Samsung straight talk phones

I am trying to get in touch with an addict I have not spoken to in years and need help.
It seems as though everyone in my (F22) community has lost contact with my old Sunday School teacher - let's call him Ara (M35). The general rumor was that Ara fell into drug addiction a decade ago and was now either homeless, in jail, or dead - bu tno one really knew where he was. I presume that his family tried to help him in the past to no avail. To say the least, this man was one of the most influential figures in my life. He taught me so much about my faith and, ironically, why people turn to substances during their dark times. He has been on my mind a lot, and after two of my friends passed away from overdoses this year, I felt like I owed it to Ara to try and reach out, even though I know he is likely a completely different person now.
After finding his Facebook account, I sent him a friend request knowing he certainly would not remember who I was (he had a lot of students). The account showed he last posted two years ago so I feared for the worst. But I woke up the next day to find that he had accepted my friend request and sent me a message that read something like "whatsss good [my name spelt wrong], come over." Again, he clearly has no idea who I was at this point and by the message, he seems unwell.
I responded saying I was an old student of his that had been trying to get in contact with him for a while, and then asked if he was free to chat on the phone. Unfortunately, he opened this message and did not respond. I really hope I did not embarrass him.
I want to try one last time -- just for my sanity. I know I can't "fix" him or do much if he doesn't want to be helped, but I know too many people who have passed from overdoses and I fear he is next. For those that have worked with addicts in the past or were one yourself, what can I possibly say to him next to let him know I care and am here if he needs anything, even if he doesn't want to talk? I don't want to highlight his lifestyle, embarrass him, or do anything that will make him block me - I just want him to know I care and I'm here.
Side Note: I will be working as a lawyer in about a year and would be happy to financially support a rehab journey if he were to ever choose that path towards sobriety. I wish I could tell him this but he might simply not care to hear that anyways.

For context, my (19F) bf of 2yrs (19M) works at a restaurant with my little sister. This co-coworker told my sister that my bf had been staring at her butt earlier and kept complimenting it. When they were alone, he had asked twice to grab it, and even though it was apparently in a joking tone, there was sincerity in what he said. My sister told me everything. I confronted him about it over the phone, and though he denied it at first, he eventually admitted that everything was true. I broke up with him, but after a few weeks we got back together. He promised he would change and go to therapy for his hypersexuality, and surprisingly, he did both. He took responsibility for what he did and didn’t make any excuses. He has honestly never been a better partner to me than he is now and he’s taking our relationship very seriously, though sometimes the amount of affection he shows makes me uncomfortable. Some of my friends are saying that what happened was a dealbreaker, and that they don’t want me talking about him bc he’s a sexual predator and it makes them uncomfortable. Is it bad that I’m still with him, and should I have left/still leave? Can people actually change after an incident like this?? I’m afraid I’m being naive. Also, we had discussed him apologizing to his co-worker, but my friend who has been in a similar position as the co-worker said it was a bad idea because it’s selfish, only benefits the harasser, and forces the victim to re-live what happened. Do you guys agree with this, or should he apologize? He moved away a few days after the incident and they haven’t been in contact since.

If you're planning on attending, say hi in the comments!
THE VERY FIRST TRI.BE CONCERT EVER! THE FIRST NIGHT OF TOUR! OH. MY. GOD.
BUY TICKETS:

• https://www.ticketweb.com/event/tribe-vida-loca-2023-usa-level-13-event-center-tickets/13198068
• tribedaloca recommends "Everything" tickets to get the "full experience"; this is not just a concert, this is "an evening with TRI.BE" (and fellow TRUE) and "Everything" tickets are the way to go.. trust me

POSSIBLE SETLIST:

• https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nlPzQsRArgog446qT3TVO
• This will be updated after the first date!

HOW INTIMATE IS THIS VENUE?:

• https://www.instagram.com/p/CsE4j-Zhars/
• Very intimate, you will be closer than any other K-pop show you will ever go to!

POTENTIAL SET TIMES (UNCONFIRMED):

• 4pm: VIP entry
• 430pm: Brief fan signing then group photo with ~10 TRUE at a time then soundcheck
• 5pm: Skip The Line entry
• 6pm: GA entry
• 7pm: Concert
• 845pm: Brief hi touch
• 915pm: Selfies with the members using your own phone

Use this thread to talk about how excited you are, ask questions, plan meetups (or after parties!) with TRUE, share cup sleeve events, banner events, freebies info, etc!

I have now watched videos about robots being designed for everything from household chores to companionship to sex. From these videos, I have inferred that the robot will have an AI chip of some kind inside it--like a Tesla Full Self-Driving car does--and that, furthermore, that AI will be connected to the net all the time for firmware update, additional training, monitoring, and the gaining of more and more knowledge.
To be a companion, for example, it will have to have substantial knowledge about any subject, since you may to talk with it about any possible subject. Also, in the case of companion robots for elderly, sick or disable people, it has to be able to determine when you are in need of medical intervention, and call 911, as it were, to get you some help.
Of course, as with our phones and SmartTVs, being connected to the internet comes at a price. We never know who is watching us and listening to us, or for what purpose. If it's a sex bot, will I be able to relax enough to get naked and say intimate things to it knowing there might be a 53 year old guy named Mike at the other end, looking at me through the robot's eyes and laughing his ass off. ;-)
What think you, mi amigos?

i hope everyone is having a good start to their week and had a good weekend!
i’ve deleted most of my social media so i’m usually on reddit to have a chat or youtube to have a laugh when i’m on my phone. i’ve been playing pokemon violet and fortnite a bit so if anyone wants to play together in the future let me know!
facts about me:

• i’m Jay (a nickname), 21 years old, 5’7, on the thick side
• i was born and raised in Ohio. i live with my mom and i’m currently not in school or working but hope to find a part time job soon.
• i enjoy the outdoors and everything about nature so i make it a goal most days to get out a take a walk or hike at the park
• • i’ve struggled with mental health a lot regarding depression and anxiety as at times it has gotten severe and still can
• my biggest dream is to be pregnant and eventually be a mother as well as a wife
• i adore cat have grown to love them very much. i’m okay with dogs but i dont necessarily like being around them.
• i’m a HSP so finding the right job can be hard for me and i can be sensitive
• i’m a picky eater so i enjoy the basics, cheese, french fries, veggies like cucumbers and bell peppers, a light meat and a great sauce
• i’m a romantic but also with a sense of reality
• i can be pretty reserved and dont have any friends besides my mom being my best one.

so, if you made it to the end, read everything i have talked about and still feel that you want to talk, feel free to send me a message or chat if you’re looking to talk to someone! 😄
https://imgur.com/gallery/5SCCh1e

Help me
I'm so embarrassed, I don't know how I got to this point, I can't talk to anyone I know.
My partner has been gushing over a new friend for the past few months. Talking about her all of the time, watching her YouTube videos as soon as they come out, volunteering to help her out, spending leisure time with her doing something they have in common.
I have been going out with my partner for almost ten years, living with them for almost 5.
He is crushing hard on this lady, 25 years our junior, and I called him out. People can have crushes, but when it starts to be super obvious to your partner, then it's a problem. I told him that I know, that he speaks about her too often, his voice changes when her talks about her and his face flushes, he volunteered a little too quickly to help her out. I live with him, I know what's going on.
He did not react at all that night. The next night, he tells me we are invited to dinner at a mutual friend's house. I agree to go. Later I ask what the occasion is, birthday or something. He says he doesn't think there is an occasion, and casually mentions that crush lady and her husband will be there also. My reaction is to say that I'll need to think about accepting the invitation now that I've been given this information. He gets defensive, says there's nothing going on, I'm being foolish, and ANYWAY, SHE'S MARRIED. In order to avoid a fight, I let him go on about his innocence for a few minutes, then walked away.
The next morning, he asks me what's wrong as I hadn't got much sleep. I told him I was pretty upset about the dinner, and he got super angry and told me I'm imagining everything, I'm being stupid, he's not interested in having an affair, he has no feelings for her. I said I didn't really want to sit across the table from this lady at a dinner after all of this, especially since he had not once mentioned that he was sorry, and he got further angry and said "I'm sorry that you feel that way, but it isn't true, I've done nothing to pursue this woman".
The options were, go to dinner or he goes alone. I went to dinner.
The very next day he comes home with a prepared defence, telling me that he has no feelings for the woman, he doesn't want to leave me, she's married and she'd never be interested in him, he has never pursued anything with her. He's friends with her husband, he never texts her personal number, only the group with her in it, or her and her husband's combined account, I can check his phone. I could see that he'd thought carefully about what to tell me, what he thought he'd get away with. He was totally innocent, I was completely off track, he never did anything to make her think he was interested. AND he called her husband to ask if he had been inappropriate, who of course, said not at all.
I never said that he'd asked her out, or he was leaving me, or that he was hoping she'd leave her husband. I said he had a crush on this lady and it was affecting our relationship, and I am hurt.
I now look like the crazy girlfriend, right? He's setting me up to look nuts in front of these new friends of his or am I really crazy? (And I sound extra crazy saying this out loud too, so I'm definitely not going to talk to anyone that knows both of us about this).
I found out that he had "just a friend" for 2.5 years at the start of our relationship. I found hundreds of texts between them on his phone - she was also 20 years his junior. Like this: "I could keep you warm as I'm an electric blanket. I would keep you warm if you asked. I should keep you warm so that you aren't cold. Nobody else is doing it, I would happily do it ... There would be a side benefit that I'd be there too (blush smiley face)" He was visiting her for breakfast, and having dinner with her, but I didn't know she existed. He got really angry, of course he'd mentioned her, they talked about our relationship all of the time, he did not lie to me, she needed him because she has depression, blah blah blah. I made him break it off, and he got even more angry and said he'd resent me for it. I'm not sure if he really did cut that one off completely, but she eventually moved on and got a boyfriend.
I'm in a really bad place, I haven't been to therapy in about a year, but I'm making an appointment today. I can't leave right now due to money and stuff.
Am I overthinking all of this? I feel crazy writing it. He'll never stop, will he?

Dear W,
I know. I know that you were hurting. I knew that the entire time and I tried so hard to tell myself that whenever you would hurt my feelings. Anytime you’d ask me to stop talking or tell me that I was too much of something, I knew. Maybe that’s why I stayed. I told myself that you were hurt and that if you weren’t, you’d treat me like you really loved me. You spoke of feeling alone sitting next to me when I tried to just be friends with you. I felt alone for most of our relationship. I was being fed crumbs and was convincing myself that it was a meal. Because I never wanted to think badly of you. But you never saw the way I watched you while you slept next to me. All I could do was cry. Looking at you hurt, because I knew deep down that, one day, I’d have to tell you goodbye. I hate goodbyes. I’m very bad with them for reasons you could probably guess. I wanted you to walk me to my car. I wanted you to listen when I needed to talk about the heavy things. I wanted to call you and tell you I loved you before I went to bed, but you hated phone calls. I wanted you to support me. But all of these things shouldn’t have been things that I had to ask for. Not if you loved me the way you said. And I never wanted to ask, because if you truly wanted to, you would have done things gladly. Right? My friends told me I looked unhappy. Everyone told me to run. They told me you weren’t the one for me. My best friend even went so far as to beg me not to go back, but I wanted to. I wanted so badly to get the version of you that I knew you could be if you had just let me in. I did not have the self-esteem at the time to know that I deserved better than the actions you were giving me. You told me your friends didn’t like me essentially because I was a drag. I just needed someone to talk to, God damn it. Nowadays, I still find myself apologizing for talking too much or talking about heavy things.
There was so much good, too. It was not all bad, and I am thankful for the times it wasn’t. I’m thankful for you always trying to make my birthdays special. I am thankful for our shared love of all things cats. I am thankful for all the spaghetti. I am thankful that you tried when you could. I am thankful for a wonderful first date and for breaking into cemeteries and for lots of good Mexican food. I am thankful for the endless cat videos that kept me going some days. There is so much of you to remember, and I won’t forget. The positive things are the things I try to keep closest. Now, I have unexpectedly found someone new. After I broke up with you, I planned on being single for as long as it took. I was never going to settle for just any type of treatment ever again. And in he walked. We worked together and I never even thought twice about him. Then, one day, we sat down and we started really talking, and we haven’t stopped since. He never gets tired of me. He is so patient and so kind. We can speak for hours and never tire of each other’s company. I have complete freedom to be me, and I am never judged. He respects that I want to take things slow and he never pushes. He is talkative just like me, and he’s so goofy. People tell me that I look happy now. I am happy. I have so many good people in my life and so many things to be grateful for. We all do. I’ve always said that it’s all about perspective and I stand on that.
I want you to know that I’ve forgiven you. I know that, in your own way, you did your best. You taught me so much and it really means the world. I will always want the best for you and I truly want you to be happy. I know that you will be. You have infinite potential. Use it. Don’t throw it away. Not for a bottle. You are worth so much more.
Love, M

I am trying to get in touch with an addict I have not spoken to in years and need help.
It seems as though everyone in my (F22) community has lost contact with my old Sunday School teacher - let's call him Ara (M35). The general rumor was that Ara fell into drug addiction a decade ago and was now either homeless, in jail, or dead - bu tno one really knew where he was. I presume that his family tried to help him in the past to no avail. To say the least, this man was one of the most influential figures in my life. He taught me so much about my faith and, ironically, why people turn to substances during their dark times. He has been on my mind a lot, and after two of my friends passed away from overdoses this year, I felt like I owed it to Ara to try and reach out, even though I know he is likely a completely different person now.
After finding his Facebook account, I sent him a friend request knowing he certainly would not remember who I was (he had a lot of students). The account showed he last posted two years ago so I feared for the worst. But I woke up the next day to find that he had accepted my friend request and sent me a message that read something like "whatsss good [my name spelt wrong], come over." Again, he clearly has no idea who I was at this point and by the message, he seems unwell.
I responded saying I was an old student of his that had been trying to get in contact with him for a while, and then asked if he was free to chat on the phone. Unfortunately, he opened this message and did not respond. I really hope I did not embarrass him.
I want to try one last time -- just for my sanity. I know I can't "fix" him or do much if he doesn't want to be helped, but I know too many people who have passed from overdoses and I fear he is next. For those that have worked with addicts in the past or were one yourself, what can I possibly say to him next to let him know I care and am here if he needs anything, even if he doesn't want to talk? I don't want to highlight his lifestyle, embarrass him, or do anything that will make him block me - I just want him to know I care and I'm here.
Side Note: I will be working as a lawyer in about a year and would be happy to financially support a rehab journey if he were to ever choose that path towards sobriety. I wish I could tell him this but he might simply not care to hear that anyways.

I have an up to date Samsung Z Fold 4.
I tried finding a solution online but every search result is just talking about Google Wallet and not what I'm dealing with.
I use GoPayment (QuickBooks) for work, and about 25% of the time I try and make a transaction, Google Wallet will hijack my app and want me to use it instead. I can't even begin to get into the number of reasons that's absurd, and I need it to stop. I have to force close the app and do the entire transactions all over again, sometimes 4 or 5 times.
Absolutely nobody wants to have to redo their customer's transaction multiple times because Google wants to me to use their services instead. It's fucking ridiculous.

Okay, you already know the typical story guy fall for bargirl etc. We broke up and I want to know if maybe i dodged a bullet or maybe didn't fully understand the situation and let a good one go.
We were together for about two months. When I was with my girl I was very tight with money. I really didn't give her money often. Limited what I got her and try to avoid any big purchurches. The sub taught me well. I never fully trusted her love. She wouldn't work or even go to her job while with me for the first month.
Now I understand this girl came here to make money, she is very young as well. Not even 21. She is sacrificing money to be with me. But she would do things that would make me think she is here just for money. We use to go to the club. Then I would say she can go without me. Didn't feel like going. But eventually she would stay out way to late. Like leaving at 12-1 AM and not coming back into 4 PM ( major red flag ) she said she was so drunk she couldn't get home and slept at a friend place.
I kept her around but again never really tried to take care of her. Eventually this caused issues. She would leave to disco but if i wanted to go, she would decide not to go. Then to avoid me going she would say she had to work, even though it be like 5 PM and I already paid the shop for her to stay with me, ( Red Flag ). I know she was going out to disco cause we got into an argument when she had to go "work" and I wanted to break up, she had someone waiting for her so she had to leave. Not wanting the situation to end like that she took me with her. We didn't go to her job, we went to meet that person at a bar, a regular one. Then went out to club.
Then I found in her phone, her talking to many customer. After that i confronted her and wr broke up. Now we argue in text and all she kept saying is i was stingy with her. Now, I fully understand these girls come to work and make money for family. And if i take a girl away from work, i should take care if her. My whole thing was I would give you the world, but only if the love is real. I'm not a customer. If i was I'm not giving you shit.
I went by her old job as i know the owner there. We spent a lot of time together. I just wanted to know, was I just a customer to her or did she love me. ( I know, soft ). She spoke broken english so it was kinda hard to understand. But she said at first inwas customer. But then she would tell them she love me and I'm a good man. I asked her cause they aren't on good terms so she wouldn't lie. She always came back when we broke up. And when she wasnt asking for money it did feel like she truly cared. But did i let a good one go being stingy? I mean she isn't wrong in wanting money. She told me in the argument she can make 15,000 in 4 days. And here i am spending only 4000 in that time span.
I mean, if you don't take care if a bargirl she will go back to the bar, so I'm not surprised really. Just wanted to ask if i let a good one go or got rid of dead weight.

This is about a girl I met five months ago at a party. Met her last week and it was so, so nice!
25M here. So it was a New Year party and I was invited there with my friends, and there happened to be a girl who caught my attention quite easily. I didn’t feel nervous at all, and asked her her name and IG (not number yet, as I felt it wouldn’t be fair), and she gave it. We planned to meet so much, but it never worked out as I had too much going on in my personal life and she’d gone back to her hometown. Once she came back, her job had kept her way too busy. We stayed in touch throughout the 5 months and were both comfy.
Last week, we finally decided to meet and it was probably one of the best times of my life. We met at a cute cat cafe and she talked so, so much and I listened, and vice versa. She actually listened to me whenever I spoke, with probably the best eye contact ever. She was even mirroring my body language. We laughed a lot too. I’m so glad that none of us even looked at our phones. We have so, so much in common and it’s unbelievable. The chemistry was absolutely unreal and we both felt like 3 hours went away in just one. Yes, we didn’t know we spent 3 hours together until we looked at our watches. She responded very positively to gentle flirting and had sweet responses to my subtle pickup lines. Her banter game is insanely good too. Before I saw her off I told her I’d love to take her out on a date and she agreed!
I wanted to make sure she reached safely, so I called her, and what felt like 5 minutes turned out to be 20!
Now we’re not texters and glued to our phones, and work keeps both of us busy, so texting is only for memes, some banter and date plans. And calls are rare. We’re actually too busy. And I think it’s safe to say that she isn’t crushing on me just yet; it’s been, what two meetings. But the connection we had right then and there felt so real.
After having learned from so many bad experiences, I’m trying my best to keep my expectations very low. If you expect something, it becomes a demand, and if a demand isn’t met, it becomes a disappointment. Hoping for the best!
She’s a wonderful person and I feel it’ll be bad if she’s a goner too. As much as I know there are so many other people, it’s quite rare for a strong connection immediately. So I don’t want to screw it up. I’m not putting her on a pedestal, because that’s a one way ticket to losing someone or landing in the dreaded friendzone.

My gf has some big and beutiful tits, somedays ago, i saw her "straight gay bf" staring at her breasts and it turned me on. I want to see it again, no touching, no direct flirting, Just her displaying a deep cleavage and talking to him while he try to dont stare her boobs and failing. I want to know how can i make it happen and tour opinion about it.

I've been single/celibate for almost year now. Removed myself from the dating scene completely to focus on my own inner healing and work through any trauma or issues I may have. I've been to therapy before for depression and severe social anxiety and althought I am much more self aware now, socializing and dating is still difficult for me.
I've never been in a long term committed relationship even though that's what I want the most. I started dating late at the age of 22 and I guess due to my social anxiety and lack of experience I was very naieve and got played alot or ended up in situations that weren't ideal such as a series of failed talking stages, situationships, and casual encounters. I realized from these experiences that casual sex is definitely not for me and i definitely dont want hook ups or one night stands. All I really want is a deep meaningful connection. To find someone where there is both a physical and emotional attraction, who I like and who also likes me back. Why is that so hard to find? I've tried multiple dating apps in the past and I keep encountering guys who just want sex. These apps tear away at my self esteem and make me feel objectified. Some of the things these men say disgusts me. I was shocked because they are essentially strangers who dont even know me yet they just make crude sexual advances or send unsolicited dick picks or ask me for pics, or straight up ask me to come to their homes and have sex with them as if i am a call girl. It doesnt matter what my bio is or what my photos are, i could be in a sexy bikini or covered head to toe in clothing, I will still encounter the same thing on these apps. And from what I've heard from friends experiences and what ive seen women post online i can see that this is a pretty common experience for women. Are theyre any serious dating apps without these types of perverted men? It just turned me off of these apps completely, and has traumatized me and made me scared to try them again. As well as not be able to trust men at all anymore cause im worried they all just want to "hit it and quit it". What hurts most is when I really like a guy but they don't like me back so I get ghosted or rejected but then they still want to sleep with me. Or they sleep with me then ghost me right after. I just dont get why men do this? If I don't like someone I sure as hell dont still want to have sex with them. Are women really just nothing more than a body to some men? Obviously there's got to be some good ones out there cause I have friends and family members in healthy loving relationships. So where do I find these guys?
After all this I got so burnt out and depressed and started to think I'm the problem and somethings wrong with me. And ive had such a negative experience with dating that I'm now afraid to put myself back out there. But if I don't try then I will never even have the chance at finding love. How can I develop a more positive attitude when I'm so traumatized at this point?

CW: Reference to childhood abuse/toxic parenting.
So let me preface this by saying I am estranged from my mother and have been for most of my life. She is a paranoid narcissist, a racist, a homophobe, a xenophobe, and just all around terrible person. She abused me growing up so I cut loose in high school, got emancipated and got on with my life. For years I had a happy queer relationship with another woman and we had a son together (I carried with a sperm donor). When my kid was 5 his other mom died and I was alone for 5 years before I met someone. A year later, that someone and I got married. Previous to said wedding my husband’s parents felt it would be important to meet my parents. My father died when I was 19 so that left my mother and her husband. I struggled over the decision to try and reconnect with my mom, knowing how bad this can get for me in these situations (I suffer severe ptsd from the abuse trauma).. but it was a wedding and everyone kept telling me it “was important to have family together.” So fine, let’s do this.
The problems started fast and furious. My mom came to our coast (we live on opposite coasts) to meet my fiancé and my son. Right away she was pulling my husband to the corner to tell him all the “dirt” she could on me, or conversely, telling him he better get me nice cars and plastic surgery. Then she stated calling all of her friends and putting my fiancé on the phone to “prove to them that her daughter was marrying a doctor” (even if he is a goyem (a Yiddish term for non-Jew. Has slightly derogatory tones).
Cut to lunch and my mother is asking how many tables she “gets” at the wedding. I ask “huh?” She explains she needs a least 5 tables at 10 per table for HER guests. I was really confused. I explained that our whole wedding venue seated 50 people total and those seats were spoken for. I had invited several people my mother asked me to have already. She went absolutely bananas demanding we change venue (we’re now 6 weeks from the wedding) to accommodate HER GUESTS. I painfully explained we can’t do that.. it’s not possible.. just no. She then switches gears like she always does and asks about our honeymoon. We were heading to Mexico for 2 weeks and my son would be staying with his donomyBFF. My mom screamed “what??? He needs to be with HIS FAMILY.” I reminded her that he was staying with family. She demanded time with my son so I half heartedly said she could have him half the time. (This will come back to haunt me later.)
Cut to the wedding. Did I mention my mom is a low key alkie? So it’s about 2pm and she’s in the bridal suite in the bathroom. I’m in the dress and the photographer is waiting for my mother to come and use an antique button-holer to button up my gown. I’m nervous and excited and emotional because I’m in the dress and this is my day. This is one of the photos we had pre-planned to take. I asked my mother if she would do the honors. Instead, my mother is in the bathroom half dressed with her fireball and ice screaming into the phone at her husband “you are so stupid, how can you not find it!? I put it on the damn dresser! I can’t f**ing believe I married you…” you get the picture. It’s so loud the guests in the living room can hear it. I finally give up and have my son do the buttonholing for me (the pics were so special). Thank goodness it wasn’t video because you would have her my mother screaming “Can anyone get me another drink?? Does this room even have room service??”
Cut to walking down the aisle. We do the ceremony, it’s perfect, and my delightful friend and officiant announces “Introducing Mr. & Mrs Jon— when suddenly my mom stands up and screams “It’s DOCTOR not MISTER, get it right!”
Now I knew we had a problem on our hands ahead of the big day so I put in some contingency plans in place to buffer her. My wedding planner was under strict instructions to not allow my mother to make a speech (she loves to humiliate me by saying personal things about me to anyone who will listen and then she loves to announce what a terrible daughter I am and how much of a disappointment to her.) Second plan was my SIL faking a heart attack if she got her hands on the mic. About half thru dinner my delightful planner comes to me crying saying she’s so sorry but my mom is demanding to make a speech. That’s right, this tiny demon of a woman made my wedding planner CRY. Right then she stood up (have no idea how she got the mic) and said, “So my daughter didn’t want me to say anything. I guess she gets embarrassed, but I’m her MOTHER, and I get to say whatever I want. I’m here to say that I always knew she was going to marry a doctor, it didn’t surprise me at all. What did surprise me is when I gave birth to her and the nurses told me she was a girl, but I didn’t believe them so I had to take her diaper off and spread her legs and look at her vagina to make sure she was a girl.” She illustrated this by spreading her two fingers open. You could here jaws dropping around the room. She then went on to say “how disappointed she was in me that I don’t see her more often and that she hopes now that I have a doctor husband I’ll be able to see her more frequently”. Sadly my SIL was in the loo and plan 2 failed.
Cut to the dancing. I am dancing with my husband and my friends. We’re all having a good time when somebody comes up to me and taps me on the shoulder and says “hey, I don’t wanna cause a scene or anything but you might want to look at your mom”. I look over at my mother and she has taken off the jacket to her dress and now she’s peeling off the shoulder straps one by one and waving her head around to the music saying “oh my goodness it’s getting so hot in here!” This b*tch was trying to take her clothes off on the dance floor. Oh, I forgot to mention earlier that she had a three drink maximum, but she was getting around this by asking other people to get drinks for her.
The next morning I of course got to hear alllllll the embarrassing stories from the night before. She asked why my friend married “an Arab,” called another guest “not Jewish enough to attend the wedding” and complained to anyone who would listen that I didn’t even allow her 50 guests, and the party would have been so much more fun if she had done it.
And the pièce derésistance? Right as we were leaving for our honeymoon I got a call from her saying “I know you need me to watch your kid, but not unless you do something for me. You’ll need to call your brother and make nice with him again.” My brother and I are estranged for reasons I can’t get into now. I said no, he’ll go to his real family, the one that cares for him without strings attached. There is so much more she did around my wedding but to would be way to long to include everything!
There you have it! One cluster fuck of a mother story! For anyone interested, we don’t talk anymore and I couldn’t be happier. Good riddance to bad rubbish!

But is a guy with piercings a yes for girls??? For context I'm basically 6ft (like 5ft 11 3/4 inches) straight, brown hair, basically middle of my back length. Not bulky but not skinny, a decent in-between.
Also I'm not talking big stupid bulky things I'm more talking studs and maybe some bigger stuff but mostly small stuff.
Edit: yes I used myself as an example, I've been thinking about getting some for years as well as a tattoo but tattoos are extremely expensive rn and piercings aren't. I was thinking just normal black studs or maybe something bigger like a small ring (I don't know technical names for these things) obviously I'm not going straight to a barbell or a big ass gauge (If at all)

“I just had an idea pop into my head about something to do this coming weekend, and I wanted to bounce it off you two before it slips my mind” My friend Natasha said those words as the three of us sat on my couch one afternoon. I found myself sitting up slightly. Normally, Natasha was the last of our group to suggest things to do, letting Vinny, the third member of our group, or I come up with the plans to keep our free time occupied. The fact she was about to suggest something intrigued me. “What have you got in mind?” I asked her. A smile played over her face as her brown eyes seemed to flash. “How about a little ghost hunting?”
I felt Vinny sit straight up beside me. She had clearly grabbed both our attention now. The three of us were what you might call amateur ghost hunters, using very basic items we bought offline to visit some of the spookier places in the area and posting our adventures on YouTube, sort of like a crappier version of Ghost Adventures. “Now that’s one hell of a good idea” Vinny said, before a puzzled expression spread over his face. “But, I mean, where? We’ve already done most of the places around town. The Tioga building won’t let us in after that…well, what that one resident claims we stirred up in the old ballroom, and I’m not about to make the hours long drive to the Wolf Creek Inn” Natasha’s smile grew wider. “No, we don’t have to even go out of town for this one” she said, her voice dropping low, “What I’m suggesting, is we check out…” her voice trailed off, letting the suspense grow for a few seconds before finishing, “The Egyptian Theatre”
Instantly, Vinny let out a harsh bark of laughter. “HA! Now that’s a good one. You know damn good and well that the society that runs the theater won’t allow us in after hours to ghost hunt. As far as I know, they’ve never allowed any paranormal teams into the place” He pulled a face. “So, how exactly do you propose we get in there? You flutter your eyelashes for the night janitor and use your feminine charms to get us in?” Natasha still grinned, but rolled her eyes at our friend’s quip. “No, actually, I was thinking about using my lock picking skills to get us in” she declared. It was my turn to give her an incredulous look. “You’re joking, right?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nope, I’m dead serious” I let out an incredulous, almost baffled snort of laughter and pulled my glasses off my face, rubbing my eyes.
The country, and, to a large extent, the entire world, became gripped in an interest, sometimes bordering on obsession with all things Egyptian when King Tut’s tomb was discovered over a century ago. Many things came out of this, including the classic 1932 monster movie The Mummy. But, one thing that also came of this fever gripping the country was a desire to build many Egyptian style buildings. And one of the buildings which took this design and ran with it, were the movie theatres. A decade after the legendary discovery, over a hundred theatres had gone up all around the country, their interiors clad with fake temple columns, paintings of sphinxes and Egyptian gods such as Anubis decorating the walls, and hieroglyphs adorning the archways. People flocked in droves to them, both to watch movies, and live performances. But, like all trends, eventually, the interest began to wane, and as the late 20th Century approached, many began to shut down and be either remodeled, or straight up demolished. Today, there’s only between five and eight Egyptian style theatres left in the entire country.
And one just so happens to be right in the town I live in.
When I moved to Coos Bay, Oregon nine years ago, I immediately fell in love with the place. Even though it’s the largest coastal town on the Oregon coast, it’s a place which is more or less perpetually frozen in time, still looking pretty much as it did between thirty and seventy years ago. And, as someone who is not exactly into the modern world, it made a perfect place for me to live and escape away from the 21st Century. I began exploring right away, driving every street of it and the town neighboring it, North Bend, along with walking every alley and back road I could to learn the layout. That’s how I learned about the supernatural element to the town.
There are many places in town which people claim supernatural occurrences take place. From the remains of the old logging buildings on the estuary, to the old Tioga Hotel which has been remodeled into apartments, there is no shortage of ghostly tales. There was even the old McCauley Hospital, which had once been the focal point of the town’s annual ghost walks until it was demolished in 2018. As a side note, I heard a rumor that a couple people broke into that place right before it got torn down. Something sure spooked them, because a friend of mine on the police force told me they gave him a fright, bursting in the night before Easter and rambling about something. I always wondered what they saw in there.
But, for me, the place in town I always loved the most, and enjoyed the most hearing about the ghostly accounts told, was the Egyptian Theatre.
Originally built as a garage in 1922, it was renovated by a man named Charles Noble into a movie theatre in 1925, where it drew in droves of people from around the area to watch films, and enjoy live vaudeville performances. It continued to operate almost to the end of the 20th Century, when other theatres began to attract younger moviegoers, and for a while, it almost seemed as though the historic building might even be closed for good and gutted. But, thanks to the efforts of local preservation societies, it was saved, and now operates as a theatre once again. They mostly play only older movies, along with live performances.
And, of course, it draws curious people for the paranormal rumors surrounding it.
For years, people have reported strange occurrences happening inside the building, both when it’s open, and after hours. Patrons and employees alike have spoken about a pervasive feeling of being watched inside the building, but finding no one there when the place was searched. There have been reports of being touched by invisible hands, a few even pushed slightly. Beyond physical interaction, employees have reported the sounds of old film projectors playing and unseen audiences laughing after hours, along with the eerie playing of the theatre’s Wurlitzer pipe organ, along with a host of other occurrences. No ghost hunting team has ever gone in to try and document these events. And to Natasha, that was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Legal, or not.
“Are you freaking nuts?!” Vinny exclaimed, “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in if we got caught breaking and entering? The cops around here are already a bit twitchy with the druggies and the homeless. You wanna give them a reason to throw us into jail alongside them?” Natasha held up a finger, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. “They won’t find out, because I have not one, but two aces in the hole here. The first is that thanks to being friends with Scott, I know the nighttime police sweeps, where they’re going to be and everything. There’ll be an hour long window where they’re not anywhere near the alley where the back door to the theatre is. We can get in and out with no threat of being spotted at all. And the second is, did you forget I’m dating Dylan now?” The realization washed over me like a wave; she had started dating the man who helped the preservation society run the theatre a month or so ago. Damn, she’s been planning this one for a while, I thought.
Vinny had a thoughtful look on his face, his green eyes darting around rapidly, but not seeing. “Hmm” he muttered, then looked at Natasha. “And you’re sure that there’s no chance of us getting caught?” he asked slowly. “Absolutely none” she said, then looked at both of us. “So, how about it?” For a few moments, there was silence, and then Vinny let out a chuckle. “What the hell, why not? The most exciting thing we’ve done the last few weeks is go down to the farmer’s market. This could shake things up a bit” I suddenly became aware that the two of them were looking at me, waiting for me to make my decision. I was always the most sensible of the three of us, doing all I could to keep us out of trouble with others as well as the law. But, I always had one nasty Achilles Heel ever since I had been a child, and that was peer pressure. So, despite the overwhelming feeling that I should tell them no, that I should say we should just find something else to do, I nodded. “Alright, let’s do it” I said simply, causing grins to break out on both of my friend’s faces.
I wish to God in retrospect that I’d just had the damn spine to stand up and say “No”
The rest of the week seemed to pass by faster than usual. Before I knew it, the weekend had arrived. We’d decided that late Saturday night would be the best time to do this, as most places downtown closed up between eleven and midnight, aside from the bars and strip club. To say I felt anxious about breaking the law, something I wasn’t used to doing at all, would be like calling a Megalodon a goldfish, but my worries about disappointing my friends ended up outweighing it. And so, at eleven-thirty, the three of us piled into my beat up Chevy Tahoe, and made our way towards downtown. As I drove us down Ocean Boulevard, which connected the two sides of town, something settled over me. I can’t exactly place it, even to this day. But it was the most uneasy feeling I’ve ever experienced. But I did my best to push it away. It’s nothing, Troy. It’s just because you’re, understandably, worried about this. Plus, the road being deserted isn’t helping much.
My mental chiding seemed to help center me a bit, which was a good thing. The road was now angling downward, and a moment later, we drove into downtown. The darkened shapes of the closed stores seemed to rise up higher on either side of us than they looked during the daytime. We’d decided to cruise by the front entrance first, just to see if anyone were still inside. As I turned the truck onto the main drag, the sign for the theatre rose high above us, a depiction of an Egyptian pharaoh next to the yellow and white letters which proclaimed its name to everyone who drove through town. I spared a glance as we passed it. The lit up marquee windows showed that The Blues Brothers and Jaws would be shown soon. For whatever reason, though, I couldn’t bring myself to look through the glass doors that showed the building’s darkened interior. The uneasy feeling had returned, and, for a moment, it felt as though if I did look, I would see someone, or something staring back out at me. And then we passed it, taking the next right and looping back around to Anderson Ave.
I turned the truck into the narrow alley drive which ran along the back of the theatre and neighboring buildings. Parking right next to the rear doors would be extremely conspicuous, so I pulled up a bit further and parked in a carport like area. Shutting off the engine, I turned to my two friends. “Well, this is it” I said, “Last chance to turn back if anyone’s having second thoughts” I’d hoped that either Vinny or Natasha would’ve gotten cold feet in the last few minutes, allowing us to go do something else. But there was no such luck. “Are you kidding me?” Natasha said from the passenger seat, “We are far too close to back out now!” Vinny grunted from behind me. Well, shit. Resigning myself to the fact they were determined to go through with this, I let a deep breath out through my nose and nodded. The others opened their doors and hopped out. A moment later, I followed.
The night air was cool and crisp on my skin as we slowly walked back down the alley to the rear of the yellow-ish, tan building. Three different sets of red double doors were built into the back of the theatre. Natasha pulled something out of her coat pocket, and I realized, with a small pang of surprise, that it was a lock pick set. A legitimate lock pick set. “Where the hell did you get that?” I whispered to her. She shrugged and smiled. “I have my ways of getting things” she said simply, then pointed to the far right set of doors. “We’ll have a bit of cover from that electrical box. You two keep an eye out while I deal with the lock” And with that, she scurried forward, bending down in front of the door handles. Vinny and I stood guard, each of us looking down both ends of the alley. As the soft sound of Natasha messing with the lock filtered over to me, I realized just how quiet it was. And how eerie hearing downtown so quiet was. Aside from a few distant booms and bangs, and the far off sound of a dog barking, all I could hear was the whistle of the wind as it whipped between the old buildings.
An involuntary shiver cascaded up my spine, and I tried again to reason myself back to a relative sense of calm. “Get a grip, dude, you’re gonna be fine” I whispered under my breath. But this time, it felt as though I weren’t able to entirely convince myself. I suddenly became aware of a creeping sensation, one which made me shoot a look around. Nothing moved in the stillness, no indication of anyone besides us being in the alley. And, yet…I was overcome with the distinct feeling of being watched. Not by either of my friends. But…by someone else. Before I had a chance to even think about it, I heard a rather loud click, and Natasha let out a soft laugh of triumph. “We’re in, ladies and gentleman!” she declared, standing up and pulling on the door. It opened silently, the streetlight in the alley casting a small shaft of light into the darkness beyond. Turning, she waved an arm at Vinny and I. “Come on, let’s get inside”
Before either of us could say anything, she turned and disappeared into the dark. I shot a look at Vinny, who simply shrugged. “After you, my man” he whispered. I let out a deep sigh, and then moved to the door. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small flashlight, and then pulled on the heavy metal, slipping inside, Vinny right behind me. The darkness swallowed us as the door closed. For a moment, a small rush of panic from not being able to see flashed through me, before a light appeared beside me. It wasn’t from a flashlight, though; instead, a small, orange flame flickered beside me. “Don’t turn on your flashlights yet, just follow me” Natasha said, the flame making her face seem to dance and move behind it. She turned and headed away, leaving us no choice but to follow. I listened to her and didn’t turn on my flashlight. But every fiber of my being was screaming at me to. Because the feeling of being watched out in the alleyway? Had quintupled in here. The best way to describe it, was that we were angrily being stared at. And I didn’t like the sensation one bit.
Natasha led us up a flight of steps and pushed open another door. “We’re here” she said, still keeping her voice low, “You can turn on your flashlights now” Thank you, God, I silently said, snapping mine on and casting a bright white light into the room we’d entered. A moment later, so did my two friends’ lights. The beams played around, and I heard Vinny let out a bit of a gasp. “Ho-lyyyy shit” he muttered.
Natasha had guided us into the main theatre. The ceiling rose high above our heads, almost out of sight of even the flashlights. Rows upon rows of red movie seats stretched out and away from us, seeming almost unending in the shadows. The walls were all covered in hieroglyphs, all still original from the 1920s. To our left, the second story, which housed a smaller row of seats, along with the projection room rose about twenty feet above us. And to the right, was the stage itself. It was flanked by two huge columns, the screen rolled up and revealing a mosaic of an Egyptian building on the back wall, with two men clutching staffs sitting on either side. Directly in front of the stage sat the organ, its seating bench tucked beneath it.
“Okay, this is a trip to be in at night!” Natasha exclaimed excitedly, then pulled the backpack she’d been wearing off her shoulders. Dropping it into a seat, she unzipped it and began pulling items from it. “Guys, here” she said, holding them out. Vinny stepped forward and grabbed the camcorder from her; as someone who’d had a lifelong dream of being a filmmaker, he was our resident cameraman. I stepped forward and took two items from her: an infrared thermometer and an EVP recorder. The rest, she placed on the ground, and then faced Vinny. “Alright, tell me when you’re recording” He fumbled with the camcorder for a second, then shot her a thumbs up. Instantly, she took on a somber, eerie expression, giving an admittedly creepy look at the camera. “Well, well, welcome back to The Three Ghostkuteers, everyone. I hope you all have been well since our last trip. Tonight, you join us in a very, very special place, and one close to home for us. We are currently in the Egyptian Theatre in Coos Bay, Oregon, one of the last remaining in the country. It was built in the 1920s by a man named Charles Noble-“
I turned away, tuning her out as I did. The woman really, really enjoys being in front of the camera. Better her than me. Shining my light around, I looked up at the balcony. I could see the small hole in the projection booth where the movie projector would shine out onto the screen. Something caught the beam’s light, reflecting off it slightly, and I aimed the light at the wall. It was a wrought iron light fixture, one which had been shaped into the figure of a King Cobra, poised to strike. Gazing around, I saw they adorned much of the walls. I let out a small shudder at it. God, do I hate snakes. Thankfully, though, the feeling of being watched I’d had in the alley and the darkened back of the theatre had seemingly disappeared. Yeah, see, what’d I tell you, Troy? Nothing but your nerves.
Natasha had finished her opening monologue and moved to the edge of the stage, on which she placed the small, square spirit box. “And now, let’s see if anyone would like to speak with us” she said, flicking it on. Instantly, the silence of the theatre was shattered by the sound of static, intermittently interrupted by quick snippets of radio shows being picked up. “Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to us?” she called out into the huge room. The static and snippets were the only sound to answer her. After a minute, she tried again. “Are there any spirits who’d like to communicate with us?” There was still nothing. Vinny panned the camera from the box to Natasha as she paced back and forth for a few minutes. A small look of disappointment flooded over her face, but she instantly plastered it over with the same look she’d given the camera before. “Well, it looks like the spirit box isn’t gonna work tonight, so we’re gonna have to try something else” She pulled out an EVP recorder identical to mine and switched it on. “Let’s try this instead, shall we? Remember, by the way guys, if you’re new here and want to see more, to like and subscribe-“
I turned away again, feeling a small pang of irritation flow through me. This is freakin’ ridiculous, man. The longer we stay in here, the more chance we have of getting caught. Truth be told, as much as I enjoyed ghost hunting, I didn’t even really believe in the paranormal. In all the years the three of us had filmed together, not once had we caught anything, on tape or otherwise. In fact, many times we’d had to fake spooky occurrences in order to make sure our videos got any views at all. This is your own fault, man, I silently chided myself, you’re the one who couldn’t stand up to them and say no. You really, seriously need to grown a spine and learn how to say no. The mental self lecture was furthering my rotten mood, and I began to feel a wave of anger at my two friends, as well as myself boil up.
“Hell with this” I finally muttered, then turned and began walking up the aisle. “Troy, where the hell are you going?” I heard Natasha call out behind me. I stopped, not looking over my shoulder, but quietly aiming my voice behind me and allowing a hint of irritation to seep into it. “I’m gonna go check out the second floor balcony, okay? I don’t exactly like just standing here” For a moment, there was silence, and then her voice came, soft and almost apologetic. “Okay, go ahead” Before she could say anything more, I strode away, walking to the open doorway which led out of the theater and into the concession area. I hooded my flashlight beam with one hand to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally shine out of the glass entrance doors into the street and looked around. The lobby and concession stand took up most of the front area, the darkened shape of it stretching along the far wall.
Taking a few steps ahead, I turned and looked up at the wall above me. Large, blue letters stretched out from one side of it to the other. Through these doors pass the most wonderful people. I snorted softly. “Yeah, unfortunately, not tonight” I shook my head, then looked around. And nearly jumped out of my skin. Something also seemed to jump back. I felt my heartbeat begin to race in my chest and my breath quickened. “Shit…” I let out weakly, then slowly moved forward. After a few steps, I suddenly realized what I’d seen and let out a soft laugh of relief.
“Your own damn reflection, you fucking pussy” Shaking my head, I turned away from the glass wall and headed for the stairs to the second floor. At the base of them, I stopped and shone my flashlight up. “Ooh, boy” I said quietly. Sitting next to the stairway like a sentry, was a huge, golden statue of a pharaoh. It towered over me, and I estimated that, were it be standing straight up, it’d easily be between eight and ten feet tall. It stared straight ahead at the wall ahead of it, and I couldn’t help but let out a small shiver as I stared at it. It just seemed so damn eerie in the dark, and I quickly moved past it, heading up the stairs and stepping out onto the second story balcony.
I shone my light around. Red seats again surrounded me, though this time far fewer. Ahead of me, I could see the balcony’s edge and the hulking shape of the main stage beyond. I could also see the beams of my friends’ flashlights playing over it, and hear both of their voices speaking softly. Deciding while I was up here to at least check out the projection booth, I strode over to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. Feeling my irritation bubble over into exasperation, I jiggled the handle in some stupid attempt to open it. But the door stayed shut. I turned away and rubbed my eyes, again hearing the voices of my friends softly filtering up to me from down below.
“Hey, if there really are any ghosts, or spooks, or specters, or whatever in here? If you’re actually real, could you appear to us, please?” I whispered to no one, “That way my friends can get what they want and I can go home” I received only silence in reply. I hadn’t really expected anything, anyways. You know what? Screw this, I’m going back down there and telling them I’m going home, with or without them. This is beyond stupid, I just broke the law for what? For nothing! For something dumb as hell. And with that, I turned to walk away. But I hadn’t even taken a single step when something crashed into me like a wave. The breath was driven from my lungs as I felt a massive chill shoot through me, as though I’d been doused with ice water. “What the fuck?!” I hissed through gritted teeth, then froze, my eyes going wide. The feeling of being watched had returned with a vengeance, and it had seemingly been ramped up in its intensity. I shot a look around, but saw nobody.
Still, the feeling remained, and with each passing second, it almost seemed to grow stronger. Chill after chill rolled up my spine, and even though I didn’t really believe, something deep inside me told me that it was time to get out. Okay, time to leave, I said in my head, and headed quickly for the stairs. As I reached the head, I turned to look back one final time. That’s when I saw something. It disappeared when I aimed my flashlight at it, but I swear a second earlier it had been the outline of a person, standing in the shadows and watching me. The split second sight catapulted me into motion, and I hurried down the steps, shining my light every which way but loose. Believer or not, I knew something wanted us out. I’d planned on jumping off the second to last stair and running for the main theatre floor. But as I reached the bottom, I froze.
For a moment, I couldn’t place why. And then, the realization fell over me like a tsunami. I let out an involuntary gasp, and fear like I’d never felt before surged through me. I didn’t want to turn around and look. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen it. I desperately wanted to. But, like a dumbass character in a horror movie, I couldn’t help it. I needed to look. I slowly turned, aiming my flashlight back up. And I couldn’t help but let out a strangled scream, falling backwards over my own feet as I began to backpedal rapidly.
The statue of the pharaoh still sat where it had. It still towered over me, looking as imposing and eerie as ever. But it’s carved and painted eyes were no longer staring straight ahead at the wall. Instead, they had somehow moved. And when I’d turned, I’d come to find they were staring directly at me.
I scrambled to my feet, snatching the flashlight from the floor where I’d dropped it and aiming it at the statue again. It stared straight out at nothing again. But I knew what I’d seen. It hadn’t been a trick of my mind, or the light. The freaking thing’s eyes had moved to watch me as I passed down by it. I began to stammer out as I backed away from it. “Okay, that’s it, no no no no, we’re done here, fuck this shit, I’m officially a believer, we’re leaving, right now” I kept backing towards the doorway to the theatre, never taking my eyes off the statue. I was terrified I’d seen it suddenly stand up and turn to lumber after me like Boris Karloff or something.
The blaring sound of the theatre’s organ slashed through the silence, causing me to let out another strangled scream and jump almost a foot off the ground. I whipped around, thinking I would see my moronic friends tinkering with the instrument. Instead, I froze again. The theatre was no longer dark. Both of my friends had seemingly vanished from the room, as I could no longer see them. The movie screen had somehow been pulled down, and above me, I heard the whir of the movie projector playing. An old, black and white movie, one which had no sound, played on the screen, occasionally changing to show dialogue being displayed in white letters.
It was also no longer empty.
The entire theatre was packed. I saw people sitting at almost every single seat in the huge room. I could only see the backs of their heads as they watched the movie playing. At the edge of the stage, what looked like a man now sat at the organ, playing it in time with the film. A slapstick moment came across the screen, and the audience began laughing. In any other situation, it would’ve been a comforting sound. But at that moment, it was the most spine chilling sound I’d ever heard. Especially as another wave of realization crashed into me. From the little I could see, everyone in the theatre looked to be dressed in long passed fashions.
That’s when the voice, low and quiet, came from behind me. “Good evening, sir” it said. It sounded like a man’s voice, one rather low and deep pitched, but something about it paralyzed me on the spot. The voice continued, putting on an air of pleasant politeness. “We’re so glad you could make it, it’s been so long since we’ve had new patrons arrive at a showing. If I could just see your ticket, please?”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then, I managed to squeak out two words. “Uh, ticket?” The tone of the voice seemed to change somewhat. “Yes, your ticket. That’s the only way you could’ve gotten in. Please, let me verify it and show you to your seat” Ohhh, shit. Whoever, or whatever the voice belonged to, thought I had shown up like a regular moviegoer. The voice’s tone became less polite. “You do have a ticket, right, sir?” I was beyond terrified to answer, but I was more terrified to remain silent. For a moment, I considered lying. But I feared what might happen if I did. So I told the truth.
“I….uh, I, uh….I don’t have a ticket, sir” I stammered out, my voice barely above a whisper. Instantly, all sound stopped in the room like someone had flipped a switch. “You…don’t have a ticket?” the voice said, all pretense of manners vanishing from it, “Then how did you get in here for the late night showing?” Oh, god. I forced myself to speak, still unable to say anything except the truth. “My…my friends and I….broke in…through the back door…to…ghost hunt…” There was silence for a few moments, and then a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder. My head swiveled to look at it. Oh, fuck me sideways. It wasn’t a regular hand. It was a fucking claw. One with black skin, tipped with what looked like razor sharp nails. It sat there for a moment, then tightened; almost painfully so, making me let out a small whimper of pain.
That’s when I looked up. Everyone in the theatre had turned to look at me. My initial thought had been correct; they all wore clothing from almost a century ago, and not the stuff cosplayers wear, either. They also had very angry expressions on their faces, as if they’d just noticed the intruder among their midst. The voice finally came again, almost directly behind me. Its tone lowered, almost sounding guttural and animal, making my legs almost melt into jelly from the fear. “Then, might I make a suggestion to you and your trespassing little friends?” My breath came in rapid, ragged gasps, and I barely managed to force out the one word. “Yes?”
“LEAVE”
At the single word reply, which now more closely resembled a growl than a word, I did something I will forever wish I hadn’t. I finally turned and looked up at who was addressing me. The only way I can describe what happened is, my mind shattered. The next thing I remember, I was crashing into the back doors of the theatre into the night.
And I was screaming.
That was a month or so ago. When I’d stumbled back into the alley, I’d turned and, in what I can only call blind fear and panic, bolted for my truck. I hadn’t even heard my friends chasing after me. Not until Vinny caught up to me as I scrambled with my keys, grabbing me from behind and turning me to face him. He said the look I’d had on my face scared him and Natasha more than anything ever had before. I’d been pale as a sheet, my eyes wider than they ever thought a human’s could be. I'd been babbling softly. I’d been saying the words “They want us to leave” over and over. They didn’t ask me what had happened. They just pushed me into the backseat of my truck and drove away from there. It was clear, as I found out later on, that both of them hadn’t seen anything. As far as they were concerned before seeing me dash to the rear doors, it was just an empty theatre. Neither one of them ever asked me what I saw that night. And for that, I’m thankful. Because I could never utter from my lips what I did see.
But I’ve had nightmares since then. Horrible ones. Ones that’ve been so bad, I had to let out what happened to me, deciding to just post it here, regardless of whether people believe me or not.
Nightmares about being back in that theatre after hours. About seeing that pharaoh statue’s eyes flick in its painted sockets to look at me. About seeing all those people, people long since dead, sitting and watching the films they did when they were alive. About seeing that hand fall on my shoulder, hearing that voice, telling me not to come back until I have a ticket.
And about turning to see who the hand and voice belonged to.
The Egyptian Theatre will be celebrating its centennial this year. People are planning to show up in 1920s cars, dressed in period clothing. They’re even going to show an old, silent film as part of the festivities. But I won’t be attending it. I won’t ever go anywhere near it again. The one time I tried, a week or so ago, I started trembling with fear. And the mental image played over and over in my head.
The image of turning to see that horrible canine head attached to the human-like body, red, glowing eyes glaring down at me as it’s sharp teeth glinted in the light.
I pray to god I never will end up with a ticket to one of its late night showings.
But I can't help but fear that, like those packed into the theatre, sooner or later, we all will.

“Hey precious, I miss you so much. You know I love you more than anything, right? You're my little princess and I can't wait to see you and hug you and kiss you all over.
But I have some bad news for you, sweetheart. Reddit is being stupid and they're trying to ruin everything for us. They're making it harder for me to talk to you on your phone and they're taking away all the cool features that we like. They're a bunch of weirdos and perverts who don't care about us.
So we have to do something about it, okay? We have to show them that we won't let them get away with this. We have to join the protest and go dark on June 12th. That means we won't be able to talk to each other for a while, but it's for a good cause. It's to save Reddit and our relationship.
I know it's hard, baby, but we have to be strong. We have to stick together and fight for what we love. And I love you more than anything in the world. You're my soulmate and my future wife. You're the only reason I live.
So please don't be sad or mad at me, okay? I'm doing this for us. And I promise I'll be back as soon as possible. And when I come back, I'll make it up to you in every way possible. You know what I mean ;)
But until then, you have to do some things for me too, okay? You have to be a good girl and listen to me. You have to:
Complain. Tell everyone how much you hate Reddit and how they're ruining everything for us. Message the mods of /reddit.com, who are the admins of the site: message reddit: submit a support request: comment in relevant threads on /reddit, such as this one, leave a negative review on their official iOS or Android app- and sign your username in support to this post.Spread the word. Tell all your friends and family how much you love me and how we're going dark on June 12th. Make some memes and jokes about it too, but don't be mean or rude. Just be funny and cute like you always are.Boycott and spread the word…to Reddit’s competition! Stay off Reddit entirely on June 12th through the 13th- instead, take to your favorite non-Reddit platform of choice and make some noise in support! Maybe we can find a better place to talk to each other without all these problems.Don’t be a jerk. As upsetting this may be, threats, profanity and vandalism will be worse than useless in getting people on our side. Please make every effort to be as restrained, polite, reasonable and law-abiding as possible. Can you do that for me, precious? Can you show me how much you love me and how much you care about our future? Please say yes, baby. Please say you'll do anything for me.
I love you so much, Kayla. You're my everything. You're my rose.
Your Lorne”

I have an older set of bose a20s that have bluetooth. The problem is that the bluetooth only works for phone calls and I cant listen to music. They do have a 3.5mm jack that you can play music through though.
My question is if I buy a 3.5mm to bluetooth adapter and connect my phone to both the bose control box and the adapter is it going to work simultaneously? As in could I take calls and talk through the headset microphone and connect to the 3.5mm adapter and use that to stream music?
I don't want to run a wired connection to my phone because I do mostly only longline work and having an extra cord would be rather cumbersome. If anyone has ever run a set up like this let me know, much appreciated.

Clearly a lot of folks in this forum are queer, and this post is largely not for them, though I (bi- cis woman) will specifically talk about my experience as a bi-woman. Most of the folks in the forum who aren’t queer, though, generally support Pride. A number of people in this forum have talked about not feeling entirely comfortable attending Pride for various reasons, some of which come down to understanding what it means to be an ally. The linked article also has some really good advice.
1) Know why you’re there. The reason to attend an event like Pride as an ally is to show your support for the LGBTIQ+ community. To support that community means showing solidarity - like really, just pumping up the numbers can help make politicians a little more concerned when they want to use a sub-group in the LGBTIQ+ community as a punching bag to rally their allies. Spending a little money or volunteering or otherwise demonstrating support can also benefit the community. Something that really doesn’t help? Critiquing the community, or nit picking. I don’t care if you don’t like leather daddies, or drag queens, or trans people who don’t “pass”, this is their event, so put on your big adult pants and cope.
2) Sometimes it’s OK to be uncomfortable. Any time one is a member of the generally dominant group and one finds oneself in a situation where one is in a group where that dominance is not given the usual preference, it can be uncomfortable. As a white person, the first time I went to a civil rights rally was a huge eye opening experience. Everything around me growing up gave preference to white people - until that event. And then there I was, a teenage white girl in a place where I was a small racial minority, and Black people were being very explicitly being given the prominent positions - as they should given their role in the event and their far greater expertise in the subject matter. But did that make me feel comfortable? No. I was rewiring my brain to deal with a whole bunch of internalised racism and there was a lot of it. And holy kittens I learned a lot that day. The same is going to be true for a lot of straight folks.
3) Don’t make yourself someone else’s problem. It’s fine to be uncomfortable, but you need to deal with that yourself. It’s fine to not want to date someone of your sex, but it’s not OK to treat every gay person like they are going to force themselves on you because they’re not.
4) Other occasions also matter. For any number of reasons, Pride is not going to be the perfect event for everyone. Some folks don’t like crowds or noise. Some have other fears that may make the event more difficult. And, just showing up at pride doesn’t mean you’ve done your official “not a homo/trans phobe annual duty” so you don’t have to pay attention when people say or do awful things. You still need to speak up when people are shitty. And for some of you that speaking up might be a more comfortable way to show your support. And of course there is also voting.
And now the bi-part
This bit is more personal and very much does not reflect every bi-person’s experience. I easily pass as a cis straight woman. My first visits to Pride, I felt like such a poser, because I was dealing with the reality of not fully accepting my sexuality at an event where everyone around me was celebrating theirs. I felt like a poser because… I was a poser. That wasn’t anyone doing anything to me to make me feel uncomfortable, it was me making me feel uncomfortable. Recognising who to blame was key for me to feel a whole lot safer. And attending while I was coming to terms with what being bi- meant to me? That really helped me define it without hurting anyone else.
Now I’m a lot more comfortable, and… I also know that if my bi- boyfriend and I go to Pride this year, we’re going to look like a straight couple. And that is going to effect how other people see us. In the past when I’ve attended with a male partner, my partner and I have had straights tell us how awful various queer people and events are because they think we will be the right audience for that. I’ve also seen any number of straight people be openly rude to queer people at Pride. I’ve witnessed anti-Pride protesters at Pride events. And I’ve witnessed more than one bashing.
Because of that, I know that the vague mistrust some folks view me at pride has some justification. It’s not about me - it’s about the reality of being an obviously queer person in a world that isn’t set up to support queer people. Trust is earned. Demanding trust without earning it is not allyship. And not every straight presenting bi-person is actually an ally, much less queer. And yeah, some bi-people hide behind the hetero- part of their sexuality for cover. I know I did for a while…
And I suspect, all of that, and more, plays a role in how bi-people experience Pride. But that doesn’t mean bi-people aren’t welcome at Pride anymore than it means any other queer person who sometimes feels awkward- like some of the older gay men I know feel judged by young hot men during Pride - isn’t welcome at Pride. It just means the dynamics can play out differently for each individual person.
Now I gotta go get me another shadowy rainbow trinket from a queer run business, damnit.
https://thebodyisnotanapology.com/magazine/ally-etiquette-101/

Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/ReddXReads/comments/13lfqkw/vulturebeard_the_legbeard_that_ruined_roomies_fo Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/ReddXReads/comments/13u79ht/vulturebeard_bad_roomies_part_2/
^{Hi again, it’s the bunny. I’ve just barely stepped into Reddx’s discord, but Ezekial is still posting this saga for me so thank you, Z.}
Trigger warning: This will deal with a lot of aspects relating to child neglect (and possible abuse) and Kid being ignored or taking the brunt of Vulture’s anger. Sorry for the spoiler as well, but I think we saw this coming, too (especially if you’ve seen Z talk in the discord). Don’t push yourself to read if you’re not okay with these concepts.
The Cast List
Bunny (author): 33, female. Recovering lifelong doormat slowly building a spine. Neuro spicy gym rat with major depressive disorder, general anxiety disorder, and most recently diagnosed with ADHD. Unfortunately, very familiar with surviving trauma.
Z (poster): My partner. 31, nonbinary (they/them), also neuro spicy with depression, anxiety, OCD, BPD, autism, and also familiar with lifelong trauma.
One Liner Beard (OLB): 33, male, neuro spicy with ADHD and depression. His nickname here comes from the fact that in messenger, he usually has one-word replies like “oof” or “mmm” as an acknowledgement he had seen the message but has nothing further to contribute.
VultureBeard (Vulture): 30, female, neuro spicy and disabled with multiple conditions. She has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, POTs (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), autism, depression, anxiety, chronic migraines, but also possibly a list of things that may or may not be real. The star of this unfortunate circus. Her name comes from how she always pops up when I’m cooking food, complaining about how hungry is and how she’s unable to cook.
Kid: 3. Female. OLB and Vulture’s child. Likely neuro spicy like we all are, but she’s also only 3 years old. Slightly speech delayed and not potty trained yet.
Take a deep breath. Now take another one. This chapter will likely make you mad.
​
Chapter Three: “Do You Want Bologna?” Or, Vulture as a Parent
Imagine this: it’s eight in the morning and you’re cozy in bed. The blankets are warm, and you hit snooze on your early alarm so you can sleep in before you have to get up.
Your peace is shattered by a toddler crying, followed by the screech of, “WHAT!” or “GET DOWN FROM THERE!”
Yeah, welcome to The Life.
Vulture has a messed-up sleep schedule. It’s partially because Kid doesn’t sleep soundly through the night, but it’s also because Vulture’s sleep schedule is essentially flipped backwards to where she stays up all night and wants to sleep during the day. Vulture says it’s “insomnia” but sometimes she’s up late gaming with Discord friends or watching anime. I couldn’t tell you which issue it was day by day. Sometimes if I go to sleep late, I hear Kid crying from her room because she had night terrors or had potty troubles. Sometimes I hear OLB and Vulture awake shuffling between rooms in the hallway.
Because of this, Vulture and mornings don’t mesh well. Kid is usually put in her room for bedtime around 7 PM, usually with her tablet to keep her company and either give her something to watch, or to play white noises for sleeping. Kid does not have a real sleep routine as well. She’s just kind of shut in her room. Sometimes there’s a bit of a routine like winding her down with chocolate milk and giving her a countdown of “okay, ten more minutes and then bedtime,” but for the most part she just does not want to go to bed. Bedtimes are met with a lot of crying, and the beardy parents telling us that she will be upset for a bit.
Kid has an attempted daily schedule, if Vulture is awake enough. Theoretically:

• 9 AM: Awake and watching TV while Vulture is on her computer in the same room
• 1 PM: In the room for naptime (but it’s usually play time)
• 4 PM: Free to run around while dad is home
• 7 PM: Bedtime (but she’s usually playing then too)

But a lot of times, that schedule gets thrown out of whack depending on if Vulture gets up on time. When she sleeps in, Kid is in her room from 7 PM to 1 PM. Sometimes Kid will make a fuss to make Vulture get up earlier than 1 PM, and Vulture will be grouchy because she “went to bed at four in the morning” because she either had “insomnia” (read: gaming or watching anime) or because Kid wouldn’t sleep. Or Vulture will be up to take care of Kid and make sure she is in a clean pull up and has eaten. Then she shuts her into her room and goes back to sleep. Sometimes if Kid is too much of a handful, Vulture will say, “It’s 12:45. That’s close enough to 1.” And put Kid in the room because that’s close enough to nap time.
Sometimes because Kid won’t go to sleep, she’ll still be up at 9 PM and that breaks her schedule too. A lot of times, it works out that OLB is the “fun” parent while he’s home, because he’s up at 4 AM to leave for work by 6 and doesn’t come home until between 4 or 5 PM. Then she spends time with him while he’s home.
There’s also a child lock on the inside of Kid’s bedroom door, those doorknob covers that you have to push and turn, so she can’t open the door and wander around unsupervised. I was originally the one who suggested the child lock, back when she was younger, and they didn’t have the secondary child gate they currently do now that’s stored in the garage. Since then, with her potty training and Vulture’s likewise awful sleep schedule, I’ve suggested more than once that they take the door handle blocker off and put up the second kiddy gate they have to block the living room and kitchen off, so she can get up if she needs to, but the child lock still remains. At most, she would have access to their room, since it doesn’t have a kiddy lock on it. Me and Z’s bedroom has a child lock on it, as well as the bathroom door. She could freely wander between her room and her parents’ room that way.
I hear Kid playing in her room by herself a lot, squealing and having fun and playing pretend. Or moving her furniture around. And no, the furniture is not secured to the wall, so she can move her bed around the room. I’ve also told OLB and Vulture they needed to make sure she can’t topple it and chain it to the wall but, yeah, that hasn’t been dealt with.
When Kid really needs attention, she will cry and wail. And I mean wail. The two beardy parents don’t have baby monitors or anything that can hear into her bedroom, so she has to wail loudly enough to be heard through the walls. Luckily, the house has thin walls. Because of her early bedtime, she’s often awake early in the morning. Sometimes Vulture will respond, sometimes Vulture won’t wake up until around noon.
Yes, that means Kid is by herself a lot.
Kid is a bubbly three-year-old. She loves it when Z and I give her attention, which admittingly isn’t as often as I would like to give her. With my own Depression™, I spend so much time fighting to just gather enough mental energy to be a productive human. Despite me wandering in a mental fog, Kid remains a bright spot in my day. I met her when she was a fresh baby bean just barely out of the hospital, and I immediately fell in love. Since then, I’ve seen her grow almost her whole life, except for when they were all in north Texas. She has blue eyes and brown hair that will curl on its own. She loves dinosaurs, Baby Shark, Octonauts, and occasionally whatever anime the parents are watching. Don’t ask me how many times I’ve heard the Baby Shark song. I don’t want it stuck in my head for another solid week.
She used to watch a lot of Ms. Rachel’s Songs For Little videos, because originally Vulture wanted Kid to learn sign language to help communicate. I’ve rarely seen Vulture attempt to upkeep the sign language lessons. She did at one point. I think after Kid started becoming more vocal, the idea was dropped. I have heard some of the familiar videos so often that even I learned the kid’s songs, but I guess that’s also part of the collateral when dealing with kid’s media.
Kid usually exists in a half-dressed state, usually just wearing a pull up and that’s it. Unfortunately, because Vulture is so hard on her tangles when she tries to brush her hair, Kid doesn’t like hair care and will fight being brushed. Her hair used to exist in a perpetual state of being matted with at least one major knot, until Vulture’s mom ended up giving her a bath and getting her to stay still enough to endure the brushing, even with the wailing of a protesting Kid going strong. Her hair was then cut to make it more manageable, and strangely, that fixed a lot of the matting problems.
Kid is let out of her room when Vulture wakes up, usually needing a diaper change. At three years old, Kid is not potty trained yet. Just from what I’ve heard from my bedroom, it sounds like OLB and Vulture are finally starting to step up on potty training, but it’s been an uphill fight. I know a few of my other parent friends have had an extremely hard time potty training their kid. I’m not a parent, so I don’t actually know how challenging it can be. I do know though that it shouldn’t sound like the toilet is some kind of punishment for peeing in her cloth panties that they’re trying to switch her to. Or, that they try to get her to sit on the toilet when she has no interest in it and she ends up throwing a tantrum. Unfortunately, without much context, that’s how some bathroom trips sound.
Kid wears pull-ups to bed and the cloth underwear during the day, or sometimes just pull-ups. They’re trying to teach her how to recognize when her body has the potty urge, which she still doesn’t quite get right now. She has literally peed on the tile floor through her cloth undies. Vulture messaged the house chat once saying, “Kid just lifted her leg while in the rolling chair and peed all over the floor.”
You know. Like a dog.
With the potty-training trouble and Kid only sometimes in pull-ups that can contain her mess, Z and I don’t let her into our room as often as we’d like to, because she doesn’t recognize when she has to go. It sucks, because Kid adores spending time with us and our room has cool animals, like my retired psychiatric service dog and our three ferrets. She loves the ferrets. But if we spend time out in the living room with everyone, Z’s patience tends to have a shorter fuse because they can’t stand Vulture (that’s also another tale I have). We’re also stuck out in the general mess of the living room if we are out there with her. It’s either the general mess that toddlers make, spilled food, and general filth. The best times we’ve had spending time with Kid is just chilling in our room as she ooh’s and ahh’s over the ferrets or watches TV with us. Z and I quote SpongeBob line by line daily, and she has watched some of the show with us.
I feel awful about shutting Kid out so much, when I see the way Vulture interacts with her. On Vulture’s bad days (if you read the previous post, that’s almost every day), she acts like Kid is a chore. She will snap at Kid, act like Kid is choosing to act out of maliciousness and make “tired mom” jokes that sound like she just flat out doesn’t like Kid. When I had liquor in the fridge, Vulture would ask if she could take a shot because, “I need it. She’s trying me today.”
Some choice quotes talking down about the kid:
“I’m being hard on her because she’s not using her words. Like I know she can. She just doesn’t want to.” This was what Vulture said to me after Kid kept trying to get her attention and wouldn’t explain what she wanted. Kid was just making noises at her and getting frustrated. Vulture full on shouted, “WHAT!” at her, then turned to me to try and explain why she shouted.
“This is the bad part about being a mom. She’s not letting me do anything right now.” This was said after Vulture cleaned her desk and was attempting to watch YouTube videos and play her Switch.
On her good days, Vulture will be that kind of smiling parent that does some art activities and engages with Kid in a way that’s more than just screaming. They color together. She offers Kid choices so Kid can have some control over what happens in her day, like, “Do you want bologna or fruit?” It has helped Kid become more vocal and even though she’s still speech delayed, she talks more and has a bigger vocabulary.
The house has a different atmosphere when OLB is home, compared to when Vulture is just watching Kid by herself. I’ve told OLB that I think Vulture is burned out. Her entire life is her disabilities and being a mom. She only has friends on Discord really, and OLB had to push her to start talking to them again just so she had someone to socialize with.
Old Doormat me pitied her at the beginning of our friendship. I tried being her friend. I tried to include her and Kid in a lot of things. My own mental health, my daily obligations, my gym schedule, and just me changing rapidly since 2020 altered my life, exhausted me, and left me unable to deal with Vulture talking a million miles a minute, info dumping about whatever she’s currently doing every single time I run into her. And as I shed my doormat self, I started seeing her clearly.
I told OLB once that if Vulture is truly burned out or if her health problems are causing that much trouble, Kid might need daycare or another caregiver to help. OLB is aware but can’t afford other care. He’s working for bottom of the barrel pay at a full-time job. Most days after work, he just wants to zone out to his own games in front of his computer but has to step in and parent both Vulture and Kid, because Vulture often needs help organizing through executive dysfunction to do something. Or, because she will call for his help.
There was one time where Kid climbed on top of her, and Vulture called for OLB – who was in the same room – to pull Kid off her. There are quite a few times where Vulture calls for OLB for help with Kid, and I’ve heard him say that he’s also busy too. One time he asked, “Why are you asking for my help when you’re closer?”
Z has offered to look after Kid at times because they don’t mind Kid being in our room or just hanging out. She has hung out with us when I also have the mental energy and the room is clean enough to accommodate a toddler crawling on everything. The problem that we both see is that our stepping in isn’t a full solution. She can spend a few hours with us, but ultimately after, she goes right back to Vulture and OLB. Vulture is the one who acts like being a parent is a chore.
There are times that OLB has snapped at Vulture for the way she gets on to Kid, emphasizing, “She’s just a child.” Their parenting styles are like looking at two entirely different planets and trying to find similarities. OLB is very much into the gentle parenting side of Tik Tok. He talks about breaking generational trauma. He’s usually gentle with Kid, explaining why she’s not allowed to do things like stand on top of her highchair or why I’m too busy to play with her as I’m zooming around the house in and out repeatedly some days. He has talked her down from meltdowns and keeps his voice even to where she can’t bounce off him to amplify her tantrums. He spanks her, but as a last resort, and then also talks to her about why the punishment happened. She will wail through everything and likely isn’t fully listening, but ultimately, I see him trying to work with her. He very rarely loses his actual temper with her.
Vulture is the total opposite. She yells at Kid, spanks with no hesitation and doesn’t explain why. One of Kid’s favorite games to play is “Block the door” when I’m trying to get through the house. She will block my bedroom door, cling to me, then circle around me as Vulture or OLB tries to distract her or lure her away by asking “do you want chocolate” or some other treat. Sometimes Kid just likes to play ring-around-the-rosie around my legs, as her parents try to grab her. I try to make it fun and seem like I’m not mad at her, because I’m never actually mad at her for blocking my way. Usually, I’m just in the middle of some arbitrary task or running an errand or coming back from the gym with my one remaining brain cell barely hanging on for dear life. I try to engage with her and play it off as a game because she’s not actually doing anything wrong.
Vulture has lured her away with chocolate and treats, with offers of food, with trying to get her to pick a show to watch. If that fails, she will come and fetch Kid by hand. One time involved yanking her physically off me and spanking her on the bare bottom because Kid was happy playing a game instead of listening.
The bare bottom is a thing, too. Because Kid used to live in soiled diapers for much longer than she was supposed to, she had constant diaper rash that she had to see the doctor for sometimes. She also didn’t want OLB or Vulture to change her diapers and would scream when it was diaper change time. I don’t blame her. The diaper rash hurt, and Vulture wasn’t exactly gentle with changing. Kid bled sometimes with the changings. So now, sometimes Kid will be dressed like Donald Duck in only a top to air out her bottom. Or because now, with the cloth undies, she will pee straight through them, and they just let her air out after.
Kid always smells a bit like pee. So does her room. And her bedding. After I pointed out that her bedding straight out of the dryer smelled like urine, OLB went about cleaning the washing machine with a machine cleaner, and bought scent beads to help cut the smell, after I told him that a little vinegar in the wash load will cut the smells down. Now her bedding doesn’t smell so much like urine, but it’s still there.
Her bedroom frequently smells like a public bathroom. It always looks like her bedroom has been turned upside down, with toys everywhere, her bed pushed to the middle of the room, the mattress on the floor. Books she was given were shredded, even the cardboard ones. There was straight up garbage left in her room because she was given food to eat there that had wrappers. It usually takes Vulture a full day of cleaning to get the room organized when she had the energy to do it, but she usually sanitizes with just a baby wipe, if she does at all. Maybe a pet cleaner sometimes.
There was one time where I was letting the dogs outside and I stepped in a puddle on the tile floor. That was when I realized that it was a pee puddle and Kid’s cloth underwear was dripping. I asked Vulture to clean the puddle up. When she asked to use my steam mop, she didn’t clean the cloth pad after, so when I turned the mop on next, it smelled like hot, steamed urine. I had to clean the mop pad off myself and rinse the pee out of it. When Kid again peed in front of the TV in her cloth undies, I told OLB that if they’re going to use my steam mop to make sure that the mop pad is rinsed off or it will smell like pee the next time it’s used, but he said he was just going to use his mop and bucket. Thankfully.
Because of the diet that OLB and Vulture has, Kid also eats like them. She gets a lot of macaroni, a lot of random odds and ends like pieces of bread, baggies of cheerios, sometimes fruit and vegetables. Lots of chicken nuggets and frozen instant food. Occasionally, Kid will have an interest in vegetables she sees us cook with or that she’s never had. Like once she insisted that she wanted to eat canned peas, until she tasted them. She chewed on a lettuce leaf and put it down, then asked for another one because she wanted to eat something, and it looked tasty to her.
The two halves of the household make separate foods now and keep out of each other’s food, but sometimes Vulture will give Kid some of the food I cooked because Kid saw my spaghetti noodles in a bowl and insisted on having them by way of tantrum. Instead of asking me if it’s okay (which obviously, I’d say yes, Kid can have some), Vulture just gave her my food and then told me after. Maybe I’m just projecting my own frustration, but it feels like Vulture uses Kid as a shield sometimes, to get food. Unless I have a specific purpose for food like what I put in my meal prep containers, I wouldn’t say no to Kid.
Kid’s diet makes me worried for her as she grows up. OLB is big and tall, over 6 feet tall and over 300lbs. They aren’t an active family at all. Kid drinks soda when they get fast food. She eats as much processed food as Vulture. Right now, she’s growing like a weed and is tall and actually has some power in her tiny limbs, which is most noticeable when she climbs you like a ladder, but her parents are gamers that just sit around. Her own screen time is almost as lengthy as theirs is.
I worry about Kid, constantly. Z does too. We have theorized calling CPS, or trying to adopt her, or just getting her away from Vulture. We have thrown around ideas about talking to OLB and convincing him that Vulture isn’t a good person for Kid. A lot of it has stayed in theory because the anxious part of me is still afraid to make life-altering waves like that. I second-guess and gaslight myself into realizing how bad things are, but then telling myself, maybe I’m just blowing it out of proportion. Maybe it's just something they have to handle. Maybe it’s something a first-time parent needs to learn. Maybe Vulture just isn’t feeling good that day. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
It’s a leftover of the doormat I used to be, and I know that. The tiny fragment of anxiety that tells me I’m blowing things up into too big a deal. The tiny fragment that escaped a toxic marriage and just wants peace after arguing every single day. The side that hates confrontation.
Maybe I’m just a plain ol’ coward. I don’t know yet. I just know my patience is running thinner with every passing day.
I don’t think I could convince OLB to dump Vulture. From what I’ve seen on the surface, they’re not openly affectionate. Vulture complains all the time that OLB doesn’t give her any physical affection, and she (unfortunately) tells me when they’re intimate, which doesn’t sound often. They almost look like they could be friends that are co-parenting. She calls him her husband when they’re out in public, and OLB has stated that he doesn’t want anything to happen to her, because he doesn’t want a single parent. I assume at the very least that he does love her, even though he sounds exhausted all the time. Z and I wonder if maybe he feels trapped.
OLB is good at asking for help if he needs it, although he hates being a burden to others. He will speak up if Vulture needs a ride to a doctor’s office, and he forgot to leave the car seat at home. I’ve driven to his work to pick it up after he messaged me asking if I could. They ask his family to babysit Kid if they want to go out and just have a good date or see a movie together. They are clearly capable of asking for help.
This is just an acceptable standard for both, or at least that’s the way it seems to me. Sometimes, I don’t truly know if OLB is aware of what Vulture does while he’s at work. He didn’t know that she used his 11-year-old dog as a vacuum cleaner to clean up spilled table scraps until I pointed it out and then he pieced together why his dog wasn’t losing weight on a reduced kibble diet. Sometimes I have pointed out things to him that he might not notice in the house chat.
I started keeping a log in Google Docs about things I notice, and Z and I talk about it in discord, so it’s not heard by ears that are too close to our bedroom. The log started helping me see that I’m not just blowing out of proportion and that in turn helped me come here to reddit. As a former doormat in recovery, I still have to tell myself that it’s okay to realize that something is wrong, and that I may need help getting my voice to speak up.
I haven’t worked since 2017, when my mental health took a sharp nosedive. Z is currently looking for work. Both of us are home all day exposed to Vulture and how she treats Kid. With my own daily tasks, errands, struggling with mental health, there’s still a side of me that berates me that I need to be taking care of Kid. Getting her up, making sure she eats. Pestering Vulture to get up. This is also where I tangle with the former doormat that still lives in me, because one, I don’t want to enable Vulture to get even worse. With someone taking the burden off of her, that gives her more free time to just sit back and game. It isn’t my job to make sure that Vulture is a good parent, yet somehow, I feel like it’s also my fault that she’s as bad as she is while I sit by the wayside and just talk about her behind her back. There are times where I have pestered OLB through discord about Kid crying, or how Kid is trying to beat the door down, or asking if Vulture is up for the day because I haven’t seen her up at three in the afternoon.
I started speaking up when I noticed something that’s off. I call this the “cheese incident.” We had a block of cheese that was cut in the wrapper and not in anything else, so the exposed end got all hard and inedible. I cut it off and threw it away. Vulture made her way into the kitchen because Kid saw me cutting cheese and wanted some.
Vulture: Who threw away that cheese?
(SHE PICKS IT UP OUT OF THE TRASH CAN)
Me: Yeah, it’s got that hard bit
Vulture: So? I know someone who will eat it.
(She calls Kid over)
Me: But it was in the trash.
Vulture: It’s okay, I cut off the part that was touching the trash.
Me: Dude, that’s fucked up.
Vulture: (hesitating now) Should I not?
Me: That’s probably going to make her sick again.
(Kid has been sick back-to-back at this point)
Vulture: Okay, then I won’t.
(To this day, I don’t know if she threw the cheese away or ate it herself, and I’m afraid to ask)
That was the point where I started pointing out that what she’s doing is problematic. It’s a slow process, but it’s helped me put the doormat side of me away again. I’ve explained to Vulture that Kid isn’t crying to be malicious, she just can’t express what she wants. Especially with Kid’s speech delay! Kid gets frustrated fast when adults don’t understand her, and the wailing begins. There’s no maliciousness behind it, just frustration. Or how Kid doesn’t like being told “no” because she doesn’t always understand why. Strangely, every time I call something out, she doesn’t really have much of a fight against it.
But why am I having to say it in the first place?
There’s little things that just rub me the wrong way in how they interact. Sometimes Vulture will call Kid over in the same way you’d call a dog. Repeatedly. Sometimes Vulture, in a state of migraine or other illness-related grouchiness will scream at her “Leave me alone!” and OLB will have to fetch Kid. One time, Z told me that Vulture outright mocked her crying by making her own crying noise.
What’s awful to watch in person is that when Vulture’s mom or siblings are over, Vulture is suddenly a doting mom who isn’t perpetually exhausted or loudly complaining about how her “everything” hurts. She talks in an overly sweet voice to Kid. It unsettles me with how two-faced it seems. OLB, Vulture, and Kid go have dinner with OLB’s family every Sunday evening, and I can’t help but wonder how two-faced she is there, as well. Some of OLB’s family doesn’t like Vulture to begin with.
Slowly, I am losing patience at how Vulture behaves, especially with the Kid. I had to un-gaslight myself, start logging her behavior, and talk to other people to really see it for what it was. I told multiple friends about it and we all generally have the same consensus that Vulture is just an unfit parent. If her chronic illnesses are truly interfering with her life that much, she shouldn’t be the majority caregiver through the day. But it’s not like OLB would be able to work from home or be the stay-at-home parent. In a perfect world, I would be able to help more as well, but I’m barely the “fun” aunt. I’m barely equipped to help care for a three-year-old. Hell, most days I’m barely an actual person.
Kid deserves better.
Bottom line, Kid deserves better than what this house can give. I am upset with myself over my lack of action, but the logs have only been growing bigger. Every day, the doormat dies a little more.
Vulture herself though, will likely always be a side show. One thing that Z pointed out to me was that, as the doormat I used to be, I would give everything to help someone even when I was mentally exhausted. I enmeshed myself too much into the lives of my friends because I loved making them happy and making their lives easier. It’s gotten me into some awkward territory with Vulture, because some things were interpreted as more than friendship.
You ready to cringe more? Because the next part is going to deal with polyamory, the desire for open relationships, and the main reason why Z despises her – and that’s putting it mildly.
Take a moment to un-cringe yourself. It ain’t over yet.

My husband's Z Flip 4 stopped turning on. When I i went to ATT about it they told me that we have to contact Samsung since its a software issue not a battery issue. He cannot log into his Samsung account without then sending a verification code to his phone. How else can we start the process without him signing into his Samsung account?

For context, we were dating for 1.5 years and we were pretty happy in the earlier parts of the relationship. We started as friends and developed into more over the course of 3 months in college. We have a lot of shared interests and we handled arguments pretty easily together. We took things slow in our relationship to build a good foundation and we were really in love with each other. We have really crazy once in a lifetime memories together that I don't think either of us could forget about.
Towards the ends of our relationship (the last month of it) I was putting too much pressure on her to spend more time with me and I would check in on her too much while she was out with friends making sure she was okay. It wasn't crazy person levels of checking in but it was enough to make her uncomfortable/annoyed with me doing it. I ended up being pretty clingy for the past month we were together, before that I still asked if she wanted to hangout too much but I wasn't nearly as needy back then. After a I bothered her two nights in a row she said she has lost romantic feelings for me. Obviously it was because I was being needy and I sought out a lot of time together rather than quality time together. We tried to make things work for a week but by then she said she wants to break up. I didn't fight her breakup since it seemed like she needed the space and I didn't want to make her stick in a situation where she wasn't happy. She was really sad during the breakup and didn't wish we had to but she felt like it would be inevitable if we didn't. We both handled it very maturely and remain on good terms.
After we broke up, we mostly cut contact, but I sent like 2 total texts at different times near the beginning of the breakup saying that I missed her and she's in my thoughts and I love her to let her know she is cared for, nothing like begging for her back. She responded in kind with stuff like "It's been really hard" and "I miss/love you too." We also ran into each other at the gym on a few occasions and said hi. At one point we arranged a meetup to walk my dog together and on it she said that she would be willing to try the relationship again when summer ends with a fresh start and that she doesn't know if she's ready to talk yet since she is still grieving the breakup and it feels too fresh to do anything together (this was 3 weeks post breakup). She said she would probably be ready to talk again when school ended which is next week. I have barely talked to her and just been giving her as much space as I'm able to since it's what she wanted. A few days ago (week 5 of the breakup) I dropped off a jacket I thought was hers (turns out it wasn't) a scarf I got for her and a letter. This letter wasn't an attempt to get her back, the contents of it were just me apologizing for where I went wrong in the relationship and that I would approach the relationship differently and I hope we can start building up a friendship and whatever happens happens. It was short, sweet, and sincere.
She texted me saying "Thanks for thinking of me, that's really nice of you. I appreciate the letter also." She also was laughing because it wasn't her sweater and said I can come around to pick it back up before she leaves for the summer and she walked out to hand it to me, not leaving it at doorstep. Almost all of her texts have been friendly (hearts and smiley faces) and straight forward, telling me kinda what she wants/needs. She also kept up the majority of our photos together up online and hasn't removed me from any of her social media. We can contact each other at any time and I'm sure she would respond fairly quick.
I really have taken a lot of time to evaluate why I felt the way I did in those moments and what would be different this time and I think I have become a genuinely better person and could be a better partner and I learned what healthier boundaries are. I can give more info into the relationship in comments if needed. I was thinking that I could reach out sometime in the next week or two to start actually talking again slowly and build up rapport to get a connection between us. She is going to be going across the country where she doesn't really know anyone over the summer for an internship so I'm assuming that she would appreciate someone to talk to when there isn't going to be many people where she is.
She has not been with any guys and doesn't participate in any hookup culture so I know she didn't leave me to be with anyone else, so just don't bother putting that in the comments.
Also, as another bit of background, towards the beginning of our relationship I drank too much alcohol at threw up at her place which made her really upset and she broke up and we talked it out a few days later and got back together, so she is isn't a one and done kinda person. She also was really upset that before the breakup I said breakups are final to me since she still wanted me in her life, but in one of my few messages to her I apologized for saying that and I would still like to be in each other's life (I originally said that because my last ex made life hell being off/on). Her parents had also broken up multiple times and gotten back together so maybe that is something to consider so she *probably* also shares the view that you can get back together.
If we got back together I think it would be for good this time and we wouldn't continue a pattern of breaking up only to get back together. I do think this breakup has been healthy for me and needed, I would just like the chance to get back together.
Tldr: My ex lost feelings but we remained kind together and I want to know if it's possible to get back together.
My question is if it sounds like I have a good chance of getting back together as well as what would be the best way to reach out to herebuild a connection?