. I have lost my past interests and don't feel passion for anything anymore. I no longer feel a point to life and wouldn't say I have any goals anymore. - More money. Or more accurately put, I would like to feel like I'm catching up on what I'm behind on. Getting ahead is out of the question for the foreseeable future. - Get the drive to exercise. Even the thought of stretching semi regularly seems like an absolute impossibility right now. - Be more present with my kids. I'm present with them now, and very present with them when I'm in my drunken "sweet spot" but not so much in the mornings where I'm hung over. - Most importantly, I want to feel in control of my life again. In every aspect of my life I feel trapped and like I have no say in my own life. Obviously getting drunk, staying up late and playing video games let's me feel like I have some sort of control. The irony of it being that the beer is actually in control.
Anyway, thanks for reading through this kind internet stranger. I need help and am desperate to find the solution to the biggest problems in my life. Alternatively, if you're the type of person who reads through subs like this for the same type of entertainment you might get from watching Jerry Springer or Cops, then I hope my life is more enjoyable to you than it is for me. It gives it some sort of value.
Day 1...

I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?

When I first started selling on Amazon, there were times when a product just wouldn’t sell. It was frustrating, but I learned that there are several options to consider when faced with slow-moving inventory. Here’s what I did to turn things around and how you can too.

Evaluate Your Listing

1. Optimize Your Product Listing

One of the first things I did was revisit my product listing to ensure it was fully optimized. This included:

• Title: I made sure my title was clear, concise, and included relevant keywords.
• Images: I updated my images to ensure they were high-quality and showcased my product from multiple angles.
• Bullet Points and Description: I improved the bullet points and description to highlight the key features and benefits of my product.
• Keywords: I conducted keyword research to ensure I was using the best possible keywords to attract customers.

Reassess Your Pricing

2. Adjust Your Pricing Strategy

Pricing can make or break a sale. I experimented with my pricing to find the sweet spot:

• Competitive Pricing: I checked out my competitors’ prices and adjusted mine to be more competitive.
• Discounts and Promotions: I offered discounts, coupons, and deals to attract more buyers.
• Dynamic Pricing Tools: I used repricing tools to automatically adjust my prices based on market conditions.

Improve Product Visibility

3. Invest in Advertising

To increase visibility, I invested in Amazon Advertising:

• Sponsored Products: I ran Sponsored Product ads to boost my product’s visibility in search results.
• Sponsored Brands: If you have a registered brand, consider using Sponsored Brands to showcase your brand and product portfolio.
• Amazon PPC Campaigns: I optimized my Pay-Per-Click (PPC) campaigns to target the right keywords and audience.

Enhance Customer Engagement

4. Leverage Customer Reviews

Customer reviews can significantly impact sales:

• Request Reviews: I used Amazon’s request a review button to encourage customers to leave feedback.
• Respond to Reviews: I responded to both positive and negative reviews to show customers I cared about their experience and to address any issues.
• Improve Product Quality: Based on feedback, I made improvements to my product to meet customer expectations better.

Offer Additional Value

5. Bundle Products

Creating bundles can increase the perceived value:

• Complementary Products: I bundled my product with complementary items to offer more value.
• Exclusive Bundles: I created exclusive bundles that were unique to my store, making them more appealing.

Explore Different Markets

6. Expand to Other Marketplaces

Sometimes, a product that doesn’t sell well in one marketplace might do better in another:

• International Markets: I expanded my reach to international Amazon marketplaces.
• Other E-commerce Platforms: I listed my products on other platforms like eBay, Walmart, and Etsy to reach a broader audience.

Liquidate Inventory

7. Liquidation

When all else failed, I considered liquidating my inventory to recover some costs:

• Amazon Outlet: I used Amazon Outlet deals to clear out excess inventory at discounted prices.
• Third-Party Liquidators: I worked with third-party liquidators to sell off unsold stock in bulk.

Analyze and Learn

8. Review Sales Data and Analytics

Continuous improvement is key:

• Sales Reports: I regularly reviewed my sales reports to identify trends and areas for improvement.
• Customer Feedback: I paid close attention to customer feedback to make informed decisions about my product and listing.

Yesterday bought four ice cream pints (last pic), two Blue Bell and two Ben and Jerry’s. It’s my first time buying Blue Bell so expectations were high but this Cookies n Cream Cone (ranked S-tier ultra top 5 YouTuber Cohen Thompson) fell short. Big caveat: it melted. Perhaps this isn’t a fair review. I suspect it still wouldn’t be my favorite flavor regardless.
Ben and Jerry’s Bossin’ Cream Pie is also mentioned on this sub, and maybe the second Topped ice cream I tried (I think I had a previous strawberry cheesecake one with white chocolate ganache top I also didn’t like). It has been suggested as superior to Jeni’s Boston Cream Pie which I haven’t tried. At less than half the price of Jeni’s when on sale, why not give it a shot? I’m here to say it’s fine, but also skippable.
Ben and Jerry’s - Topped Bossin’ Cream Pie.

“Vanilla custard ice cream with cake pieces and pastry cream swirls topped with milk chocolatey ganache and fudge chips.” Caveat: Have not actually tried Boston Cream Pie (have tried the donut) * Vanilla custard ice cream: a pleasant old-fashioned vanilla taste that’s a medium between Ben and Jerry’s Vanilla (classic) and Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla (old fashioned) but not as strong. Both flavors I’ll review next. * Cake pieces: very tasty, slightly salty yellow cake. Meant to resemble Boston Cream Pie, not donut, but recalls both anyway. Soft and blended into the ice cream rather than dense or chunky. A good amount. * Pastry cream swirls: No discernible difference in texture; however I do get a vanilla icing flavor sometimes. Not the custard taste I wish for and know from the donut. * Milk chocolatey ganache top: More fudge than ganache (thicker). Sweetened like chocolate frosting. Great to bite into but develops a vegetable oil chocolate taste like acceptable but not premium Palmer’s Halloween or Easter candy. * Fudge chips: good thickness. Would I repurchase? No. A fun ice cream with neat deconstructed ideas of Boston Cream Pie (cake or donut) to have and to finish once. Overly sweet. Hints at but ultimately lacks the desert’s (I’m familiar with the donut) iconic custard center gooeyness. * Rating: 6/10.

Blue Bell - Cookie Two Step.

“Vanilla ice cream with chocolate creme filled cookie crumbles, chocolate swirl and chocolate cone pieces covered in dark chocolate.” Caveat: This ice cream melted during transit. Lost 30% volume! Picture shows refrozen ice cream after taking same amount of bits of each (not much). The Ben & Jerry’s ice cream was subjected to about half the 30 minute transit time and was not significantly affected. * Vanilla ice cream: chocolate swirl is prevalent and very integrated leading to a Hershey’s chocolate syrup mixed with milk taste overall, rather than vanilla. * Chocolate creme filled cookie crumble: a Hostess chocolate cupcake with vanilla icing taste rather than Oreo. Other cookies and cream ice cream doesn’t usually contain cookies with creme center mix ins so this is unique. I still prefer Oreo creme center though (sweet creme rather than icing taste). * Chocolate swirl: Tastes like Hershey’s chocolate syrup which is good. But overpowering. * Chocolate cone pieces covered in dark chocolate: the best texture of the ice cream. Nice and crisp, fresh tasting. Not really dark chocolate though (mildest 50-55% dark chocolate maybe). Would I repurchase? No. Visually a dazzling ice cream with the appearance of stacked mix ins. Evenly distributed cookie (small) crumble with some exciting waffle cone. Yet too much syrup. Did not enjoy the cookies with creme center like I thought I would. Glad I got the pint instead of half gallon. Wish I got Cookies and Cream instead! * Rating: 6/10

Bossin Cream Pie alternatives: * Trader Joe’s - Banana Pudding. Has vanilla wafer cookie rather than yellow cake. Chewiegooier overall textures though. A similar flaw in a strong sweetness. 7/10.
Cookies n Cream Cone alternatives: * Private Selection - Denali Extreme Moose Tracks. Average but at least it’s got a better tasting chocolate swirl that has a smidge of salty dark chocolate taste. 6.5/10 * Private Selection - Chocolate Cheesecake. Average but i enjoy the cookie crumble (pie crust) better. Similar flavor profile to the above Private Selection. The cookies have a little bitter, salty and fruity taste. 6.5/10 * Perry’s - Bittersweet Symphony. Coffee ice cream, bittersweet fudge swirls, fudge chunks. A little more darker chocolate syrup swirl. 6.5-7/10? It’s been a long time.

Months ago, I broke up with an abuse exwBPD (let’s call her F) not only was the relationship almost exageratingly intense and awful, but after we broke up, the mental anguish still stayed. I apologize if this isn’t 100% making sense as English isn’t my first language.
Before we even started dating, she was sprouting lots of red flags. She told me she had BPD, and beforehand, I had no experience BPD, I knew some things that were common knowledge. but wasn’t 100% on what it entailed. I was extremely naïve and took her word for it wanting to be supportive. She told me constantly that I was her favorite person, and showed me what seemed like HUNDREDS of notes on her phone talking about me. The only thing she told me was that they were notes about how happy she was to have me as a friend because “everyone left her” and I was “the only person who got her.” I was extremely creeped out, but still, being naïve didn’t say anything. She texted me almost 24/7, and would send me lots of “I love yous” begging to know the more intimate parts of my life, always asking what happened to me as a kid to make me “so kind and sweet.” When I couldn’t respond to her messages, she spammed my phone non stop begging me to get back online.
I decided to tell my friends about her, and immediately one of them had a reaction. I live in a very small town, heck, we don’t have most fast food restaurant chains or a walmart. I asked her if she knew who F was, and she confirmed that yeah, they were friends at one point in time, and F was an absolute awful person. She recounted that she always felt the need to 1-up people’s problems and would suddenly get mad at people and backstab them over slight miscommunications. I knew I should’ve listened to her, but I didn’t.
Last year, she asked me to be her girlfriend, and I said yes, that’s when things went from bad to worse. Her “spamming me when I didn’t respond” thing went from somewhat playful to demanding, and she would spam me with long essays about how I clearly didn’t love her anymore, to which we talked and she then demanded that I had to tell her everytime I was going to be busy so that she didn’t “worry about me.” Every other day, she would send me messages begging me not to ever abandon her to which I had to be there for hours reassuring her I didn’t want to do that. It had only been a week and I already wanted to leave, yet I remember her telling me “I feel like one day you’re going to leave me and completley move on, but it’ll be months and I’ll still be crying about us.” This is what kept me trapped. She would plan days where her plan was for us to spend the whole day together and do/ talk to no one else. She showed me the notes she wrote about me before, and they were genuinely horrific. Some were of her detailing how she would hate to live a life where I ever stopped talking to her, others were detailed fantasies about me and what I was like, even keeping a photo album of pictures and videos that reminded her of me. All this before I even started dating her. I quickly realized I couldn’t talk to her about my issues. Everytime I tried telling her about something in my life that would happening, she would pull a “Me me me!” And, like my friend warned me, had to 1-up me. When I told her I had autism, she immediately was saying things like “if you’re autistic, then I’m absolutely screwed!” She always mirrored my personality, taking note of the shows and movies I liked, claiming to be huge fans of them and calling everyone else a fake fan. I’m not even sure the point of that. She absolutely HATED the fact I had friends. She often told me my main friend group was “clearly trying to harm me” even though I told her I’ve never been hurt by them, and she would glare other people who had given me hugs. Many people brought up her abusive behavior towards me as they picked up on it before I even could. All of this would repeat and cycle for a whole year. I became extremely depressed, wanting a way out but not finding one.
Months ago of last year, was when the breakup finally happened. I was with her and recently she had gotten obsessed with going out and shopping, so she asked me to come to the mall with her. I said that I couldn’t at the moment but I’d be willing to go later, not expecting anything, and she absolutely flipped out. She begun crying saying it was clear I never had any time for her and that I was just going to abandon her like everyone else. This went on for a while until she told me that she hated me and never wanted to talk to me again. Yet despite that, the next day she sent me a long message asking for my forgiveness saying that she was so stupid for what she did and wanted to be friends again. I was still broken from how she treated me, and so I obliged, but after a week she told me she was dating her new friend and blocked me when I said “Congratulations!” Because I was “Clearly being sarcastic.”
It’s been months, and I still feel so much pain from it. One of her co-workers who I actually know, (again, small small town) told me that she had been spreading rumors that I was a “narcissistic abuser” who never cared about her or was there for her. More than anything I’m just hurt and it feels so hard to heal. Finding this sub has been such a help though, but at the same time it’s great and also disheartening that I’m not alone in my experience.

When you wanted me to go on one last camping trip to try to change my mind, I didn’t go. Sometimes I feel torn about not going. Part of me was afraid at the time I’d fall back on my decision to leave. Part of me now just wishes I went. But when I think about the last camping trip we had, I think it’s for the best.
.......
I left work early that Friday so we could take off camping with your friends that weekend. We had to stop by and get some supplies at Walmart on the way. We were walking through walmart and I was having so much fun just being present and enjoying the moment because we were about to have a great weekend trip camping and I was so excited. In my bubbly excitement, I started lightheartedly making jokes and pointing at random objects, saying how this hatchet would make a great addition to our home, etc. You were distracted, with your mind elsewhere, thinking about what we actually needed. You half ignored me/half acknowledged me, in short responses “Oh that’s nice” “Yea that’s cool. Can we get back on track” And when I asked if we could get a veggie burger you told me no harshly and scolded me because you were trying to shop on a budget. The instant dismissal and tone in which you snapped hurt. In my defiance, I said “ Fine I’ll just get it myself so you don’t have to pay for it,” and You said “Fine whatever.” as you turned to keep walking with the cart. Several minutes later, we were in another aisle. I don’t remember what it was that I had pointed at again or asked if we could get. I just remember, you finally lost it with me. You lashed out at me, clearly fed up and pissed, raising your voice to berate me. “Can you SHUT UP and stop pointing at every little fucking thing in the store? Are you trying to annoy me?! I’m in a fucking rush here and I am trying to stay on track so we can get out to the camping site. Just. fucking. Stop.” you couldn’t deal with me. Me, who was just being myself. But to you, it felt like everything I was doing, everything I was saying was on purpose just to annoy you, just to get in your way.
The way you scolded me in public and told me to stop talking entirely just put an instant damper on my cheery mood. In that moment, for me, I was stunned. And I think that’s part of what hurt so much. Just the fact that you could lash out at me in that way, out of the blue. The fact that me being myself, just speaking my mind could make you so angry. The fact that you could, in an instant, be so cruel and uncaring, and speak to me with that tone. That tone that said you hated me, couldn’t stand me, like I was just a buzzing fly you could smack down at any given moment. Wondering why you even invited me if I annoy you so much. Wondering why you’re even with me if me just being myself makes you so angry. Wondering if I should have just been silent the whole time, so as not to trigger you because I didn’t know how to speak without enraging you.. It was just so clear to me in that moment, how little you respected me. And that hurt. Because the whole time, I just wanted your attention, I was trying to connect with you in my own way, trying to have fun and enjoy the moment because I loved you. But you didn’t even want to see me. And just me making attempts at light hearted banter was enough to send you into rage. Because that’s how little you wanted to do with me, that’s how little I meant to you. And I wasn’t even thinking these thoughts, it was an understanding that came to me in a feeling of hurt in a split second. It was understood through the tone of your voice, that threatening contemptuous tone. It was understood through the look in your eyes, warning me.
Immediately, I got quiet standing there with a feeling of whiplash, stunned by how suddenly you snapped and in an instant, I started crying. Tears welled up in my eyes of their own volition before I could even fully process. They say tears are often an unconscious defense mechanism, to let our caregivers know that this person needs to be cared for because they are hurt. But for some reason, whenever I cried, it always had the opposite impact on you.
When you noticed the tears forming, you looked at me with such intense disbelief and rage. With one look, a look I was well familiar with, you sent me into a terrified panic because I knew with that look that I was in trouble for daring to cry, that I had fucked up by showing my hurt, and that you were angrier for it. You rolled your eyes in such exasperation, like you really couldn’t deal with my audacity to dare tear up, and you exclaimed “ Oh my GAWWWD” while simultaneously turning away from me. I quickly tried to apologize and wipe my eyes “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to” You had already just walked off. I stood there a moment, trying to compose myself, before following after you. I looked around, expecting you to be close by but you had walked way across the store and were standing in the checkout line. You were silent when I came up, you didn’t even acknowledge me, and I looked up at you, watching you quietly seethe. Everything about your demeanor said that I had fucked up. Without looking at me, you leaned in close and said in a hushed warning voice “You better stop fucking crying right now,” like I was a child throwing a tantrum in the store. I responded emotionally, “I’m sorry” once more, as I wiped my eyes. I kept my head down, and made myself quiet and small, embarrassed that people could see. Red eyed, barely holding back tears, willing myself not to cry, we checked out one by one. Numb, I started silently scanning the veggie burgers you had tried to stop me from buying earlier, along with half of everything else. An older female Walmart employee walked by, and I ducked my head down to avoid eye contact, embarrassed she might be able to tell. I paid, and you silently checked out as well.
Later in the car, You went off on me, saying I shouldn't ever cry in public because someone might think you hit me and call the cops. You were more concerned with the way I made you look in public (which is why you walked away from me), then the fact that I was hurt, crying, and clearly upset. There was no apology, no admittance of being in the wrong. And I was just thinking that if you had shown any kind of empathy and acted like you gave a shit, asked me what's wrong or if i'm okay, put a hand on my shoulder, then no one would think you beat me. I said as much, and you said “Okay.” There was no “I’m sorry.” no “I was wrong.” Just okay, and silence.
As soon as we arrived at the site, and we unloaded our stuff, I went to grab a drink from the cooler, one that had been in the freezer at our house frozen solid, which had been sitting in the car for last couple hours In a bag of ice in The cooler, and I asked you as I grabbed it “Do you think it's thawed now?” thinking out loud.
And you just looked at me all incredulously as if you were amazed that I could say something so patently ridiculous and said “Thats the dumbest fucking question, why would you even ask that or think that it would still be frozen? Of course it's thawed. Are you an idiot?” You shook your head like you were disappointed I’d be so stupid. like it was so obvious and I was just this huge idiot for even having that passing thought let alone daring to share. You said it loud enough that I worried some of the other couples around us heard and I just remember feeling so hurt, so small, and stupid, on top of being embarrassed and ashamed. I felt so small, so disrespected, so dismissed, so ridiculed, and it hurt because it was coming from the one person I cared about. Instantly, I just got quiet, and sad. The way you could belittle me so easily and at a whim at any given moment, no matter what I said. Wondering why I even bother to speak with you at all. To ever ask you anything. To ever even speak out loud. I did my best to shove down my hurt feelings, to not let it show, and to carry on socializing with your friends. Because you had trained me well not to show that in front of other people, and I figured it wouldn’t go well having a meltdown in front of your friends.
And I remember during the evening by the campfire, I stayed up and listened to you and Joey speak. I was in the background, not saying anything, Just listening. And I remember having a lot of thoughts about the topics you were speaking about. But I didn’t say a word. The whole time. Because I just figured that was what you wanted from me. To be quiet. To not say anything stupid. To not piss you off. Because it was so clear to me how stupid and uninteresting my thoughts were to you. And I knew it was not safe to have a dissenting opinion during banter with you. It wasn’t like you ever even made an effort to include me in the conversation, to ask me what I thought anyway. And I figured it wasn’t even worth the risk to say the wrong thing. After Joey eventually went to bed, you tried to talk to me. And I was just kind of quiet, defeated, tired, unresponsive. You asked me “Why don’t you say anything.” I told you I was just tired. But the truth was I was upset, I was doing my best to bury my feelings, to not talk about it, because I knew you didn’t like it when I showed that I was upset. It’s hard to want to have a conversation with someone who will randomly punish you for saying the wrong thing. And I was terrified of doing that again. Like the way you punished me was infrequent, but frequent enough, where I never knew if I was going to trigger a bad response again.And I had no idea how to not say something you would find stupid, because everytime I triggered you, I was just being myself. So then I was left feeling like I couldn’t speak my mind or say anything at all because I could step on a land mine at any given moment.
Later that night as I drifted to sleep, I started wondering if you got that new air mattress and tent from your camping trip with Josie. The one you lied to me about. And I wondered if she slept on this mattress with you back then, in the same tent.
Throughout the weekend, this dynamic continued and colored the rest of the trip, which for that reason ended up being not as great as I had thought it would be. Any fun and casual conversation I was having would be immediately ruined by you calling me an idiot who didn't know what I was talking about. It really hurt every time and it was like you didn't even realize you were doing it. That cruelty, that belittling, that contempt, it just came so naturally to you.
And then there was the whole incident with the cave conversation. When I finally decided to join in the conversation between you and Joey’s kid nephew talking about the cave system. And I asked apparently a stupid question. And the way that you belittled me so callously and cruelly right infront of that kid. That shit hurt. And he was just watching us, looking back and forth. And I remember turning away and discontinuing engaging in the conversation because I couldn’t get into it with you then. I just sat there, in the lawn chair, willing myself not to cry, while I thought about how depressed and lonely I was. I started talking to Joey’s sweet little niece who came up and started showing me pictures, and I just nodded and smiled, talking to her while half out of it, just trying to hold back my tears. And honestly, I had a better conversation with her than I had with you the entire trip. They say kids can be cruel because they are socially inept, but those kids were so much nicer than you..
Later you were so convinced you were in the right you said “Even the kid was looking at you like you were stupid because you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about because you weren’t in the cave” And Im just thinking this has nothing to do with me not understanding caves and everything to do with your cruelty and the way you constantly put me down like its second fucking nature. But you couldn’t understand that. You were so convinced you were right, and I was wrong.
And towards the end I stopped engaging in conversation all together if you were present because I didn't want to be punished for saying the wrong thing. And I just remember thinking how sad it was that your friends spoke to me with more respect than my own boyfriend and I started wondering why I ever even agreed to go on this trip in the first place.
And you wonder why i didn’t want to go camping with you again after the last time.

G'day to ya! I'm spunky pnw born & raised weirdo (not too weird, though!) on the hunt for other silly alt lifestyle friends to break up the daily monotony and put a little zest back in it.
Preferably you're between 28-36yrs, open minded and free spirited.
-Bonus points if you've seen some shit in your time-
I'm a crass little thing with a mouth that could embarrass a sailor most days. I clean up nice, though. An equally balanced blend of sweet and spice with the self awareness to know when the flip the switch.
I'm fit - just not muscular - and appreciate someone who's health conscious but not shy about eating cake for breakfast. I have a few tattoos and piercings as well and love chatting/learning about body mods of all kinds (what's the next one you're planning for right now?) While I'd consider myself of the alternative aesthetic, it's more akin to "your local librarian after-hours."
I'm a chronic starter of hobbies, a mild console gamer, and a consumer of the devil's lettuce. I spend a large chunk of time gardening or taking my dog on too long of walks when the weather's nice.
Im looking for dark humor and sassy banter just as much as I'm interested in pondering the oddities of the universe and all its intangible forces at play. Recently, I'm on an "astral travel" kick because... why not? It's fun to think about. But we can share pictures, music, or intrusive thoughts too.
My recent watches range from Bee and Puppycat to Poor Things, Baby Reindeer, 1883 and other random shit. I'm also stoked to see Metalocalypse and SuperJail on Netflix - long forgotten guilty pleasures I'm excited to revisit ^{^}
Anywho, I gotta wrap this up and leave something for you to discover, right?!
P.s. I'm posting today but am usually a m-f conversationalist just a heads up!

(piggybacking off of yesterday’s unpopular food opinion post)
What is a food recommendation that you got from Pgh Reddit that panned out? For me it’s -
Penn Ave Fish Co. - the sushi was great (ambience a little lacking but would go back)
Jean Marc Chatellier- great croissants and carrot cake (icing not too sweet for you haters ;) )
(I’ve been meaning to try Oram’s at the source and will challenge someone to a duel if they don’t pan out

Hello, and thank you for reading this question.
I recently made rhubarb muffins from a recipe online and added 20% less brown sugar than called for (1 cup vs 1 1/4 cups). They turned out fine, though I would have preferred them a little less sweet. Same with a chocolate cake recipe I got from Martha Stewart Kids (don't knock it, it's a great cake). My question is: should I be substituting something else for the sugar I'm removing? What would make a good substitute?
Keep in mind, this is about sweetness, not calories, and I'm not looking for low-cal sweeteners to put in their place.

I like to learn while I read. Sometimes I’ll read a fic and had no idea that Things Could Be Like That, and I’m just floored, thinking about it for days, googling and crying. As I haven’t the best memory, I might have forgotten some, and I might add more later. Everything is rated E or M because I only read the slick and sloppy.

THE LIST

1: For Loving One (AU) - World War II has never really interested me, and I didn’t know much about what it was like to be queer back then. I just assumed almost everyone was out to get you (and I wasn’t wrong), but I just didn’t have any reference material. Now I do, as it’s clear the author knows a lot about this topic. This is a beautiful story, well researched, with just enough happy and just enough angst. I’ve learned a lot, entirely without meaning to.
2: Epistolary - one of my favorite tropes, which is Crowley finding and reading Aziraphale’s diary and stumbling upon very private thoughts and YearningTM throughout history. There are plagues, there are Aztec ritual sacrifices, there’s a long-haired, sleeping Crowley in a cave and Aziraphale losing his mind yearning over (literally over) said sleeping Crowley.
3: exodus2 (AU) - Ezra (ambitious and lonely) and Crowley (very eager), programming students in their early 20s, meet at university in a totalitarian European state, and both have an interest in banned media and causing some trouble. You’ll learn some Hebrew, some Yiddish and Scandinavian - and how to start an insurrection against the State. And, there are (banned) book recommendations!
4: A Godawful Small Affair - What if Vince Taylor wasn’t Bowie’s inspiration for Ziggy Stardust? A fic that placed me firmly in a music scene I’ve never immersed myself in, in a decade I somehow skipped over. Yes, I know, I’m weird - but I’ve learned a lot! It’s sweet and it really feels probable.
5: Rough Enough for Love (AU) - As an AFAB person, I’ve learned so much about… uh, the subjective intricacies of AMAB anatomy. Also, it’s nice to skip the yearning sometimes and just read them having their cake and eating it too.
6: The False and the Fair (AU) - I knew nothing about West Virginia, nor about coal mining. It has all the feels and if this was about anyone other than the ineffables I wouldn’t have read it and I would have missed out. I’ve learned so much about a society and a setting so far from everything I thought I was interested in. Don’t miss out!
7: A Gift of Words - Okay, it’s not slick and sloppy - but VERY sweet, and I learned a lot about Gutenberg and the printing press. Crowley changes the world for his angel, by giving him (arguably) his most favorite thing.
8: Old Vines (AU) - Aziraphale is a wine&food blogger and Crowley produces extraordinary wine in his viny vineyard/heart that he doesn’t let anyone into. People go crazy over this one. I’m sure I will, too (on the plane, later). I will learn a LOT about wine, I’m told.
9: I Believe I am Owed a Toss - if you’re looking to learn how to properly entice a member of the members only-club, then read this.
10: Coming into Focus (AU) - “It is the summer of 1864, and Aziraphale is an itinerant photographer set up behind Union lines outside Petersburg, Virginia. He’s no stranger to pleasure, but he has always protected his heart. But when the redheaded colonel of the 5th New Jersey walks into his tent, he begins to wonder whether it’s time to rethink his stance on love.” Haven’t read it yet, but I’m gonna!
4: What Hath God Wrought (AU) - “Do you remember, my darling, the early days when there were just fingers and air and sounds – a rhythmic beeping in the day, a frantic answer in the night? The orange glow of lamps. Coding and decoding. Choosing the words carefully, never too many, but always enough.” Yearning over telegraphs! Can’t wait to read this one. Artwork HERE.
Let me know if YOU wrote a fic in which you teach the reader about something you have special knowledge of! I’d like to read, learn and link to it here!

Like many of you my exwbpd put me through the wringer. It only lasted 20 months but that was enough to leave some lasting trauma that I didn't expect. Now that I have started attempting to date again and found someone special I think I am experiencing PTSD.
This guy is absolutely nothing like the type of people I normally attract. I have had a hard time believing he is real. We met on a dating app and hit it off so well over text I started thinking it was my exwbpd catfishing me or her doing something nefarious.
We hadn't talked on the phone yet and set up a date. He ended up cancelling for valid reasons but I got terrified thinking it was for sure her. I had a panic attack and asked him to please send a selfie holding up specific fingers to verify he is real. Thankfully he understands what I am going through and eased my fears or so I thought.
He ended up going silent which hurt because we have been connecting on a deep level. 3 days of no responses led me to think he ghosted me and wasn't as interested as he led on. It felt off like he wouldn't do that, it's just not who he is.
I started panicking again and thought about how much my ex loved AI and used chatgpt to manipulate me in the past. I became convinced my ex was catfishing me. I searched this amazing guys phone number, got his last name, and dove in hoping he's real and not my exwbpd.
He's not only real he's a volunteer with suicide prevention and has many accolades. He's a freaking amazing man. Of course he realized I am damaged and he doesn't want a relationship with me right? Like he did ghost me.
Nope. This guy was in and out of consciousness in the hospital for 3 days. He called me as soon as he was capable and we hadn't heard each others voices until that call. This poor sweet man has a family history of colon cancer. He's 44 and that's close to the age many of his relatives were taken buy the nasty ailment. The doctors can't figure out what is wrong with him and refered him to a specialist.
Now I keep getting this intrusive thought that he's not real and it's my exwbpd. I mean AI is more than capable of meaningful conversation when fed well crafted promts, image generation is a piece of cake, and so is creating a unique voice.
Wth is wrong with my brain? Like I know he's real. I have seen more than enough verifiable information to prove he is infact him yet I can't shake this fear that it's her. I am terrified this is going to persists and transform into me not trusting him and his word. I am scared I am going to ruin something seemingly healthy for me.
I am also terrified he is a great partner and I am opening myself up for heartache if I continue to pursue him and he ends up having colon cancer. I honestly am at a point where I am on my last bit of hope in trying to find a life partner. I can't handle going from so much abuse to someone amazing and him passing away. It will destroy me past recovery and I don't know what to do.
Do I accept that we are a great match and pursue love even though I know if his health takes a turn for the worst it will seal my fate? Or do I accept that I am no able to handle that potential outcome in such near a future? Like I am really into him and it's so healthy I don't think I will ever find this type of connection again. It's not love bombing or trauma bonding. It's genuine and I feel like fate is playing a cruel game with me and I will suffer no matter what I do.

Had a delightful evening at Delta, a new-ish tasting menu in Athens. It’s housed in a beautiful campus that includes the national library and opera house. The restaurant is gorgeous, with trees in large planters that hang from the ceiling. Service was kind and knowledgeable, and servers seemed excited to share the dishes. It’s a very experimental menu, with both Nordic influences and a lot of tromp l’oeil. The ingredients use mostly local Greek produce and the restaurant highlights their goal of sustainability. All of this leads to major Michelin bait. Good thing is that while some dishes didn’t do it for me, on a whole it was a delicious experience, with some very novel techniques. Even the dishes that weren’t to my taste were interesting and showed reach for the kitchen, and the reasons I didn’t enjoy them came down to mostly personal taste. The dishes that did hit were absolutely delicious and wildly creative.
Courses were as follows:
1) a mushroom and nut tartar flavored with chamomile on a crispy cabbage base: strong start with a tasty amuse that had some deep chamomile flavor that read purely savory 2) Second course was a fake Calla flower filled with confit pigeon leg and topped with bergamot foam- wildly delicious with fresh citrus mingling with savory meat and the “flower” petal acting as a delightful base 3) Grilled deer covering fermented artichoke and fermented blueberry with oxalis flowers- interesting dish with lots of strong flavors- I would have loved it if not for the strong fermented funk that’s not my cup of tea- if you love lactofermented stuff you’ll love this 4) “Leaf” of dehydrated pear filled with grilled iberico pork and sprayed with pine- one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten, a textural and flavorful dish of light and meaty happiness- ate like a fresh but still savory delight 5) Grilled corn on fermented buckwheat- another knockout, this ate like the best corn on the cob ever, and the buckwheat base had a meatiness to it, like what seitan should be 6) Bread coarse was shaped like a porcini mushroom and flavored with aged vegetables, blackened apple, a variety of herbs and brushed with aromatics, served with a foamy bone marrow crème anglaise: another stupidly delicious course that was beautiful too- bread was intensely flavored and the bone marrow foam added even more richness, all tempered with this bright green dehydrated gremolata paste hidden underneath the “mushroom” cap. It tasted like the best pizza bagel I’ve ever had 7) Cod made to look like a scallop, with fresh flowers covering the orange “skirt”- the skirt was actually fermented and grilled plums- this was a good dish, very light, with good flavors off the cod, plums, and flowers- but felt like it could use a light more salt on the fish itself . Good but not amazing. 8) Sweetbreads covered with koji inoculated grains to look like a fuzzy bird- a really creative dish that looked amazing but was not to my taste. The mold was my favorite part, but the sweetbreads were way too heavy for me. 9) Possibly the best dish of the night for me- a slowly caramelized and dehydrated apple filled with picanha steak and covered in beef garum and Demi glace. This was mind blowing in that the apple had just as much meatiness as the beef with full apple flavor but no sweetness, so it tasted like a savory apple with just immensely deep umami. 10) Pigeon breast glazed with fermented cherry and berries with endive and a pigeon sauce- a nice final savory dish with good grilled flavor . Not mind blowing but certainly good 11) First dessert was a puffed sugar Mille feuille made to look like a sunflower, filled with a cream flavored with chestnuts, sunflower praline, and caramelized puff pastry- very tasty and a smart dish to use puff pastry to flavor the cream- was very tasty
12) final two desserts (one was a celebratory cake for my special occasion):
12a) the cake was fully edible (even the candle which was made of walnut oil). It was nice but could have had a bit more flavor and diversity of texture 12b) An edible butterfly, this was the best dessert. The wings were crunchy and acidic with a perfect snap and the body was light and creamy with a good acidity- as nice to eat as it was to look at. Was filled with beeswax cream and cherry.
Great meal overall!

I wasn’t invited to my best friend of ten years sweet sixteen
I(17) female wasn’t invited to my best friends sweet 16 and I don’t know what to do.
Me and my friend let’s call her Laura have been very close friends since second grade. We’ve always gone to eachothers birthdays, had sleepovers, our families are friends and everything was great until recently.
One day one of my other friends(aria 16) came to school worried that she had lost her ring that was inherited from her grandma, and said it might still be at Laura’s house. I was confused because I hadn’t seen Laura outside of school recently but figured it was the two of them hanging out, so I didn’t think much of it. Later when we were having lunch someone said something about the weekend at Laura’s birthday. I and my friend amariah(17) were confused because we didn’t know about this party and we are close with everyone who was there. We kinda let it go and moved on, but ever since then there has been events where we just weren’t invited.
A few months later everyone got together, this time amariah and I were invited but no one really acknowledged us at all while we were there . More recently they were planning a trip to the movies and once again we weren’t invited, there was a group chat and everything but we weren’t a part of it, even when they were talking right in front of us. Later Laura asked if we were coming and amariah and I said we weren’t really invited, Laura said that we should have said we wanted to go. I did want to go but I didn’t want to invite myself.
Once again there was a party that we werent invited to and only found out about through another friend the night, at this point we have had enough but don’t really know what to do.
I also want to add when we are hanging out together everything seems good and everyone has a good time so I’m just confused why amariah and I wouldn’t be invited, especially when we are friends with everyone else at these get togethers.
We have tried subtlety bring it up but it always gets dismissed and then amariah and I feel like it’s all in our heads.
I want to know what’s happening I don’t want to risk my friendship with Laura and all my other friends.
Any advise is appreciated!

I'm visiting Chicago this weekend and there's a lot more international food options here than where I'm from. I'm on the hunt for Dak Galbi. The full experience with marinated chicken, cheese, rice cake, cabbage, noodles/rice, and sweet potato. More than just the appetizer version. If there's a place that lets you grill on the table that would be great too!
This is one of my favorite dishes I had when visiting Korea and it's impossible to find a spot in the Midwest that makes it. I really appreciate any recommendations!