I have childhood traumas. One was from my maternal family where your figure (meat sac) was constantly compared with others in your generation.
As a UK size 8 at 16 I was told I was "the fat one of my generation" and "there's always one fat one". I wasn't. But I felt huge. And it had been constantly said for years before this.
There was also a period of time between 16 to 18 as I tried to navigate school but was homeless with no money. I Sofa surfed my way through it.
My first, but brief marriage was to an alcoholic and domestic violence man. I never experienced sex without violence during this period. I also had a carving knife to my throat, ended up in hospital needing an operation and losing a baby due to a particular savage attack. That's when I begged to move in with my mum and I did.
I'm not going to talk about my childhood SA. But that's also a factor.
My father was a SA and caused my mum so much stress and upset I'm surprised she coped as well as she did. At times her behaviour was horrendous but now I get it.
So when I met my PA I was infatuated. He shared all my values. He was genuinely affectionate. He cared. Put me first. Had eyes only for me.
I disclosed my trauma. I needed him to KNOW I needed to be the only woman.
Fast forward 33 years and I find our he's been using porn for the last 23 years or more of our relationship.
He also did so much more than simply porn. But porn was the snowball that led to other addictions and years of integrity abuse.
He told me recently when asked what was it about them. He used the same searches and had a specific type. In his words they were: Younger, had flawless skin, more energetic, tighter ass, firmer boobs.
I asked him because for 9 months I had every aspect of me physically on this list. I needed to reduce it for my own sanity.
Naturally once you know the list it hits harder. Not that it didn't hit hard previously but there was always the what ifs because of the unknowns.
I have been devastated by all of his actions.
I tried explaining that I was (being generous) a 6/10 and they were a 10/10.
I reiterated something he knew. I needed to feel desired by him, only him to counter act my body issues from childhood. It was the only thing that made any difference.
His therapist described looking at the 10/10 women as dreaming of having an expensive sport car. That you wouldn't want it in real life. I hate this because we all know if a man came into millions he'd buy one of those expensive sports cars.
So now I'm lower on his sexual arousal template. But he had turned his back on porn and all other fixations to focus only on me.
But he's watched 100,000s of porn videos. 1,000s of thirst traps etc. All who had better bodies, all who gave him his sexual desire to M to O. Not me.
But that's okay because he didn't want them in real life. That's what I'm told. But it's not how I feel at all.
I lived through abuse while he did this. I lived through 5 years of no sex while he did this.
I am struggling to accept being 2nd place. Really struggling. To the point of panic attacks last night.
He tried to tell me I won overall as he loved me. But you have to compare like for like nor add in addition points to get you out of the dog house.
He tried to complement me by saying things like I had sexier knees. Wow. Never had such a complement like that low before.
He tried to make a move last night. First few minutes I was OK. Then the feeling of being 2nd hit me. And I knew deplep down I've never accepted 2nd place.
I appreciate there's always going to be more beautiful women and men. I do not consider myself to be the most beautiful.
But you don't need to look at their curves and M to O for 23 years though.
So I feel gross. I hate how my body feels. I hate how it looks. But most of all I hate how he made me 2nd by feeding his PA for so long.
He's never been 2nd. I committed to him.
But I am, always will be and it burns my soul and broke my heart.
I dont know if a person can recover from feeling like this. I dont know if I'd survive if he ever slipped up.
We are both in therapy.
What do I do? How do I continue in this relationship. Is it possible?

I’m almost 33 years old soon and I’ve never been able to go out on a date because I have a 100% rejection rate from women. Throughout all my high school, college & work years I’ve never been able to make it past the friends stage.
I know this is primarily due to my looks (I’m pretty ugly & bald with bad skin and a bad head shape) but also due to the fact I’m incredibly short at 5’1.
Nothing I’ve tried has worked and I need more desperate measures. Doing this surgery + a hair transplant might make me look more normal and more likely to be seen as a romantic/sexual prospect than purely a platonic one.
Please share your thoughts. Thanks

This chapter was too long to post as one, so I’m dividing into two parts. Apologies for it being a bit disjointed.
On Thursday morning, after Luke left early for work and Brooke went for a run, I removed from Brooke’s closet the the gossamer jacket I had worn to the Ren fair and put it into the trunk of my Prius along with the canvas shoes and white tights that had completed my humiliating “Little Foot Page” costume. I dared not disappoint Anna a second time.
Fortunately, I didn’t have any punishment writing lines to complete after I cleaned her and Paul’s apartment on Tuesday. Brooke didn’t force me to wear any new feminine accessory that day. She was so fond of the choker that it had become an almost regular part of my daily attire.
As she kissed me goodbye that morning before I left for campus, she fingered the choker and my neck, saying, “I like this on you. Maybe I’ll order another one with a subtle little ring on it.”
I often couldn’t tell when Brooke was joking or not.
“You mean something where someone could attach a leash? Like a slave collar? Please, Brooke. This is bad enough.”
“No, it wouldn’t have to stick out like that. I said ‘subtle,’ didn’t I? The ring could be flat against your neck. That style is very common. It’s sexy. But I do think we can get you a proper collar to wear at home. I’m thinking leather with silver studs and a nice ring in the front. That one will definitely stick out. Luke and I will look for something on-line.”
Again, was she joking or not? She gave me her full, dimpled smile as she spoke, but that didn’t tell me conclusively one way or another. Nevertheless, her smile, her touch and the nature of the conversation all conspired to cause my liberated cock to grow hard in the lace panties I was wearing under my khakis. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice, so she wouldn’t lock me back up; several hours later, I was wishing that she had noticed.
Except for regular cleanings, and one or two supervised, humiliating releases, I had been locked up pretty consistently over the previous 2 1/2 months. Therefore, I truly enjoyed my freedom most of that Thursday. I had an almost incessant erection, fortunately mostly concealed by my khakis (which were looser than most of the pants I was permitted to wear), even while waiting in line to get Neil’s coffee and while walking across campus in a light snow to bring it to his office. The phrase “microaggressions” had become trendy on college campuses such as mine, referring to insensitive comments people make that are discriminatory or insulting, often even without intending to be. As I knocked on the door to Neil’s office, I thought to myself how I was being subjected not to microaggesions at my college, but rather to microhumiliations. Such as fetching Neil’s coffee.
“Come in,” said Neil, through the door.
Remarkably, seated in the one chair across from Neil’s desk was Paul Betz. Yet again! Alarming and suspicious. Or was I simply being paranoid? Neither of them made any effort to get up from their seats.
I was holding the cup of coffee in a paper bag. Feeling like an idiot, I placed the bag on Neil’s desk.
“Thanks for the coffee, pal,” Neil said, as he removed the cup from the bag. “It’s a bit cold.”
“Sorry, it’s snowing out there,” I replied, absurdly, as if it was even remotely somehow my fault that his coffee wasn’t hot.
“No worries. I’ll warm it up in my microwave. Paul and I were just discussing some swimming techniques. Paul’s team has a big meet this weekend. Is it okay if I catch up with you later?”
Paul looked up at me with an arrogant smirk. I thought to myself: how much strategy could there possibly be to discuss? You jump in the pool and you swim.
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
And just like that, I was dismissed. The coffee boy had delivered the coffee and was no longer needed. Why should I care about suffering this microhumiliation in front of Paul, who a few hours later would be subjecting me to any number of macro humiliations? Simply because he was gaining even greater knowledge about me, the nature of my relationships with others in my social circle and the breadth of my submission. Knowledge is power. More knowledge about me, more power over me. Nothing good could possibly come of it.
Paul was his usual arrogant self in class that afternoon, and it was clear that he, Anna and Kelly were all in exaggeratedly good moods, no doubt savoring the thought of interacting with me under radically different circumstances only a few hours later.
Anna was wearing black tights, a short, plaid skirt and black ankle boots. She propped her feet up on the desk in front of her next to Paul’s and said, “Oh, look how dirty my boots are from all the puddles of slush.”
Paul added, “Mine too. Fortunately, our shoeshine boy will be visiting later.”
Kelly sitting two seats to their left, giggled and said, “The cold weather makes me ravenous. What’s for dinner tonight, Anna?”
Anna grinned and answered, “Beef stroganoff. Our shoeshine boy is also an excellent cook, supposedly. A real Renaissance boy.”
“Not a Medieval boy?”, said Kelly. She and Anna both laughed.
Scanning the room, I didn’t believe the other students were picking up on all of the innuendo (or, if they were, I didn’t think they understood what it meant). Nevertheless, one serious female student, not part of Kelly’s clique, looked at me as if to say, “Why are you letting these clowns do and say whatever they want? Why don’t you take control of your classroom?” How I longed to do just that, to put the three of them in their place with some witty remark, as I would have done in the past. The pain of Paul’s spanking on Tuesday still fresh in my mind (if not on my bottom), however, I bit my tongue and timidly began my lecture.
After class, I went to the grocery store to purchase all of the ingredients for Anna’s prescribed menu of beef stroganoff, Italian green beans, and a starter spinach salad with warm bacon dressing (she had even directed me to her preferred recipes on-line — I had tested the salad and dressing on Brooke, with positive reviews). I also purchased the two bottles of not inexpensive red wine specified by Paul.
When I arrived at their condo, holding multiple grocery bags, my nemesis doorman was lying in wait for me, like a snarky Cerberus dressed as a bellhop. My underworld was eleven flights up, however.
“I’m going to apartment 11B. Paul Betz.”
“I have to announce you. Who should I say is calling?”
“The cook. Please tell him the cook is here.”
He spoke into the intercom phone, smirking at me, “Mr. Betz. Someone calling himself the cook is here to visit you. Although I’m pretty sure it’s the same guy who announced himself as the maid on Tuesday. May I send him up?”
Still holding the phone, he then addressed me: “Mr. Betz said they are expecting the maid, not the cook. What should I tell him?”
I sighed. “Please tell him the maid is here.”
“Mr. Betz. He is now no longer pretending to be a cook, but has announced himself as the maid. Very good, sir, I’ll send him right up then.” He put down the phone, his expression more smug by the second, and said, “You may now go up. The elevator…”
I interrupted him. “I know perfectly well where the elevator is, thank you.”
He stopped smirking to glare at me with annoyance for a moment, before resuming his smirk as I entered the elevator with my shopping bags.
When I got to their door, I got down on my knees and waited. Behind the door, I heard talking and sporadic laughter. They only kept me waiting about five minutes that day, and fortunately I was spared any encounters with Paul’s and Anna’s neighbors. It was during those five minutes on my knees, staring down at my cock pushing out my khakis, that I came to the belated realization that it probably wasn’t a good thing to be free of my chastity cage in the circumstances in which I then found myself. As I continued to wait, a sense of panic began to set in, which paradoxically only increased my arousal.
When the door finally opened, I was greeted by Kelly. I was eye level with her short, blue skirt. I looked down at her sheer stocking-encased legs and black, strap-on heels before looking up at her grinning face. She had been wearing jeans in class, but had obviously dressed up for the exciting occasion of being served dinner by her submissive professor. I have not really described Kelly’s appearance much before now, other than to say that she is attractive. Kelly has shoulder length, thick, brown hair and sort of a button nose. She is slender, but not as tall as Anna or Brooke. I would describe her more as cute than truly beautiful like the other two. However, by “cute,“ I don’t want to suggest that Kelly isn’t sexy. She is, but more in a teasing, playful way than the regal Anna. Sometimes it’s those cute, playful ones that you really have to watch out for, I was to learn.
Generally speaking, it occurred to me that, on the cusp of turning 40, I was surrounded by – and subservient to – a number of meaningfully younger people, most of whom were well above average in the looks department. There are a lot of overweight Americans – more in Ohio than in the Northeast, I thought (I’m sure Neil would have said that observation was still further evidence of my elitism) – including a lot of overweight students on my campus. For whatever reason, however, I was this bookish, unathletic guy now surrounded by athletes (Luke, Paul, Anna, Kevin, and even my one contemporary in terms of age, Neil), or fitness freaks (Brooke) or the generally attractive people who they chose to associate with (like Kelly, Laura, and Brooke’s estranged friend, Michelle). Growing up, my social circle tended to consist of the less attractive – the geeks, the nerds, the social outcasts. So, being surrounded by the cool, beautiful people was new for me, and exciting. So much toned, taut young flesh. Of course, I was not, nor am not now, their equal. Not even close. I’m their servant, their lackey, their toy. But that’s part of what makes the dynamic so exciting, so arousing. For me, certainly. But also for most of them, I believe (Brooke excepted; I am confident that there is a lot more depth to our relationship with each other, than to our relationships with all the others).
As I looked up at Kelly, these thoughts running through my head, I consoled myself that at least I wasn’t being subjugated, teased and tormented by physically repulsive people. Remembering Brooke’s advice to go with the flow, I tried to tell myself to be grateful for small favors.
“Hi, Professor Rollins!“, said Kelly, brightly.
“Hi, Kelly,” I sheepishly replied.
“Oh, come now, professor. We’re not in class now. I think the proper way to address me here is Miss Kelly, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, Miss Kelly, of course.”
“You may enter,” she said. Seeing Paul behind her, I remembered to shuffle on my knees into the apartment, bags in either hand.
Paul said, ”What time do you need to be home tonight, Rollins? Where are Luke and Brooke?”
“Thursday night they almost always go out, sir. If you recall, that’s why we picked Thursday evenings for me to…to come here. Luke is taking Brooke out to dinner tonight at a restaurant near his house. The earliest they’ll be home, I think, is around 10:30, unless they decide to spend the night at Luke’s. I’d like to be home by 10, just to be on the safe side, sir, if possible,” I replied.
Kelly said to Paul, “I like the ‘sirs.’ I see that you’ve been training him well.“
“You may leave at 10. That means we have you for 5 hours. Put the food away and then get dressed,” ordered Paul. Anna and Kelly’s boyfriend, Archer, were sitting on the couch in the living room.
“Wait a minute,” said Anna. “Did you bring your Ren fair costume this time?”
“Yes, Princess Anna.”
“‘Princess?’ I really like that. Call me ‘Princess,’ too,” Kelly said to me, giggling.
“Yes, Princess Kelly,” I replied.
Smiling with delight, Kelly asked Archer, “Do you wish him to address you as Prince Archer?”
Archer, who I later learned was Paul’s teammate on the college swimming team, said, “No, he can just call me ‘sir’.”
“You’re no fun,” said Kelly.
“Put on your Little Foot Page costume, professor,” said Anna.
“Hold on,” said Paul. “If he’s serving us dinner, shouldn’t he be dressed as a waitress? Or as a maid? What about the pink uniform Chrissy wears? That’s sort of a waitress maid hybrid,” Paul explained to Archer.
“Or what about the Hooters uniform?”, asked Archer.
“But the Little Foot Page uniform is so cute!”, said Kelly.
Anna said, “Well, everybody seems to have an opinion. The only way to settle this democratically is through a vote. Let’s all write down our top choice on a scrap of paper and toss it into my baseball cap. There are three options and four votes, so there will be a clear winner.”
“I think he should model each uniform first, so we can make an informed decision,” said Archer.
“Great idea, Archer! Who doesn’t love a little, impromptu fashion show? Kelly, please tear up four pieces of paper and get a pen while I show our dear professor where we keep Chrissy’s uniforms,” said Anna.
I listened to this rather extraordinary conversation while still kneeling in the entrance hall. I had managed to will my erection down, at least partially, so had escaped detection for the moment. Obviously, this was only a temporary victory, however.
After being permitted to stand, I first put away the food and then followed Anna upstairs into the dungeon. She opened a closet and pulled out two plastic bags that she draped over the spanking bench.
“Here are the other two uniforms you will model for us. I want you to start with the waitress uniform. Make sure you wear the black stockings and the heels with the dress. And the cap. There are hairpins in the bag you can use to make sure that it doesn’t fall off your head. Once you’re dressed, we’ll be waiting for you in the living room. I expect you to walk the length of the living room, stand before us, curtsy, do a slow 360, face us again and curtsy a second time. Then walk back up here, put on the Hooter’s uniform, and repeat the same steps. Remember to put on the flesh colored pantyhose; they’re what really make the Hooters uniform, don’t you think?”
I had never darkened the doors of a Hooters before, but nodded my ascent.
“Well, the pantyhose along with the white socks and sneakers. You didn’t bring those, did you?”
“No, princess. Besides the shoes I’m wearing, I only brought the canvas shoes I wore to the Ren fair. As you commanded, princess.”
“All the more reason the Hooters uniform just won’t cut it tonight. But we have to humor Archer, don’t we? So, wear your canvas shoes with it. You’ll look preposterous, but that’s the point, I suppose. Right?”
“Yes, princess.”
“You’ll finish with your Little Foot Page uniform. The same steps. That’s my top choice, so make sure that you really sell that one. I’ll be watching closely. If you fail to do any of the steps I just told you, or don’t do any of them satisfactorily, I’ll ask Paul and/or Archer to take you over their knees and spank you, hard, 10 times for each mistake. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Princess Anna.”
She left me in the dungeon to change. Paul’s description of the first uniform was accurate. Imagine a pink maid’s uniform, with a V-neck, black collar, black buttons and a black apron. It came with a matching cap, pink with black trim. After putting on the dress, I rolled the sheer, black stockings up my legs and smoothed out the skirt, my fully erect cock still concealed for the time being beneath it. The short skirt only came down to my mid thigh. I then put on the heels and the cap, fumbling with the hairpins, and regarded myself in the mirror. I was dressed like a fetishized waitress in a retro diner. Could I look any more ridiculous? As I practiced curtsying a few times in front of the mirror, I answered my own rhetorical question.
Worried about keeping my students and Archer waiting, I descended the stairs and followed Anna’s instructions, listening to the strange sound of my heels clicking on the hardwood floor of the living room.
As I curtsied before the four of them relaxing on the couch, Kelly giggled with glee and Paul said, “Now that’s an appropriate uniform for dinner service.”
“It is, yes, but we see Chrissy in it all the time. A little variety is nice,” Anna replied.
As I went through my steps, I watched Anna hold the same little book they had used to record my shortcomings in cleaning – my demerits as they called them – and make notes in it with a pen. That couldn’t be a good thing, I thought to myself, although I was quite certain that I was following her instructions to a T.
After I did my 360° turn, I did a brief second curtsy, as Anna had ordered, but she stopped me as I was turning around to go back upstairs.
“Wait, professor maid. Curtsy to us again, but this time make it a deep curtsy. I want to make sure that you’ve been practicing.“
I did as she commanded, bending my legs, one behind the other, lifting my skirt with my hands and holding the dipped, bowed position for a few seconds before straightening back up.
“What do you think?”, Anna asked Kelly.
“Not too bad for a relative novice, I suppose, although his technique could definitely use some work,” said Kelly.
“Do you hear that, professor maid? You need to spend a lot more time practicing your curtsying. Also, you’re walking in the heels better than on Tuesday, but you’re still pretty unsteady. We expect our servants to be graceful,” said Anna, imperiously, as she made additional notations in her little notebook. “You need to practice walking in heels somewhere besides your time here with us. We do not tolerate on-the-job training here. Got it?”
“Yes, Princess Anna. I understand.”
“Good. Move along now. We need to decide on your uniform so you can start serving us cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.”
I hurried back upstairs as quickly and gracefully as was within my power and changed into the Hooters uniform. I put on the nude pantyhose first, my cock distressingly hard beneath the transparent nylon. So much for further concealing my liberation from chastity! Freedom can be a dangerous thing, I was to soon learn. I next put on the U-shaped, white T-shirt with the big orange letters, the two ‘Os’ doubling as eyes for the owl. The shirt was tight against even my flat chest; I could only imagine what it must’ve felt like to the well endowed women for whom the shirt was designed. Next, I pulled up the skimpy, bright orange shorts, hoping like hell that they might hide my erection. They did quite the opposite, in fact. Made of some synthetic fabric, they were incredibly snug and almost looked like a bikini the way they rode up the side of my legs next to my crotch. The shorts hugged my small balls, the outline of which was readily apparent through the fabric, my cock making a small, but unmistakable protrusion above them. As humiliating as the waitress uniform was, this was worse, I felt. I groaned as I observed myself in the mirror. I then put on my canvas shoes and descended the stairs to begin another degrading catwalk.
Archer laughed and clapped. “Thats fucking hilarious. Look at the loser!”
“Ha ha, look our professor has a little stiffie,” said Kelly, pointing at my crotch and snickering.
Anna said, “Oh, my God. Paul. She’s right. Look! They must’ve taken off his chastity cage.”
Paul said, “Well, this opens up all kinds of new possibilities, doesn’t it?”
“It most certainly does!”, agreed Anna.
This conversation, so intensely humiliating, resulted in my already hard cock twitching beneath the tight orange shorts, growing harder still.
Kelly said, “But he doesn’t have any boobs. What kind of Hooters waitress is that? At least Chrissy is growing boobs, thanks to the hormones.”
As I was curtsying, Paul asked, “What happened to Chrissy’s breast forms?”
Anna answered, “We let her throw them out after she started growing her own tits.“
“Too bad,” Archer replied.
Anna added, “And the whole outfit just doesn’t work without the white tennis shoes and socks. Also, our Hooters girl forgot to do her second curtsy.” As I turned back around to comply, Anna added, “No, no professor pantywaist, it’s too late now. That’s another demerit, I’m afraid. Now hurry along and model your last outfit for us.”
I scampered up the stairs and quickly changed into my Little Foot Page costume from the Ren fair, the one inspired by the Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale’s painting, a favorite of Brooke’s. How I wished at that moment that it was her I was dressing for instead! The short, nearly transparent jacket barely concealed my cock, jutting out shamefully through my white tights.
Remembering Anna’s insistence that I really “sell” this outfit, I took special care to complete each step to the best of my abilities. I held my back straight and practically pranced into the room and across the living room floor. I held my curtsy longer than usual, somewhere between the duration of a regular curtsy and a deep curtsy.
Both of the girls applauded, gleefully.
“See. The foot page costume is adorable. And it’s unique,” said Kelly.
“But pages don’t serve dinner. Pages do all kinds of other things for their masters, like clean their clothes and shoes, help them get dressed, deliver messages, and so forth,” said Paul.
“Oh you’re such a stickler for authenticity. I’m sure plenty of pages served their masters and mistresses meals as well. They were utility servants, and I’m sure did whatever was required of them,“ said Anna. “Besides, with this uniform, we have the best view of his hard, little cock. Look, it’s fun size!“, she added, pointing.
“With equipment like that, it’s no wonder that his wife cuckolded him,” chuckled Archer.
“From the look of him and his attitude, I’ll bet Luke is hung like a horse. Is that true, professor baby cock?”, asked Anna.
“Yes, Princess Anna,” I answered meekly.
“Look how red his face is!,” said Kelly. “We’re not embarrassing you, are we, professor?”
“Yes…I mean no, Miss…I mean Princess Kelly.”
“Okay, it’s time to vote,” said Anna.
“Why bother. We all know which one will win. Archer will vote for Hooters, I will vote for sissy waitress, and you and Kelly will vote for this silly page costume, inappropriate as it may be,” said Paul, sulkily. “So, the foot page it is.”
“Oh, goody!”, said Kelly, clapping her hands together with delight.
“Time for cocktails! Take everyone’s order,” Paul said to me sternly, seemingly still annoyed that he didn’t get his way.
Paul and Anna had a well equipped bar, so making the drinks was relatively easy. Anna insisted that I curtsy after serving each person. I, of course, would’ve felt ridiculous curtsying under any circumstances, but felt particularly so dressed in my page costume. Paul had a point; there was something incongruous about it. After serving them, I began prepping for dinner in what was truly a chef’s kitchen. The meat needed to simmer for a while to be sufficiently tender.
Anna had shown me a little brass bell that they would use to summon me for drink refills or anything else they desired. I heard it jingling about 20 minutes into my prep work and hurried back into the living room.
Paul said, “Archer and I are ready for refills.”
“Yes, sir.”
“From now on, curtsy every time you enter or leave a room any of us are in, and every time any of us gives you an order,” Anna interjected.
“Yes, princess,” I said, curtsying as I took their glasses.
By the time I returned a few minutes later with Paul’s and Archer’s fresh old fashioneds, curtsying again, Anna was also ready to for new martini. Of course, by the time I returned with her martini, Kelly was finally ready for her second cosmopolitan. Would this ever end?, I wondered. How would I ever have time to prepare the rest of dinner?
Fortunately, rather than request a third old-fashioned Paul said to the others, “Let’s go for a swim.” I was back in the kitchen working when the four of them left the apartment to take the elevator down to the building’s large indoor pool. Things got more interesting about an hour later when my young superiors returned to the apartment in their bathing suits.

First. Previous.
‘Ri woke up in the hotel room to the sound and smell of cooking meat, as well as what she knew to be pancakes. Opening her eyes, she looked ‘down’ to see Kyle cooking on the small grill he packed with him in his subspace shadow, one of his near-silent air purifiers directly overhead, as he was using wood to cook with; the smell of fire-grilled meat was making her ravenous, and it was with a happy stretch that she sat up, Kyle turning to smile at her.
“Morning, beautiful,” he said as she smiled back, “Figured I’d make you breakfast-in-bed; we got dragon steak and eggs - chicken eggs - and I just got done with a bunch of dragon bacon. Pancakes were done a few minutes ago, and I’ve been letting the butter melt in; syrup’s over…” he looked around, spotting a metal container that looked somewhat like a drink pitcher. He set all of this down on a large tray, which he carried over to her, setting it down on the bed lengthwise between the two of them. He went back to the table he’d been working at to retrieve plates, flatware, and two glasses, floating a pitcher of what turned out to be gor’ahm juice, a sweet - yet slightly tart - berry that grew on verem’jiose, and also cost quite a bit, as it was difficult to get enough berries to mass produce, so it wasn’t ‘readily available’ outside of her homeworld.
All-in-all it was a rather enjoyable breakfast - whether or not he had any ‘professional’ training, Kyle sure did know how to cook. After they were done eating - and Kyle had moved their dishes over to the kitchenette their room came with - they took a shower, taking their time in the hot water, just enjoying each other’s presence. When they were done, they dressed in the robes that came with the room - they had gone with black all around - and went to sit together in the main room, putting on some soothing music as they sat together, tails and arms wrapped around each other. After a while of them just sitting there, Kyle stirred slightly.
“I, uh… I got a surprise for you.” He sounded a bit nervous as he said it, but she put that to the side; surely he was just hoping she’d like whatever it was. He smiled slightly, and said,
“Close your eyes.”
Doing as he asked, she shut her eyes, knowing full well that whatever he was ‘retrieving’ was in his subspace shadow, but she went along with the act. When he gave her the okay, she opened her eyes, and it seemed like her stomach dropped out from under her heart, and into oblivion; there in his hands was a thin, perfectly square - but not ‘cubed’ - black box. She looked up at him, unable to say anything, as he opened the lid, and she let out an involuntary gasp; it was difficult for her mind to process what she was seeing, as it appeared to be a round piece of the void cut out to look like a tiara. Or, at least it looked like the shape of one, seeing as she couldn’t really make out any details, though there obviously were details carved into it, as the little sparkles of what she knew to be black hole diamonds - she had seen the pendant Kyle had retrieved from the pirates - seemed to appear and disappear, depending on what angle she looked at it from. The big 8-point star in the middle - reminiscent of the shape their pupils took when observing peoples’ life-blood, and Gift - was always visible however, no matter the angle it was viewed from.
“I had to have Kay’Eighty sketch out the basic outline of where to cut to fit you,” he said, drawing her out of her stupor, “And I had the lead sehr’chtahb fit the diamonds on it, as part of the payment for bringing back the pendant, along with the diamonds themselves, of course. The actual tiara is made from the bone of the first dragon I killed, and I used the kath’loo’s Gift to turn the bone so black that it absorbs all light. I had to turn the bone behind the diamonds silver, because there’s only so much that refraction can do.” They both gave a little chuckle at that; finally, he pointed to the inside of the tiara.
“And here I put a strip of crysthril all the way around it,” she knew that he’d gotten the Gift from one of the sehr’chtahb before they’d left the planet, “Which you normally wouldn’t need, seeing as you’ve got a literal ton in your subspace; but this is different. While we can’t transfer our Gifts to anyone else, we can transfer them into the crysthril, and it stays enchanted with the Gift, no matter how much of it you use. It’s basically limited by your own power, and how much of each Gift was put into the crysthril. Right now, this has all the Gifts that I have right now, and I can always add more in later, when I get ‘em… So, will you wear it?”
The last part was said with a palpable level of nervousness, and she was unable to say anything at that moment. After a few seconds, she finally was able to nod her head yes, tears leaking down her face. Kyle’s face lit up in a wide grin, and she saw his eyes shimmer with unshed tears as he reached forward to grasp the tiara, showing her how to disconnect it at the sides. She leaned her head forward as he reached up to put it on for her, it fitting snugly not just around her head, but perfectly resting around her horns, so as not to be squeezing them, nor to be loose, and wobbly.
She reached forward, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss, too happy to actually say anything; they sat there for a while, basking in their shared love, until she started getting a bit antsy. Kyle obviously noticed this, as he laughed, and said,
“Go look; I know you’re just dying to see it.”
After a smile, and a quick kiss, she ran into the bathroom, looking into the mirror, marveling at the dazzling headpiece that was now her’s. She sat there for a good few minutes, turning her head this way and that, admiring the craftsmanship Kyle had so lovingly put into it. It honestly looked like something a professional jeweler would be proud to call their own work, and she reveled in that fact as well. This was a testament to his love for her, and it was done through Kyle’s own handiwork; and where it wasn’t, it was small enough to excuse away, especially with having had the diamonds placed as payment for his actual work.
Eventually she was able to tear her eyes from the beautiful piece, and she returned to Kyle’s side, both of them grinning like children. After a few minutes of making out, and cuddling, Kyle insisted that they get dressed.
“I know you wanna show that off, and we can go look around the shops, see if there’s anything that we want. Then we can grab lunch somewhere, and later we can have dinner with your parents and ‘Lana. Tomorrow I’m gonna go back to the ship and get some brisket started up; Kohr’Sahr and the others’re gonna be here in a couple days, and I wanna have a party when we give them the news.”
“Do they know?” she asked.
“About me proposing? No,” he replied, “About everything else? I gave ‘em a brief rundown, but I didn’t go into too much detail. The suun’mahs representative got in touch with me yesterday: the broadcast is gonna come out later today, and anything that they need cleared up after that, I’m happy to be the one to tell ‘em… You’re sure you’re okay with them posting your general location to the public? I don’t want you to have to deal with any ‘fanclubs’ from back home.”
She smiled warmly at him, running her fingers through his hair.
“They’ll know that I’m taken, and that they have no chance; anyone who tries anything after that, no one will blame us for… teaching them a lesson. Besides, they already know not to bother me if they see me abroad; the secrecy was just an added measure.”
He bowed his head concedingly, as he got up, pulling her to her feet with him.
“Come on,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth, “Let’s get dressed.”
She got dressed in a simple black pleated skirt that came about ⅔ down her thigh, along with a teal button-up shirt. Kyle was wearing his black and red pants, with a silk purple shirt; he had decided to forgo his boots. Kyle applied a simple light layer of purple eye shadow, and simple black liner, with a reverse of that on his lips, having purple liner and black filler. She went with the same pattern, except she used a luscious red in place of her natural purple. Once they were ready, they were about to head out when she thought of something; she held out her hands, and pulled a certain large, flat box from her subspace shadow. Smiling, Kyle opened it, and gently removed the necklace he’d bought her the last time they were on this station. After he’d secured it in place, she dismissed the box, and they left the room arm-in-arm.
The payoff was near-automatic, as it only took as long as getting into the elevator before they encountered another person; this one turned out to be none other than the Captain, as the station leader had put the entire crew up in the station’s best hotels, save for a decent amount of the security, all of whom had gotten to leave the ship last time they were on this station. As soon as the doors opened, they saw her standing next to what appeared to be a golden drahk’mihn, with horns that protruded from his forehead, sweeping back over the top of his head, only to slightly curl upwards just as they reached the back of his head. He wore light blue shorts, and a matching vest, while the Captain wore her customary jacket; her eyes widened when she saw the two, going straight to the tiara on her head.
"By the Gods, man; do you do anything normal?"
"Define 'normal'," Kyle countered, which brought about a round of laughter.
“Were y’all gettin’ off?” Kyle asked, hooking his thumb over his shoulder; the Captain cleared her throat,
“Well, that’s really none of your business,” she replied, to more laughter, “But we can take another ride, either way.” She had barely taken her eyes off the tiara the entire time, much to ‘Ri’s delight. As Kyle pushed the button for the lobby, Golden asked how Kyle had made it, to which he obliged, occupying the time it took them to reach the ground floor; the Captain couldn’t keep her eyes off the headpiece the whole time, at which ‘Ri couldn’t help but smile with pride.
After they reached their floor, they bid the other two farewell, at which point the Captain seemed to remember herself, and gave a hasty - yet obviously sincere - congratulations to the two, which Golden echoed. After thanking the two, they disembarked the elevator, ‘Ri acutely aware that the Captain was still staring at the tiara, even without looking back at her.
The rest of the day passed in a similar manner, with the general crowd around them either going silent, or - less common, but still frequent enough to be noticeable - lightly gasping; all eyes were on her, which made her smile and cling to Kyle’s arm all the more. It was funny: she had never really cared about ‘tradition’, and had always simply wanted someone who saw her as her. Sure, there were several ‘high-born’ men who’d hunted dangerous beasts - even to a drahk’mihn - to turn into tiaras, all of them trying to ‘win her hand’. But none of that had ever mattered, no matter what they’d hunted, or whether they’d used their Gift, or not; none of them even knew who she was, so their efforts meant nothing, but whatever standing they could achieve by marrying ‘the girl who stopped the war’.
But here was Kyle, a man from another species entirely who saw her as a person, in a way that no non-insectoid ever had in her entire life. A man who’d had no problem whatsoever showing his anger at her - very much deserved, she had to admit; that was a rather rude wake-up call - before he really even knew her, not afraid to call her out on any toxic behavior she might display. And who had taken the fruit of his labors to produce a symbol of his commitment to her, fully embodying the true symbolism of the traditional way, not by simply trying to impress her by buying her affection, as the others had. And for the first time since she was a little girl, she felt a distinct pride in that tradition, and all the more love towards Kyle for it.
They didn’t really have any place in particular that they had in mind to visit, simply walking around, enjoying each other’s company, and the reactions of the various passersby. Among the obviously astonished expressions, there were quite a few jealous ones on a few of the women they passed by, which brought her no end of satisfaction; not that she had anything in particular against any of those women, it just felt good to have something that others wanted so badly. And though she doubted that many of them actually wanted her man - whom she still valued more than the headpiece he’d given her - what they wanted was a product of his work, and so either way - whether they knew it or not - it was him that they wanted; too bad for all of them that she’d gotten her claws in him first, and she was never letting him go of him again.
She had made sure of that, seeing as he could now issue orders to the Captain, and change protocol on a whim; she had also gotten him to give her authorization to take a shuttle planetside if she deemed it necessary, though he’d made her promise to exercise that authority only in cases of an actual emergency, and not for a small ‘threat’ that he could obviously handle. They had come to the agreement that the wild cats from Cheshire’s homeworld were the cutoff point: anything much bigger than those were enough to warrant her presence on the planet. She didn’t really like even that, but she had to agree that at that point it was almost insulting to his own abilities, especially since he had plenty of Gifts to help him out, including her own.
At one point, they were passing by a furniture shop when they spotted her parents and ‘Lana going in; it was her sister who noticed them, calling out,
“‘Ri, Kyle; hi!”
They both smiled and called back in greeting, waving as her parents turned around, their faces immediately breaking out in smiles as they saw the two of them; the looks on their faces - coupled with not a bit of surprise - told her that he’d already shown them the tiara, not that she minded. If he was going to show anyone before her - aside from those who helped him create it in the first place - she could accept her parents being the ones, and ‘Lana by extension.
They spent around an hour walking around the shop - Kyle having to encourage them to pick out the more ‘luxury’ goods - as her parents picked out a new mattress for their bed, along with a few comfortable chairs. They all went their separate ways, her and Kyle promising to meet up later for dinner together. As they had just come back from eating themselves, they went to do more shopping - Kyle reminding them not to worry about the price of anything - while she and Kyle went to go find somewhere to eat.
They decided on a unique shop setup, wherein there was an herbivore side, and a carnivore side; both were technically their own shops - separated by a wall, and everything - though there was no problem with an herbivore sitting with carnivore friends to go nextdoor to get a plate made, and bring it over, or vice versa. They decided on sitting in the carnivore section, and Kyle would go over to the herbivore side to get a bit of roughage for the both of them. After they had taken their seat - the keen’yhong waitress staring in awe at her tiara - Kyle excused himself to the shop next door; after he’d left her line of sight, she immediately got up and hurried to the restroom, eager to get another look at herself in the mirror.

Vohr’Sin - a light blue drahk’mihn with horns that curved back, down and around, so that the tips pointed forward, just under his ears - was having a bit of trouble, as the restaurant was currently too full to seat them.
“There’s nothing you can do for the drahk’mihn ambassador to the humans’ system?” he asked jokingly, “She should be on her way any minute.”
“Sorry, sir,” the black gah’rahtoe replied to him, his face showing genuine regret, “It’s the lunch rush, right now. You’re welcome to wait for someone to finish up, if you like.”
“No,” he responded, “She had to skip breakfast this morning to attend a virtual meeting, so I doubt she’ll be up to waiting… Well, thanks anyway.” As he turned to find somewhere else to eat, he nearly walked right into another person; it took him a moment to realize who it was.
“My apologies,” he said, “I should have been paying more attention to where I was going… Forgive me for bothering you, but aren’t you Ambassador Redding?”
The human was easily recognizable, the ‘scars’ across his face and the horns - which the Empress herself had expressed to his wife were not to be commented upon - that were in a very unique shape. Personally, he wasn’t too comfortable with the human getting a pass at imitating their race - especially Kah’Ri’s horns, of all people - but if the service that he’d provided to their race by coming up with the idea of how to find the slavers was enough for Empress Ella’Ven to excuse it, he had to accept it, as well. The man was carrying a tray with a few plates of vegetables on them, including two baked tass’guds.
“I am,” the human replied with a smile, “Sorry for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation: if you like, you can come sit with me and my fiance; we’re out celebrating our engagement.”
“Oh,” he began sheepishly, “I really wouldn’t want to intrude…” but the human waved him off.
“I’m sure it’ll be no problem; you know how women like to show off their jewelry. It’s just us, so I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, I can answer any questions your wife may have about humans, and any social customs she might need to be aware of. Well, any that I know of, anyway.” He finished with a slight chuckle, and Vohr’Sin was torn between not wanting to intrude, but also not wanting to insult the Ambassador by refusing; it was at this time that his wife Vir’Ell walked up.
“I see you’ve met the human Ambassador, love.” He turned to see the yellow-tinted woman that he’d pledged his life to, wearing a light purple tube-top, and matching shorts. Her slender horns swept backward, ending halfway down the back of her head, pointing down.
“I’m Vir’Ell,” she said, directing her attention to the human after exchanging a kiss with Vohr’Sin, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you, as well,” he replied, “I was just telling your husband that y’all can join me an’ my fiance, if you like. We just got engaged this morning, and I’m sure she’d just love the chance to show off. Of course, I don’t wish to interrupt your own time, if you’d rather eat alone, but it seems that we took the last free table, here.”
“That sounds lovely,” she replied easily, lightly squeezing his tail with her own, “I look forward to meeting your betrothed.”
The human - Kyle, as he asked them to call him - led them inside, and over to an empty table, where they all took their seats.
“I’m sure she went to freshen up,” he said as they all sat down,
“So,” he continued as they all settled down, “I hear you’re on your way to Sol?”
“We are,” Vir’Ell replied brightly, “Several factors have come together to convince the Empress to send an envoy to your system; the two biggest factors being - of course - your own contribution to freeing those enslaved, but also from the fact that even through the outcasts of your society, it is entirely obvious that humans had nothing to do with the enslavement of our people. There are obviously other reasons - ones that she wishes to keep close to her wings - but she has decided that humans will be the first race to whom she will reach out a hand of open friendship. Obviously, this will have to be taken slowly, but we’re hopeful that this could open new avenues of trade and friendship that we’ve been so sorely missing all these years.”
“Well,” Kyle began, “I hope we can come together as peoples, especially since our introduction to the wider galaxy came about in quite similar circumstances.”
“Yes,” Vohr’Sin replied seriously, joining the conversation, “That is something that we - as separate races - can relate to, you more so than others, I’m sure. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to endure the mahn’ewe’s captivity, and I commend you on your mental fortitude to be able to make it through all of that relatively unscarred. I won’t claim to know how you’ve dealt with it since your escape, but the fact that you came out of it without any noticeable xenophobia is exemplary.”
“Yeah, well,” Kyle began a bit darkly, looking off to the side a bit as his mind wandered those detestable halls, “I’m kinda used to misfortune, and holding it against those who brought it on, specifically. As a matter of fact, the mahn’ewe look human enough that it doesn’t even translate the same when looking from even the drahk’mihn to them. And everyone else just looks like ‘humanoid animals’, or ‘insects’, so it’s less of a comparison to the mahn’ewe, and more so towards our own myths and legends. And I guess I can’t really complain about my lot in life, ‘cause if I hadn’t been abducted, it’s likely I never would’ve met my future wife… Who seems to finally be done admiring herself in the mirror.” This last part he raised his voice slightly, obviously addressing someone over Vir’Ell’s shoulder, who was on Vohr’Sin’s right side. Before they could turn to look, a surprisingly familiar voice rang out, the smile audible in her voice.
“Can’t you go anywhere without ingratiating yourself with whatever drahk’mihn may be in the vicinity?” Looking around at the woman who had just walked past them to sit next to Kyle, his heart seemed to stop in surprise, both at who was talking, as well as the tiara she was wearing; and looking at her now, he fully understood why the Empress had directed them to ignore Kyle's choice in horns. Kah’Ri Mih’Rell wrapped her tail around Kyle’s waist - even as he wrapped his around her - and even hooked her right wing on his right shoulder, a wide grin on her face. On her head was what appeared to be the void itself, elegantly wrapped around her head, twined gracefully over her horns so as to appear as if the void really had inserted itself onto her head.
“‘Ri,” Kyle began, obviously enjoying their reaction just as much as Kah’Ri was, “I’d like you to meet Vohr’Sin, and his wife Vir’Ell; they’re heading to Sol, as she’s been appointed the Ambassador to humanity.”
“Oh,” she replied, obviously surprised, “I honestly didn’t expect that, though I suppose Ella would have ample reason to reach out to humans, of all peoples.” Obviously it was common knowledge that the Empress had taken Kah’Ri in when she’d lost her own parents, but somehow it had never occurred to him to imagine anyone being ‘close’ enough to her to call her by a nickname.
“I’m sorry,” Vir’Ell cut in, “But that tiara is absolutely stunning.” Mixed in with the pleasure at such an extravagant praise, there was an obvious strain of pride in their faces as they both grinned, Kah’Ri leaning closer to Kyle.
“Thank you,” she replied, “He made it according to tradition.”
“You made that?!” he couldn’t help but exclaim, causing them to smile even wider, “From what? I recognize the black hole diamonds, but the material that the rest of it is made of…”
Kah’Ri gave Kyle a knowing look, and - still smiling - said,
“Show them.”
Kyle gave her a conceding nod of his head, and fiddled with the small monitor that was strapped to his wrist. Soon enough, a small hologram appeared on the table between them, depicting Kyle in a strange white tree, looking down at a - comparatively - giant red reptile of some kind. There was a seemingly one-sided conversation where he was obviously speaking with the razum’yilahn that was partially wrapped around his neck, the rest of their body disappearing beneath his shirt. They were still able to catch the gist of what they were saying, mainly that he couldn’t kill that creature until they were sure it wasn’t sapient, which would require them going into its mind.
What followed was an epic battle between man and beast, his uplifted canine companion joining the fight once it was clear that it was indeed a fight. And though it fended off any attacks the canine - Cheshire - threw its way, it seemed intent on finishing the one that had invaded its mind. It eventually had Kyle pinned on his back, both claws - and most of its weight - braced on the staff of the spear he wielded, while Cheshire continued to draw its attention. One such attempt resulted in the reptile shifting its mass, causing one of its paws to slip off the staff, producing what would obviously eventually become the tattoo across his face, though his eyes were destroyed beyond repair in the process.
He managed to catch the claw back on the staff again - obviously using the razum’yilahn’s eyes to operate - soon after which a shuttle appeared, its door open, and what looked like an automated weapon hanging out the side. It fired once, catching the reptile in its backside, and doing little more than making the beast angrier. As it hissed at the shuttle, the weapon fired again, and caught it in the throat, opening up a shallow cut, which Kyle wasted no time in exploiting. Bracing the staff between the arches in his boots, he reached down and drew another knife from his boot, and quickly used it to open the cut wider, rolling out from under the monster to avoid the spray of blood. As the hologram cut out, Kyle began speaking.
“I used the skull plate to grind out the tiara itself, though I had to use nanobots to carve out the clasp to hold the two pieces around her horns. The diamonds were a reward for returning a pendant to the ory’lagus who run the black hole mining company, and the sehr’chtahb who originally crafted the first black hole diamond shaped and set ‘em for me, and I used the Gift I took from the Kath’Loo who was holding her father to change the bone so that it absorbs all light; I also had to turn the bone behind the diamond - and every flake of diamond dust - to silver, to have some light reflect back.”
Vohr’Sin was quite taken aback by everything that had gone into making that tiara, and he was beginning to see possibly a bit of what Kah’Ri must have seen in him in the first place. He was only just realizing that Kyle hadn’t seemed phased to have seen a drahk’mihn; which now it was obvious as to why, but it should have been something that he noticed when they first met. Perhaps it was the horns, and his eyes, of course; another thing the Empress had instructed them to ignore. He was also acutely aware of how… desirable that course of events made him.
“Goddess, man,” he said, putting an exaggeratedly jealous arm around Vir’Ell’s waist, “Save some for the rest of us.” That got a good laugh out of the table, shortly after which their waitress showed up to take their orders. Luckily, they all knew what they wanted, and they were soon talking back and forth, sharing anecdotes from their home world, and asking questions about his. They learned a few things that weren’t easily discernible by simple study of their culture through text, or even video. Kah’Ri stayed quiet, mostly, letting them do all the talking about Verem’Jiose; probably since she had been - intentionally - absent from there for so long, it wasn’t like she would have any idea of more recent news, or trends.
All-in-all, it was an enjoyable lunch, with the time slipping by as they ate and talked the meal away. Towards the end of the meal, the women excused themselves to the restroom, and while they were gone, he took the chance to ask Kyle about the possibility of being allowed to hunt one of those lizards himself, as Kyle had informed them that he owned that planet.
“Well,” he began after a bit of thought, “If you do hunt one, you’ll firstly have to do it without your Gift,” that took him by surprise, but Kyle didn’t stop there, “You also have to fight without any kind of ‘modern’ weapon. Which is mostly just saying that you can’t use guns, though nanoblades are not only acceptable, but also needed. And I’ll even make sure that you’re supplied with some mithril to use, as well. And just so you know: not only will you have a guide with you at all times to make sure you stick to the rules I set out, but they can see if you use your Gift.”
He flexed his eyes for a moment, having already explained how they worked - as far as he knew, anyway - to them earlier, when they revealed that that was why Kah’Ri’s eyes were red, instead of purple.
“I understand,” he replied seriously, “I wouldn’t want to disrespect your world.” Kyle nodded once, saying,
“Well then, I think we can work something out. If y’all’re gonna be here for a couple days, I might be able to get in touch with someone who can set up a way to get you there ‘n back.”
“That would be most appreciated.” As Kyle nodded his acceptance of his thanks, an idea came to his mind.
“You know,” he started in a conspirator's tone, “Before we left home, I managed to get my claws on a crate of krav’ashah wine; it’s a ‘luxury’ berry on Verem’Jiose, as it’s hard to farm, and doesn’t produce a very high yield, even when done correctly; aged twenty years. I would be willing to gift a couple bottles to the two of you, in celebration of your engagement.”
Kyle smiled knowingly, and replied with,
“Well, that would also be much appreciated; I’d definitely owe you a lot… You know, the ory’lagus gave me a lot of extra diamonds, not just enough for ‘Ri to make my circlet. Once you get the piece you wanna make for Vir’Ell, I can shape and set a decent-sized one for you.”
“I think we have an understanding,” he said, smiling.
“As do I,” Kyle replied, a smile of his own on his face.
Their other halves came back shortly after that, and after they all said their goodbyes - he had insisted on paying for the meal - he made his way back to the ship with Vir’Ell, already planning the shape of the new tiara he would be carving for her. And while the one he had bought her would always be special to him - a simple golden band, with a blue diamond in the center of her forehead - he wanted to make this one even better; perhaps he could find a way to incorporate her old one…
[Next.] Patreon

I’m sure there a lot of people who think they have the worst MIL, and I’m one of them ! This is a (long) rant and also I’m looking for some insight and advice bc I truly have no idea how to interact with this women.
Just a quick run down : I have been told she is bi-polar and unmedicated. Only 2/5 of her children talk to her. She has no relationship with her other grandchildren or great grandchildren. Twice divorced, 4 different baby daddy’s, home wrecker- her last husband was very successful and when they divorced she went for all he has and now he owes her I believe 300k a year … and She is notorious for making a scene.
When I started dating my now husband he always told me his mom and how she’s bi-polar and nasty and unpredictable and will probably end up hating me at one point bc she hates her sons partners. So I immediately was skeptical of her and wanted to spend as little time with her as possible. The first few times I met her it was brief and went fine. There were a few weird times like we were at her house once when I was pregnant and I was napping in the guest room and she came in and accused me of going through her closet. Or she fed our dog people food and then told me to clean the floor bc he was so messy. Or when one of her sons was accused of SAing his own daughter she called her own granddaughter a whore.
When I got pregnant My husband had said he never wanted her to spend a lot of time with our son so she doesn’t ‘sink her claws into him’ and just being generally unpredictable. She was surprisingly really excited for our son and it made my husband feel like she has changed, he thought after all the shit she has done and in her old age she has changed and convinced me she has as well. He said she doesn’t have much time left and I should give her a chance. I was open to the idea, especially bc my family isn’t much involved and if she wanted to love our baby then I would let her.
I’ll start with the build up of events. When our son was born they thought we would have complications so I gave birth at the children’s hospital and he was in the NICU for 4 days. We had our dog with us and my dad was watching him but had to go back to work and we didn’t know how long we would be in the hospital so we asked my MIL and she said no bc he has too much fur so our dog slept in our car for 4 days. Then we got home with the baby we would FaceTime her. She told us, via FaceTime, our home was too cold. It was not, it was well over 70 and we had a fireplace that was always going. It was December in the mountains and I hate being cold, the house was not cold. My MIL emailed her ex husband (who really hates hearing from her) telling him our house was too cold and he needed to call us and make sure the heat is on. So he calls us explaining she emailed him and we need to turn the heat on. The heat was never not on, I can literally pull up on excel our heat use. Anyways. My MIL wanted to see our son but we lived in the mountains and it’s hard to travel in the winter so we met her somewhere kind of in between. She got us rooms at a really cool hotel and there was hot springs and I was 6 weeks PP and excited to soak. So we go down, we get our rooms and ours is bigger than hers bc there is 3 of us including a baby. She immediately wanted our room and we couldn’t really argue bc she paid but I mean with a newborn we could have really used the extra space. Things were going okay. She was really excited but something I found really off putting is she was walking around the hotel saying it was her baby then introducing my husband as her son and when you totally ignore me. She kept saying “my baby” “my baby doesn’t cry when he’s with me” “everyone loves my baby” I told my husband its weird and he ignored me. She continued to blatantly ignore me or talk over me. I felt frustrated and again told my husband who said I was being a selfish only child. So my husband and I go to soak in the hot spring that was 2 minutes away from the hotel. Our son is asleep, has plenty of milk (my supply was strong then) and everything he could need. We really enjoyed ourselves and it felt so good on my body to soak in the hot spring. We went back to the hotel and knocked on her door. She open the door with our son in her arms and backed into the corner. She started pointing at me saying I’m a drug addict and she is taking out son and we will never see him again. I am absolutely shocked and sit down bc I can not register what is happening. My husband goes to grab our son and she steps back and he now has to tower over her demanding our son and takes him out of her arms and hands him to me. Unfortunately my reaction in this was freeze, I stood there in shock and she ripped my engagement ring off my finger that she gifted me as an heirloom and we left. We cut off contact and my husband said he has seen her do some fucked up things but that was insane. I was 6 weeks PP with a newborn, a first time mom, I felt traumatized. My milk supply dropped after that and we kind of struggled emotionally with what just happened. A month and a half later our dog who was only 2.5 was struck by a car in front of us bc a tourist was driving too fast. Another traumatizing event and my milk supply then dried up and I was really sad about it bc I loved nursing. I was then 3.5 months PP and all of this has happened. We ended up leaving our home after all that in search of a new chapter.
By Mother’s Day my MIL had reached out to my husband apologizing which I guess was a big deal bc she has never apologized to anyone before. To me, it was literally the least she could do and I’m not celebrating her for having a human emotion. She then offered to buy us a house. Okay I know what you’re thinking - what ?! She offered my husbands inheritance early if we wanted to use the money to buy a house. It was a pretty appealing offer given we were looking for a home in the worst housing market ever. But obviously I’m so skeptical and do not think it’s a good idea to accept this from her. My husband says she’s old (79) and probably dying soon so we should just accept the offer. But then we would have to open up to her seeing our son again. I hope it’s understandable how uncomfortable this all makes me feel. We talked to a friend who is a real estate agent explaining our circumstances and honestly we asked if she bought the house outright and her name is not on the title or deed or anything except the fucking wire transfer she would never be able to take it from us. So we took the offer from her and bought a house and it was really easy bc we bought the house outright.
I definitely knew the repercussions of this and it got weird fast. She started just showing up at our house unannounced, then would be offended we weren’t ready for her or hosting to get standard. It would be like 10am, still in pj’s about to eat breakfast and she would show up and criticize how we looked and call us assholes. Always telling me what my baby likes and doesn’t like, giving age inappropriate gifts like lollipops and toys for 5 year olds. Every time she leaves she makes a comment about taking out baby. Expects us to host and cook for her but she never eats. She bought a house down the street but didn’t tell us till after the fact- then later pulled out and lost all that money.
Anyways, so my husband invited her for thanksgiving and he told her it will be lowkey, we aren’t doing a big meal just an easy lunch and relaxing. We have asked her to please let us know when she’s leaving so we can expect her, she lives about an hour away. Well she didn’t, she showed up around 9:45am- my husband was out running errands and I had just put the baby down for a nap. I was not dressed, hadn’t eaten yet and still had to tidy up- all things I usually do when it’s nap time ! So I answer the door already annoyed and she is dressed up and said “what you weren’t expecting me?” Yes I was, but I thought I’d have a heads up ! Then she asked where the baby was and I said he’s napping and she said why is he napping when you knew I was coming !! 1. Morning naps are crucial 2. I didn’t know when she was coming but that doesn’t matter bc baby’s nap schedule is #1. She came in and i said I’m going to get dressed real quick, baby is asleep in his room please do not wake him up. So I got dressed maybe took me 2 mins and I opened my bedroom door which is across from the nursery and I saw my MIL in my babies room playing with him, she smiled and giggled at me and left his room. My baby is now obviously up and I’m so fkn annoyed. So I brought the baby out to the living room to her and continued to brush my teeth, do some dishes and eat breakfast. Now I admit at this point I was so annoyed and didn’t know what to do bc if I expressed that I knew she would lose it and if I didn’t say anything so would lose it. So I chose not to say anything and continue on with my morning as I do when the baby sleeps bc that’s my time to get ready and clean. Finally my husband came back and as soon as he walked in my MIL lost it saying I’m so rude and nasty that I haven’t spoke to her for an hour (she had been there for 15 mins) and she’s concerned about our baby who is so out of it and not smiling (he was woken up from a nap he needed). She denied waking him up then got mad at my husband for not defending her waking him up. I said he’s teething we were up all night and she said I always have excuses. She then left and as she was pulling out of our driveway said to me, “now I know why your mom doesn’t love you”. I have a difficult relationship with my mom, that one cut deep. So she left, from her arriving to leaving was maybe 30 minutes. Then my husband was furious with me, that I should have just played the game bc it’s so much easier than actually dealing with her. She proceeded to text my husband saying I’m a horrible parent, my baby is only happy around my husband and we set her up.
The most common advice I get is suck it up she bought us a house. Of course I’m grateful but I can not act normal around her and I hate when she’s around my baby. I don’t know what to do, I’ve considered this being a deal breaker and leaving my husband. I have tried to play along but I simply can not and it makes me uncomfortable and I’m worried about the safety of my baby.

My husband (M21) and I (F21) have been together for a few years. We have a great marriage and we love each other so much. There’s one issue that we’ve been having consistently, and I don’t know what to do about it anymore.
My husband grew up watching porn and unfortunately once we got together, it didn’t stop. I wasn’t aware of this until we were engaged and in an extremely serious relationship. The first time it happened, he came to me and talked to me about it. He educated me on the harmful effects porn has on the brain and we both got on the same page of it being disrespectful to get off to the other sex when in a relationship. The only thing he didn’t tell me was that him watching porn was an ACTUAL problem. I was not aware that he watched it consistently until AFTER we got married and started living with one another. 🙃
With that said, he has had a relapse and I don’t know… After dealing with this for a few years, this time feels different for me. I actually feel betrayed. I was, of course, upset all of the other times, but this time, I feel it in my chest. It’s in my head and all I can imagine is his head falling back with pleasure while masturbating to these women he watches. I feel extremely disrespected and I think it’s so bad this time because we’ve had a child. Despite going to the gym six days a week and working my butt off, I have came to terms with knowing that my pre-pregnancy body is gone. I am a woman now and I’ve had a child. I’m no longer a teenager. I’m working on myself and I’m losing fat and gaining muscle. There’s nothing I can do to look like the women he watches other than putting myself through surgery - which is NOT something I am willing to do.
I’d also like to say that I’m very aware that “body positivity” is everywhere now. Everyone seems to post their risqué photos on social media and porn is so heavily promoted and normalized so I know it’s hard not to run across things like that. But to LOOK IT UP on his own accord is just heartbreaking. He has photos AND videos of me and still chooses to lust after other women. I don’t understand and wonder if it’s ME. Am I not pretty enough? Am I really lacking THAT MUCH? I’ve asked him these same questions and he denies it. He reassures me so heavily that there’s no one else like me. That he loves me SO VERY much. He reassures me and even before he told me about the porn, he STILL did that. I just don’t understand why he watches it. Before we got together, I always read dark romance. Dark romance has a TON of smut, but the moment we got together, I put it away. I really enjoy reading and I’m extremely mindful of what the books I read have in them. I avoid all erotica and if there just so happens to be a page or two of smut, I ALWAYS skip over it because I don’t want him to feel betrayed in any way.
I just don’t know what to do anymore. He was the one who brought the whole subject of porn up. He’s the one that told me how much he hates it and how it shouldn’t be watched, but especially when you’re in a relationship or marriage. Like, HE said those things. And yet here we are… I just wish I didn’t care, I wish I never knew about it in the first place.
If anyone can share what they did when they were in a similar situation or can just validate my feelings, please do. I need some kind of advice because I am just devastated. I don’t know what to do anymore.

I really like this show except for one thing. When they show surgery being performed I have to look the other way. To me it's very realistic and it's like being in an actual operating room. On the bright side it has taught me to be very appreciative of the men and women who actually do this wonderful work. From the scrub nurses to the neurosurgeon these are true heroes who do this every day in an attempt to help others. May the good Lord bless and keep all of you!

I've pretty much decided I need to backtrack on the social side of my transition for my mental health, because trying to be a woman when I don't look the part has been bad for my mental health. It's just exhausting to see people tripping all over themselves to gender me she/her, while still otherwise seeing me as a man, and it's exhausting to feel like I'm expected to use the women's restroom when doing so would just make other women uncomfortable. My only tie to the gender identity of "woman" is that I'm female, in a transsexual sense, so I don't even think I have a "gender identity" of woman so much as a "goal of making myself into a woman."
If being trans still meant having dysphoria, then I'd still be trans since I have dysphoria, am continuing HRT, and may pursue surgeries to fix certain things if I'm ever less poor. Since being trans has been redefined to mean "having a gender identity that differs from ones assigned sex" though, it seems like this means I'm no longer trans.
I probably wouldn't have been calling myself trans outside of Reddit anyway, since the whole point is kind of to get away from this stuff in real life and just be a person. I do find it kind of funny though that in the quest to include everyone and their grandma under the trans umbrella, people have ended up defining some dysphoric people out of being trans. Now I'm seeing a kind of snarky humor in flairs like "dysphoric man" that I hadn't before, so I went ahead and updated mine to show that I'm just a man with dysphoria instead of a trans woman. 🤷‍♀️

Sylvia and Fabienne looked at Ellie, lying face down on her bed, sobbing her heart out.
They hadn’t been unsympathetic women when alive, and when they first realised Ellie could see them, and thus help them find peace, they had been overjoyed.
But Ellie had bigger problems than seeing dead people.
Ellie was ugly.
She had been an ugly child and had now blossomed into an uglier young woman.
She started seeing dead people after getting her periods, and her bulbous features began to settle, while her skin flared with hormones. Compared to that, Sylvia and Fabienne, both murdered in that house, held no interest.
They told Ellie their stories, hopeful she could redress those terrible wrongs. Sylvia was killed by a husband, and Fabienne by an impatient adult son, but Ellie, too busy crying over something grandma had said, or her unrequited crush on Tom, the neighbour’s son, or the look of dismay in her father’s eyes whenever he caught sight of her, had no time to avenge ghosts.
Fabienne looked at Sylvia. “We have to befriend her.”
Sylvia nodded. They went over to the sobbing Ellie. “Darling-” began Sylvia.
Ellie sat up, her face distorted and red. “Not now” she gasped. “Leave me alone- I told you-“
Fabienne said “Ellie- cultivating a pleasing personality- engaging in interests other than your self – “
Ellie gave a howl of distress and flopped back on the bed. Sylvia shook her head at Fabienne. “This is brought on because her aunt suggested she should volunteer at the senior care home seeing she had so much free time on the weekends- and her cousin said that’s not fair to old folk”.
Fabienne frowned. “Atrocious, how young people behave.” The two ghosts contemplated Ellie’s shaking shoulders.
The Fabienne said “Ellie, that was awful, what your cousin said. He needs to be taught a lesson!”
Sylvia murmured. “We could haunt him to death, my dear. Just say the word, and he’ll be jumping out of his bedroom window in the morning.”
Ellie rolled over and looked at the two ghosts hovering over her, eager to please. Sylvia had a bruised twisted neck from being strangled by her husband. Fabienne’s mouth was covered in frothy blood-flecked foam from the poison her son, now a successful businessman with her money, had given her.
“We could suggest Tom ask you out. We have very, ummm, persuasive methods,” continued Sylvia.
“No-one will ever ask me out- no-one-” wailed Ellie.
“Nonsense!” said Fabienne briskly. “Plenty of women with way worse looks attract perfectly amiable husbands! With all this modern surgeries and make-up!” she snorted “you’ll have a beau in no time!”
“Especially with help from us!” said Sylvia, smiling so widely that her lips seemed to travel and join her bruised neck. Ellie shuddered.
“All we need from you- point some people in the right direction about our murder. Then your cousin problem and Tom problem will be solved!”
Ellie paused, then nodded. Then she got out of bed.

So, I'm pretty certain I'm being too touchy and dramatic with my decision, but let me explain myself first.
I have poured my heart out for three years as a dedicated bass drummer in my marching band. My senior year, this year, I was really hoping to be fielded as a tenor, since I have literally been practicing for three years now. I know for a fact I am not a bad player, because I am taught by my local college's drumline instructor, and they are honest with me in their assessment of my skillset. I am aware however, that more goes into an audition than just skill. I have committed myself entirely and been a positive role model for the younger band members, I have NEVER ONCE missed a practice or a game or a competition.
I have never been rude to anyone, I usually keep to myself a bit but I am just not an unkind person. When I auditioned, my percussion instructor told me that due to a resolved eye issue I had surgery for, I am not reliable and I cannot be trusted to show up (never once missed any event, scheduled my surgery for the off season to not interfere with my band schedule). I was told by the band director I am "expendable" and i am "not suited" for tenors, when I am above average height and I am strong enough since I have been working towards this for three years. I can most definitely handle it physically and skill-wise with three years of drumline.
Both of my band mentors are very religious men who hold a bias against women, which has been shown in the past with their callous treatment of the few female flatline members of our band in past years. It's heartbreaking to me that after all that, I am passed up for someone who did NOT want the role, they pulled a newbie snare drummer who did not want to play tenors and selected them. It's disgusting to me because I had to fight to get recognized at all for the work I put in, and they didn't even have to try, they didn't even try to begin with. They never practiced for tenors, and still do not practice since they were selected. They do not care to learn our fight song or the stand tunes expected of our band for the season.
I have all of our warmups and stand tunes memorized. I am now expected to teach the person they chose on a whim, and I refuse. I will not teach someone they handed over the expensive practice tools I was NEVER offered when I showed my full commitment, they did not ask or want it and they got more help than I ever did as a male percussionist than I will ever receive as a female percussionist. They don't care to fix their technique, and I am a senior bass drummer with no hope of ever getting the pride of marching our tenors, despite our past (now graduated) tenor being the one to teach me everything, I feel led on that I was allowed to even try if there was no real shot of me ever getting tenors.
I used to really enjoy music and I spent a ton of free time looking over show music and other stand tunes our band didn't do just to expand my experience and enjoy drumming. I can't make myself care about it anymore, I wish I did. I just don't.
Because of all that, I'm fed up with marching band, and I think I've had enough for the rest of my life, but I'm uncertain if this is a stereotypical and unreasonable reaction to not getting the position I wanted. It's not so much that, but how I was treated and disrespected instead of just saying no.

Hi Fam. I am beyond curious as to know your thoughts on the cast of baddies and BGC gals on their surgeries? It's crazy to see the amount of work some women these days that risk it all to look... well.. fake and look like the next one. I don't have social media to know all the gossip as to find this out. I come across winter (bgc16) on here to see her with fucked up veneers. Please guys let me know what you think of this. Peace

I need to vent a bit about the horrid dating environment in India. Guys who open up to girls often get left on seen or unmatched. As a guy who values emotional intimacy over physical intimacy, dating has been tough. After aligning on values and attraction, opening up about my interests, I often feel heartbroken and rejected when women disappear from the chat.
It seems like many girls, despite claiming to seek long-term relationships in their profiles, are actually looking for something more casual and short-term. I'm tired of being the nice guy who plans dates and takes the initiative to get to know each other. The sad truth is that true love feels dead in a generation that lives at a fast pace, leaving those of us with open hearts in despair.
I'm exhausted from hearing that I'll find someone who will make me whole again. After so many rejections and heartbreaks, I feel irreparably broken. Even the Japanese art of Kintsugi couldn't fix what's shattered.
All of this leads me to believe that it might be better to live a life devoid of love and intimacy. We could fill our cups with brief moments of joy from short-term partners and numb ourselves to the pain when they move on. In the end, who is better off? No one, or the one who becomes numb while maintaining a smiling face on social media?

I was born to a family where my dad wasn’t really around, my brother was a drug addict and my mum spoke to the dead regularly. She’s a medium.
I couldn’t wait to take drugs, I started using when I was 12 - was on the hard stuff by 15 and drank very often- at least 2,3 times a week. Smoked strong weed daily. Took cocaine and mdma at a very young age.
I lost my virginity at 12. I never ever used condoms and slept with at least 50 women, some great looking, some were crackheads with no teeth (literally).
When I was 16 my girlfriend was 34, her daughter was 2 years below me at school and I was living the life from the film “that’s my boy”
I ended up in a life of drugs and crime. Selling, using, fighting, stealing, robbing - I was also a massive coward. I got knocked out often - and I mean I almost definitely have some form of CTE coming. I was put in a mental hospital on a bad acid trip where I robbed a shop and tried to steal loads of cars. I was regularly arrested but luckily no prison.
When I think of myself growing up, I am disgusted and shocked but I figure that it wasn’t really me, because I am not who I am in this moment.
I met my wife who convinced me I could be better, I got a job in the city and put my soul into it. I rose to the top of a sales career and earn way into the six figure range yearly. I am essentially about to takeover the company as a result. Alongside this; came tons of cocaine and binge drinking.
I genuinely believe that God told me to get sober and do MMA. Yes, cage fighting. I don’t know why, but once I asked myself when I was jogging if I believed in god and as I looked up, there was a glowing neon sign on someone’s house saying believe. I nearly fell over, I stopped running and almost cried. Now I believe that my dreams are his messages.
It has been almost a year since I have drunk or used drugs.
I trained mma for a while, got injured and am now sitting here post surgery. My wife just suggested that if I was to keep getting injured she would want me to quit. I can’t quit.
I’m way too old to become a pro, (I’m 32) I know that but something inside of me, or outside of me is telling me I need to do this.
When I think of my age, my wife, my health stopping me doing it - I literally want to just be swallowed up by the earth.
I don’t know why all of the above is relevant, I don’t even know what I’m asking. I have this sub here and I have no one to speak to about the above so here it is.
Before you hit me with it, I don’t go to support groups and I have been to therapy many times. It was nice but to be honest, despite all of the above I get the impression the therapists think I’m ok. I’m not so sure right now lol
My friends often tell me to write a book about my life because I’m just one of those people that everything crazy that happens happens in my life. Maybe I need a bit of crazy to reach my dreams

One of the most challenging situations we face is dealing with customers who damage our jet skis they rent. Whether it’s due to inexperience, recklessness, or just bad luck, damages can and DO happen. Here’s how I handle these situations to protect my business and maintain customer satisfaction.
Steps to Take When a Jet Ski is Damaged:

1. Clear Rental Agreements:
   • Detailed Contracts: Ensure your rental agreement clearly outlines the customer’s responsibility for any damages. Include specifics on what constitutes damage, potential costs, and the process for handling incidents.
   • Pre-Rental Walkthrough: Conduct a thorough inspection of the jet ski with the customer before they take it out. Document any pre-existing damage and have the customer sign off on the condition of the jet ski.
2. Security Deposits:
   • Collect Deposits: Charge a security deposit at the time of rental. This can be used to cover minor damages and serves as a deterrent against reckless behavior. This will also help cover your premium if an incident does happen.
   • Clear Refund Policy: Make sure customers understand the conditions under which their deposit will be refunded or withheld. I can't stress enough how CLEAR and simple this needs to be.
3. Insurance:
   • Commercial Insurance: Have comprehensive commercial insurance that covers damages to your jet skis. This can mitigate the financial impact of major damages.
   • Optional Insurance for Customers: Offer optional insurance for customers that can cover minor damages or reduce their liability.
4. Immediate Damage Assessment:
   • Post-Rental Inspection: Inspect the jet ski immediately after it is returned. Compare its condition to the pre-rental inspection documentation.
   • Document Damage: Take photos and detailed notes of any new damage. This provides clear evidence if there are disputes with the customer.
5. Communication with the Customer:
   • Calm and Professional: Approach the situation calmly and professionally. Explain the damage and the associated costs clearly and respectfully.
   • Provide Evidence: Show the customer the pre-rental inspection documentation and the photos of the new damage to avoid disputes.
6. Charging for Damages:
   • Transparent Pricing: Have a predefined price list for common damages, which should be included in the rental agreement. This ensures transparency and fairness.
   • Use the Deposit: Deduct the repair costs from the security deposit. If the costs exceed the deposit, provide a detailed invoice and discuss payment options.
7. Repair and Maintenance:
   • Timely Repairs: Ensure damaged jet skis are repaired promptly to minimize downtime and revenue loss.
   • Preventative Maintenance: Regularly maintain your fleet to reduce the risk of damage and ensure safe operation.

Handling Difficult Situations:

• Dispute Resolution: Have a clear process for handling disputes. This might include mediation or involving a third-party assessor.
• Legal Action: In extreme cases, be prepared to take legal action to recover costs. Ensure your rental agreement provides for this possibility.

Preventative Measures:

• Thorough Briefings: Provide comprehensive safety briefings and operational instructions before customers take out a jet ski.
• Limitations and Restrictions: Set clear rules regarding the use of jet skis, such as speed limits and restricted areas.
• Experience Verification: If possible, verify the customer’s experience with jet skis to assess their ability to handle the equipment safely.

Your Experiences and Advice:
I’d love to hear from other rental business owners. How do you handle situations where customers damage your equipment? Any tips for minimizing these incidents and managing them when they occur? Let’s share our experiences and strategies!
Looking forward to your insights!

I (23M str8) have a very bad relationship with my body. But It's very different from what I see in this sub.
I see my body not as "ugly" but as an instrument that does not work as intended: -i can't drive or ride a bike even if i put all my effort in doing this -I am short (170) balding and my teeth are ugly (extremly healthy, but with huge gaps and yellow) -My bladder has a malformation and I take pills for it but it gives me ejaculation problems (i need at least 24h, but 2-3 days would be better, to rest between two sexual intercourses).
My body does not help me achieving my goals, especially in dating and I hate it. I am considering surgery too, especially for my teeth since unfortunately I can't change height.
I need constant validation about my beauty and I look for casual dating and sex in order to get it. Then I feel bad bc women eventually use me only for sex (FwB and such) since I may be fetichized sometimes for my babyface but I would not be a good long-term partner since who wants a man-child who can't even drive?
As you can see it's very different from what people see their body there: I have no problems with myself but I rely on other people opinions since dating is an important part of my life.

Memorial day hasn't meant much to me since I first heard about it. And the only difference to this one was I actually with a love of mine on this day. My motorcycle. Sitting at a stop light with Her, behind me.
Paying attention to anyone behind me when the bike and I were in motion isn't generally where my focus lies but of course, I am always attentive whenever we approach a stop. As you expect, cars came careening towards my bike and I to form a orderly queue into the cute little outdoor mall we were all head towards. Carelessly glancing at my mirrors, I noticed a little SUV behind me slowing to a halt. All I really noticed was hair and vague faces as my brief attention is more focused on whether they were going kill me or not and not then not trying to overtly stare at them like a creep. They stop, and I figure I throw myself into my favorite new habit as an official new member of the 'owner of a motorcycle club' by waving at all the motorcycles as the pass me by, sometimes just flinging my arms like a disconnected npc only tethered by a pure soul. Through the frequency of life flowing through me that day, I felt it radiated through connecting me to my immediate surroundings. I felt as if everything within sight of me was in tune with my being so to say. Kinda felt like whatever decision I made next, could do no wrong. So, I decided to turn around and wave. While I was signaling other bikers, I had noticed that the heads of hair behind me had faces... lovely faces too, that were smiling. Its always nice to see smiles but It's never fun to assume there they're ever on the same vibe as you. You see, there's a certain level of composure I like to believe I still possess that is only confirmed when exercised....So what was the reaction of my kind wave? 2 waves back, with more nice smiles. Helmet on, visor up I bet anyone could see my dumbass grinning from ear to ear. Pretty great feeling that I wasn't expecting but I figured it happened, because I waited for a sign or signal.
So I doubled down and figured, hey if were both going to the mall, we should probably eat something, preferably.. TOGETHER! As we turn Into the lot, I yell*yes in a motorcycle helmet* Are yalling eating? But they didn't hear or it fell on uninterested ears. No worries. They kept driving ahead a little and I decided to park my bike to this really cool black bike the almost engulfed my entire attention span in that moment. As I was getting my footing to scoot myself into the spot, I noticed they had only got about 4 cars in front of me and decided to park.
Hmmmm... I thought to myself. First I didn't want to look back and I only did, because of a feeling or a sign... is parking this close a sign I should pay attention to? Well, if so, they hazard right? Why wont they.. *blinkblink blinkblink* ...........The hazards flash Now I thinking, Well who the hell am I to question life? And I rev'd over. I don't remember what I said but It must have not been that awful because I then got invited to go shop for anklets by 2 laid back beautiful, happy women. My heart dropped... How did they know? That I actually loved shopping for anklets on memorial day exclusively?!
We take a short walk and talk a talk and walk while exchanging names, and the story unravels from their side. They pulled up behind me and thought it was funny that I was waving at all the motorcyclists and from my visor being up, thought I was cute.*yo no se*Hearing this played back to me was funny and I tried not to look too deep into it at the moment because I was in it and felt there was more to it all if I just, existed in the moment. And this point I felt enough pleasantries had been exchanged and surface level reconnaissance to see if we were cool had concluded. Now was the time to lean into one of them with a more purposely directed level of romantic attention. I lightly asked what their availability for love looked like between them and the friend said they were married but kind of signaled/explained that her friend was available. My heart said Wow my brain? Relax, Don't be weird. Continue the journey. Giving all praise to the friend.. she explains how she suggested that her friend eat after I yell/asked about it, and it was her idea to turn the hazards on to let me know to come up to them. I'm a little stunned realizing how very lucky I was for her to be the manifestation of cupid in the most clutch way possible.
Finally, we arrived at the anklet store and.............. it's close. Awh shit. Well what do you do when you and your best friend can't get matching anklets on memorial day? You initiate the best friend suicide pact aahhhhhAHHHH!!! NO, no NO NO! nonononononononono.
You... go buy an adult beverage from across the street. I mean let's be honest, any day without matching anklets so a day that has been fucked. So far as I'm concerned and if we're walking on ice, we might as well dance. Getting a little sip during the day always seems to take a little off the tip of the devils dick. So we go drink. During this time we have a great exchange of who we( me, Her, and the friend) essentially feeling out if cool or not. Throughout this though, I can't help but to feel like I'm falling for this person I'm talking to. I could really get into the fine details of it all but I feel like that is special to me. In a book, I picked up a little philosophy about keeping some things to yourself. No one needs to know all the details, ya know? And I'm breaking that rule to a degree by sharing this story only because what happened afterwards was a ghosting on a level that I can't comprehend.
Weeeee leave towards their car and I kid you not, If I did not have this girl in my hand/near me, I would have have floated the fuck off into the air. I felt that feeling again, as if I could do no wrong. So after saying goodbye to her friend, She and I hugged and I looked into her eyes. There was a future that I was felt was being welcomed to be apart of, if I didn't fumble it. I had her number, she had shown interest from a stop light... don't push it I thought... but rather.. squeeze 'it'..?
I kissed her on the cheek... and we both smiled. Not thinking, I grabbed her hand and kissed it while looking into her eyes. She was a little taken back and said, No ones ever done that, You get points for that. I smile and said.. Hell, if you're giving out points , I'm a collecting. We exchange another round of pleasantries, and we part ways.
Crossing the street and looking both ways on shaky legs made me ponder if this what deer feel like when they're caught in the headlights. Nah, they weren't as lucky as me on this day.
As I'm gearing up to ride, She comes up to me from behind and informs me that her friend told her she shouldn't leave until we have a kiss. I agreed. Her lips were ineffable. And for momentarily, they had stolen what ability I had at forming them right from my mouth.
So they left and I left the immediate area to release a little bit of energy trying to learn how to do a wheelie on my bike in this empty lot. Little bit after I got kicked I text her to at least say how great it was meeting her and her friend.
She shares the same feelings and proceeds to share with me that us meeting eachother, made her day. I remember telling her I was sorry I didn't have anything clever to say after the kiss but she and time allowed me, that I would find the words some day to express how I felt. She gave me a nickname.. I told I would do the same but it would take some time so to be as good as the one she had given me.
That was day 1. The next day, I gave a good morning and good luck today kinda text. A nice receptive and equally reflecting message in return from her. Short and sweet, Good sign I thought. Later I figured, sense the circumstances of my job don't allow me to be in one place for too long, I should try and reach out try and plan something for us to have a nice one on one before I leave town, like a dinner. I truly just wanted to know more. The pace was going well so they was no need to rush....................................................... No response for the whole day. Now, I'm a bit confused. I try not to over think it and let it be. A day passes nothing. 2? Nada. I honestly kinda didn't know what to think after having a moment like that.. I did the regular protocol. Go back and review every little detail in my head to see where I misstepped and did something wrong. I even asked an older female friend. And they couldn't help me find a fault either. Then after a few close friends give me their possible rundowns of what COULD have happen, I kinda exhaled a little bit. And kinda let it go. One friend even joked saying that maybe she died in a car wreck.... I was not laughing... atleast not immediately. I understood why they would say such a thing to a friend in that moment.
SO I decided to reel it in.... and give it one..more... cast out in the lake of... her and As I write, I still haven't heard from her. And apart of me doesn't want to make sense out of it because it might ruin the mystique of romance. That moment is there as it was left until it reveals itself again, if it ever does.
I guess I'm sharing this because I've always believed in finding someone, out there in the flesh, while trying to make it in the world is something quite beautiful in life truly worth experiencing.
And because of that I never forget that love is always around us, waiting around the corner. Or at an intersection south of the Emerald City.

my understanding is that everything I'm experiencing is an expression of my internal state. not that I'm creating reality, but rather that everything already exists in some sort of information field where space and time are coordinates and I'm constantly choosing the spacial and temporal location my consciousness exists in/at/by (there's no good preposition for consciousness).
I can do this by just assuming I'm there but that can be difficult so I've learnt a few techniques like affirmations, meditation, visualization, sigils, dancing, singing, rapping.
I now have no technique. they're not techniques but rather tools.
the first time I truly felt like I could manifest stuff was when I did a meditation and visualized my girl best friend telling me "it's green hat day! where's your hat?" whilst wearing a green hat day. I saw 20+ green hats that day.
I tried again the next day with yellow hats and saw 15 yellow hats in 2 hours like I visualized.
This is when I realised there's some sort of link between my mind and reality. This is also when I was the most worried that it's all just coincidence.
I then tried to manifest getting a high score on a test I didn't study for. I got 21%. Bit more than I could chew and a series of horrible test results followed as well as a lack of ambition academically.
but during this period I noticed many other things manifesting easily. discounts at shops, texts from specific people, more women, a fully-funded trip overseas, specific cars showing up blah blah blah.
little, inconsequential shit (apart from the trip) being made manifest in mere seconds.
one day I was freestyling iver a rap beat with my roommate just laughing and rapping about how women love us and always wanna hang out w us just for jokes. during and after the rap we got multiple calls from these girls we'd been hanging out with and we hung out.
okay so rapping works? wtf?
I found as many beats as I could and spent all night making simple repetitive rap songs about specific things I wanted, ("Rings here, rings there, rings everywhere" coz I want an Audi. I've only been seing this one specific Audi since).
I did this all night til I was tired but carried on rapping and it felt like my consciousness shifted to some other place. Like for a brief moment I was sitting at a different table having a different conversation. As soon as I noticed, my consciousness shifted back it was very trippy.
I'm 19 in Uni just trying shit coz I know there's something to this, but I want to KNOW there's something to this.
like I know reality is an extension of me and you and all of us but I need something akin to Gnosis and want to maintain it throughout the day coz when I slip into that feeling I can bring things in and out of my reality instantly, predict the next few seconds, make an Uber ride free for no reason etc.
coz I've been able to do some amazing things with little effort, there's this sort of desperation to master it but I also realize it's not a skill to master but an already occuring occurrence already occurring.
I'm swimming in a sea of my beliefs and the techniques don't change the direction of the water, but rather the direction I go in relation to the direction of the water.
that's why some things manifest so easily and some so seemingly difficult. coz some just go against the flow of my genuine beliefs and even if I do change directions, the flow continues until a strong but smooth wind comes in from above and changes the direction and flow of the water (my beliefs).
hmm. maybe I'm a sailor in a big sea being taken by the flow but I can also change the direction the wind blows, I just didn't know it yet. and my time would be better spent focusing on the using the wind (techniques and tools) to change the flow of my beliefs.
sorry for the unstructured rant, but it helped me express parts of my journey thus far and present the results to myself.

3 or 4 weeks ago I started to get vulvar itching, I took flucozanol and it didn't work. Then, a little over a week ago I started to feel incredibly tired and nauseous. I went to the GP on Thursday, they took a swab and we are awaiting results, but she also wanted me to get some bloods done. I mentioned that I have had bleeding after sex for the last 6-8 weeks or so and she said that if the swab came back clear and the bleeding continued I would need to get a colposcopy. I am obviously grateful I have a very good GP (women's health specialist who oversaw my referals for diagnostic surgery last year), but could this all be endometriosis related? I have had these symptoms before, particuarly the nausea which I had for months on end firstly before my first period started and also on and off between the ages of 17 and 19, and was given an IBS diagnosis and told to stop being so anxious. I had a Staph A infection alongside thrush last year (pre-endo diagnosis) that took 3 months to get diagnosed. I also have had the bleeding after sex on hormonal contraception before (restarted after endo diagnosis in October last year) and was told it was just a 'friable cervix' due to the pill. Anybody else?

3 or 4 weeks ago I started to get vulvar itching, I took flucozanol and it didn't work. Then, a little over a week ago I started to feel incredibly tired and nauseous. I went to the GP on Thursday, they took a swab and we are awaiting results, but she also wanted me to get some bloods done.
I mentioned that I have had bleeding after sex for the last 6-8 weeks or so and she said that if the swab came back clear and that continued I would need to get a colposcopy.
I am obviously grateful I have a very good GP (women's health specialist who oversaw my referals for diagnostic surgery last year), but could this all be endometriosis related?
I have had these symptoms before, particuarly the nausea which I had for months on end firstly before my first period started and also on and off between the ages of 17 and 19, and was given an IBS diagnosis and told to stop being so anxious. I had a Staph A infection alongside thrush last year (pre-endo diagnosis) that took 3 months to get diagnosed. I also have had the bleeding after sex on hormonal contraception before (restarted after endo diagnosis in October last year) and was told it was just a 'friable cervix' due to the pill.
Anybody else?

a decent amount of my bdd fixations are related to things i consider masculine on myself (my brownone, my shoulders, my neck, my deep voice, my hands etc) and i often obsess over wanting facial feminization surgery or how to feminize my voice even though i was born a biological female
does anybody else have issues like this,? i feel like i have so many of the concerns trans women often refer to… is this normal (for bdd lol, so clearly not normal)

First of all, I will start by saying that I know everyone is different. Statistics are just that: they make sense only in the context of large populations. So this is not an attempt at dividing any community whatsoever, it's an attempt at cold analysis.
I considered myself, all my life, a lot less masculine than the general men, not only in appearance, but in the way my brain functioned. I was proud to cultivate my intuition, to cherish each emotion, to save all my memories. I hated physical violence, but I did get into the gun culture of USA.
With that out of the way, are women more susceptible to mind control than men?
The excrements can remove the ability to feel emotions. Once that is removed, what stands between an enemy, and preserving ones ability to defend him/herself from hijacking?
Only pure memory.
"I remember what you've done to me, even though I no longer care."
In any case, during the last decade, I noticed the following categories of people mind controlled again and again:

• old people (both men and women)
  
• physically disadvantaged persons (wheelchair people, etc)
  
• people who had a massive surgery/implant
  
• young children (the horror of realizing the Mafia has no issues with mind controlling a child!)
  
• women
  

On the contrary, I witnessed an attempt of the Mafia at controlling men, even men who knew nothing about what was happening, and those men would reject the attempt, with a physical movement of the body.
Not much of an analysis, I am brain dead. You do the proper analysis, with references to how the human brain works in males vs females.