My boyfriend never liked me going anywhere alone.
If I said I was going to the mall, he wanted to come.
If I said I was meeting a friend, he wanted to know who would be there.
Even going to get my hair done became a whole conversation.
At first, I thought he was just protective.
Then one Saturday, I told him I wanted to go out for lunch by myself.
He immediately said, “Why can’t I come with you?”
I saw my girlfriend in my boss's car one evening.
I called her immediately.
Me: “What were you doing in my boss's car?”
Her: “You saw me? I was just getting a ride home.”
I wanted to believe her.
But it kept happening.
Sometimes she'd tell me she was going home, then disappear for hours.
Other times, she'd suddenly show up at my workplace.
Me: “What are you doing here?”
Her: “I missed you.”
But something never felt right.
Then one afternoon, I saw her walking out of my boss's private office.
She froze when she saw me.
Me: “What were you doing in there?”
Her: “Nothing.”
I walked into the office.
My boss was sitting behind his desk.
I looked at him.
Then at her.
Everything finally made sense.
Me: “So this is what has been happening?”
Neither of them answered.
A girl confessed to my boyfriend that she loved him.
I found out because he showed me the message.
At first, I laughed.
“Who is she?”
He said, “Just a girl I know. I’ve never given her a reason to think I like her.”
I read the message again.
She had written:
“I know you have a girlfriend, but I’ve been hiding this for too long. I love you.”
I looked at him.
“What did you reply?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation bothered me more than the confession.
My aunt called me on Sunday morning and told me to come home early.
I asked her what was happening.
She said, “Nothing serious. Just come.”
That “nothing serious” immediately worried me.
When I arrived, everyone was already in the sitting room.
My mum was quiet. My aunt was sitting with her arms crossed, and my cousin kept looking at the floor.
I greeted everyone and sat down.
Nobody said anything.
Finally, I asked, “Okay… why am I here?”
My aunt looked at me and said, “Your cousin has something to tell you.”
I looked at my cousin.
She wouldn't even look at me.
There’s a certain set of people on this app who will never notice you, no matter how much you engage them. Follow them all you want you’re still invisible………….
Why is it that most men doesn't like sharing their worries with their girlfriends or wives but expect us to tell them everything going on in our lives.
Hypocrites !!!
MY GRANDMOTHER TAUGHT ME THIS AT 19. NOW AT 38, I FINALLY GET IT.
1. "A woman with standards will often eat alone. A woman with none will never eat in peace."
Landlord: Your partner is here too much.
Me: We’re in love. That’s kind of the point.
Landlord: Love doesn’t pay the extra water bill.
Me: Neither does loneliness, but somehow that’s allowed.
Landlord: I’m not running a couples retreat.
Me: Good. Because we’re not on retreat. We’re just trying to build a life between two jobs and one small kitchen.
Landlord: Find somewhere else then.”
Me: “I already did. It’s called here. With her.
He never answered.
We still cook dinner together on Sundays.
Sometimes the best revenge is just being happy in a place they wish you weren’t.
It's been 15 years . I proposed to her thrice and got rejected by her thrice and now I was her "best friend". I never really did get over her. She felt like a bundle of water which I was trying to hold with my hands. We changed from school to college , she changed from baggy jeans , messy t shirts to kurtis , leggings and makeup , I went from dented to shattered .
I remember how I had butterflies in my stomach whenever she uploaded a pic and how insecure I felt whenever it was with a guy. I remember the kilometers I traveled just to see her for a few minutes .
I remember how stupid I was .
Years went by , we got busy in our own lives but still talked on the phone sometimes . Whenever she called , my feelings got stronger .
Then I met someone - "the one" .
She made me realize what love is . It dawned upon me that I was in love with the idea of loving my "ex" , but not actually HER .
Now I know what true love is and I want to go and tell that 18 year old me - "What you are feeling right now is not love but arrogance mixed with hurt ego."
This week I'm renting out my house for my friend, pretty easy job, cat and water plants.
Before she left, she walked me around (skipping one room upstairs).
I ask her what it is and she says, "oh, don't worry about that one, it's locked anyway, just leave it.
Fine, anyway, it's not my house.
Except it was not really locked, and I saw the second night when the cat pushed the door open a little bit, and went after some thing.
I didn't go in, I just turned around and said, "mind your business.
But, last night, I heard something from there; like a thud, once, nothing after.
I texted her asking if she had a window open in that room, or something, and she didn't respond until 2 hours later.
she told him, "don't go in there, don't go in there, I mean, I will explain it when I get back.
i've got 4 more days here alone with a room i was told not to enter into, that apparently isn't as locked as she thinks it is.
At our school reunion, everyone was talking about how successful they had become.
One was a lawyer. Another had started a company. Someone else was married with three children.
Then one of the popular girls looked around and laughed.
“Do you guys remember that quiet girl who used to sit at the back?”
Everyone started guessing.
“The one with glasses?”
“No, the one who never talked.”
“I think she dropped out.”
I stayed quiet.
My uncle told everyone I stole $12,000 from the family business.
Nobody asked me what happened.
They just stopped speaking to me.
My mother called and said:
“Return the money before this destroys the family.”
I said, “Mom, I didn’t take anything.”
She replied:
“Your uncle showed us the records.”
That night, I checked the company’s accounting system.
There were transfers I had never made.
But they were under my login.
My son came home furious because the school janitor had erased his name from a classroom desk. He’s seventeen and graduating this year. Apparently seniors had started writing tiny messages underneath their desks before leaving. Nothing destructive. Names, graduation year, little jokes. My son wrote his name and underneath it, “I survived this place.” Next morning it was gone. He complained all through dinner. Two days later he came home quiet. He’d finally asked the janitor why he erased it.
A 17-year-old high school girl was standing alone outside a train station during a heavy storm, completely soaked.
An older woman noticed her.
“Where’s your umbrella?”
The girl looked down.
“I lost it.”
The woman opened hers and handed it to her.
“Take mine.”
The girl immediately shook her head.
“No, I can’t.”
“You’ll get sick. Take it.”
“But then you’ll get wet.”
“I’m an adult. You’re not.”
The girl finally accepted it and kept thanking her as she walked away.
A delivery driver handed me a package.
“Sign here.”
I looked at the label.
My name was correct.
But I hadn’t ordered anything.
“Who sent it?”
He checked his phone.
“It says you.”
I opened the box after he left.
Inside was an envelope.
I opened it.
There was a photograph of my front door.
I followed the voice.
A door marked 12 had appeared at the end of the hallway.
The receptionist begged me not to open it.
But the door unlocked itself.
Inside was a perfect copy of my bedroom.
Same bed.
Same curtains.
Same photographs.
Even my clothes were hanging in the wardrobe.
On the bed was a notebook.
Every page said:
“You always forget.”
The final page had today's date.
Underneath:
“Tonight, he remembers.”
Then someone knocked from inside the wardrobe.
I checked into a guesthouse and was given a key to Room 12.
The problem?
There were only 11 rooms.
I went back downstairs.
The receptionist stared at the key.
“I've never seen that before.”
Then an old man in the corner warned me:
“Don't use it.”
I asked why.
He said:
“Room 12 only appears for people who have stayed here before.”
I had never been there.
Then I heard my own voice calling my name from upstairs.
I’m pretty convinced my upstairs neighbor (male) is a porn artist (get your bag king). After a year of… involuntary fundings, let’s just say there’s always a new girl. Love that for them. So if I’m not judging, why am I on threads complaining? Oh, let me tell you.
Last night’s partner was the loudest yet. I mean LOUD, LOUD… full on commentary 😭 I already know he’s good, I hear the weekly performances. And yes, I tried white noise… didn’t work. I even have audio if y’all wanna suffer with me 🤣