r/tifu • u/lazybear90 • 10d ago
L TIFU by donating $15,041 to a poor community in Bangladesh instead of the $150 donation I intended.
This happened in February of last year, but my friends have been telling me I need to post this story online … so here goes nothing:
My wife and I (both 31 years old, at the time) moved into a new three-unit apartment building in San Francisco. One of our neighbors is a 70-something year old retired veteran, we’ll call him Joe. For context, Joe is a white American guy and he’s also a devout Hindu priest. One day I run into Joe in my hallway, and he tells me about this charity he manages for a community in Bangladesh. I wanted to support my neighbor and the charity, so I ask Joe to send me the GoFundMe link.
The next day at work, I go on the GoFundMe page and donate $150. Or so I thought. Moments later, I get a text on my phone warning me of an unusually large transaction on my credit card. I’m confused and swipe to open the text message. It says I have made a payment of $15,041 to GoFundMe. Immediately I’m sweating. How could I have donated FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS? I spend the next 10-15 minutes retracing my steps, and finally I realize my credit card starts with the numbers 4 and 1. It seems I had accidentally started typing my credit card information while my cursor was still in the donation box, and just like that 150 became 15041. Yikes.
I call GoFundMe’s support line in a panic, and when I finally connect with a human I explain what happened. “No need to worry”, he tells me, they will initiate a refund of the transaction which should process in 3-7 business days. That’s a huge relief. But then I ask the agent if the charity will be able to see the donation on the GoFundMe page until it is refunded. “What do you mean?” the agent asks me. “What do YOU mean what do I mean?” was my response. “Will they be able to see the $15,041 donation?!” Unfortunately, yes, the agent tells me. They will be able to see it until the refund process is complete. I tell him that’s a big problem, as the entire GoFundMe had hardly raised that much at that point. Surely they will notice their fundraiser doubling overnight?
My plan was to knock on Joe’s door the following morning to give him the full story, so that he could pass it along to his contacts in Bangladesh. But when I woke up the next morning, I looked at my phone and saw I had 40+ notifications on Facebook. Someone had sent me a friend request, had liked many of my old posts, and had sent me many messages. Immediately I was concerned when I saw that the individual messaging me had a Hindu name, but I never could have imagined what I saw when I opened his first message…
The man had sent me a video of himself from Bangladesh, surrounded by dozens of impoverished and hungry people holding bags of food, thanking me BY NAME (Michael) for my generous donation. A big round of applause for Michael. At this point, I’ve leapt out of my bed and I’m pacing. Part of me wants to scream, part of me wants to crack up laughing. I start swiping through the man’s messages, and it is picture after picture after picture of poor Bangladeshis thanking me for my kind donation. Literally hundreds of photos of frail, elderly, disabled, and malnourished individuals holding signs with my name. Thank you, Michael. Thank you, Michael. I've uploaded a portion of the video, and a few photos, for you guys to see here: https://imgur.com/gallery/tROXniV
Needless to say, I couldn’t live with myself just donating $150 after seeing how the community responded to the $15,041. I decided the least I could do was to add a zero, and so I donated $1,500 once the original donation was refunded. The charity’s host was incredibly gracious and understanding, and he explained to me that $1,500 goes very far in Bangladesh for urgent food relief. Here is the charity’s new GoFundMe link if you want to check it out: https://www.gofundme.com/f/urgent-food-relief-assistance-in-bangladesh
Ultimately I think the whole experience was a win-win. I helped a great cause, and I got a funny story out of it.
TL;DR: Some impoverished folks in Bangladesh thought I had sent them $15,041 but it was an accident and I had to request a refund for most of it.
EDIT: Many are asking why there is no $1,500 donation listed in the fund’s donation history. I donated to an old campaign link for the same charity. It is readily findable online, if you feel compelled to search for it.
L TIFU by trying to help my husband out and pop his mega pimple.
So just a little background info for context here, my husband is one of those pimple popper dudes. He loves to pop pimples. He often requests to pop my pimples that I can't reach, or even ones I CAN reach, that just appear especially.... juicy...yuck. Me on the other hand, I hate it. I hate having my pimples popped, I hate popping pimples. I wish I could just zap them off. Plus, it always hurts more when he does it...he doesn't have gentle fingers. He's got big meaty sausage man fingers that don't delicately do ANYTHING. I love him through thick and thin though, and so he gets to pop my pimples sometimes. And I will oblige and pop the ones for him that he cannot reach. Like the ones on his back or back of his legs. What did he ever do before me right? Anyway, onto my fuck up.
This morning I roll onto my side and begin to wake up. I'm still sort of groggy, sort of in and out, BUT what I see is my husband who's laying on his stomach, snoring peacefully. I begin to try and rouse (not AROUSE, learn the difference!!!) my husband by rubbing his back and playing with his hair and just in general being sweet. And holy mother of all that's disgusting...my husband has a pimple on his back that is just...huge. I mean this thing could be a cyst for all I know. Okay well maybe not a cyst it's not THAT big, but still...it's pretty large. And I can just tell.........this is going to be one he WANTS me to pop. He's going to wake up...feel it...see it...and beg me to pop it. So instead of delaying the inevitable, and while I'm feeling up to the task, I decide ok...I'll do it. All the pus that comes out? He is going to...freak. He will probably give me some sort of like...best wife ever award. At the very least he's going to not have this disgusting thing on his back anymore so that's a win too.
So, I ready my fingers and my mind...I find this thing again and I am locked on. I am steady. I get my fingers in prime...no. Not prime. optimal...yeah.... OPTIMAL squeezing position. And I'm ready. He breathes in and as he's breathing out, I SQUEEZE. I mean I just...go for it. I'm not as good as he is...and I have to loosen my grip and reposition QUICKLY and squeeze again to really get under it...but by God, I've got it...and it....is......!!!!
And let me explain to you why. See here is another little background info tidbit for context. I'm pregnant with my third child. And one thing that has been very consistent with all three children is that well...I have very vivid and convincing dreams during pregnancy. I mean with my last pregnancy I had a dream me and Rihanna were an item and when I awoke to a white man (granted a handsome white man) in bed with me INSTEAD of Rihanna I was genuinely shocked and dare I say a little angry. ANYWHO. back to this morning. Where was I? Oh yeah, popping my husband's mega pimple.
Wrong. See I dreamed all of that and all I had actually done was reach over, in my sleepy stupor and proceeded to pinch. the ever-loving shit...out of my husband's right nipple. oh yes and not just pinched, but also proceeded to yank. My husband ... my poor poor husband...awoke to having his nipple yanked in a sick game of titty twister that would have made any of my guy friends back in middle school proud. Mind you this is also the nipple he is missing half of ALREADY due to a freak accident involving him and his stupid high school friends, a truck and a poorly placed jack. So, he's got a little PTSD involving that nip already. Well, my husband is screaming, which wakes me up, and before I can even understand what I'm doing he is flailing around and I am now screaming "What the fuck!" as I try to roll my rather large, 8 months pregnant, body out of the way (to no avail) and I promptly get elbowed in the throat. SO. now I've let go. I'm coughing cause I can't breathe. Hés rolled over and is guarding what's left of his nipple, cupping his hand to his chest and just keeps saying "What is WRONG with you???" which of course I cannot answer because I have been elbowed in the fucking throat. Eventually I do croak out though that I was trying to pop his pimple and he just looks at me with this look on his face that just says, "I'm so glad you're pretty" and that was how we started our day.
I thought I was popping my husband's pimple, therefore doing him a favor. Turns out, I was dreaming that I was doing this nice thing for him and instead I was attempting to rip his nipple off his body as he slept. He screamed. I got elbowed in the throat because I'm too fat at this moment to roll out of the way quickly. And that was how we both began our morning.
r/tifu • u/oDamiannn • 5d ago
L TIFU by putting my school in hysteria by creating a mandatory penis inspection prank
I did not believe my senior prank would backfire on me as hard as it did, but here we are.
This happened a couple of weeks ago but it's too funny not to talk about.
So I (18m) came out with the amazing idea to participate in the senior pranks in my school. There weren't many pranks being made at the school to begin with so it was kind of a disappointing way to end of the school year. For some background, my school has about 1,000 people in it, so it's relatively small; That also means word spreads incredibly quick, this is also important.
I came up with the genius idea to create a "mandatory penis inspection" that was going to be run by someone with the name of "Dixie Normis" and had it labeled as a graduation requirement. How did I come up with such a genius idea? The internet! More specifically, a reddit post with a similar idea. I cobbled up the document on my school Chromebook, working on and off on it for the next couple of weeks. Adding a tweak here, editing a date here, changing the wording there, forgetting it here and there. Eventually I found my time to strike and I was elated that some of my friends found it humorous and encouraged this prank to be done.
Now the setup; I've been in the school theater club for about 3 years now, I've familiarized myself with the way it works and the way rehearsals usually work out. I found my opportunity to strike, the 8 pm rehearsal days. I left for home, bringing a roll of scotch tape and the magnum opus that I created on my school Chromebook. I waited until rehearsals started and conjured my plan while I was tuning my guitars. I would wait until the 5 minute break before I strike on the unsuspecting school. So I did just that, a couple hours past after the final bell of the day rang and I conveniently had to take a bathroom break. Additionally, it was extremely convenient that the baseball team had just left the bathroom in question which gave me the impression that I would have something to fall back on if my genius plan did not go according. I stood in front of the door, the restroom unsuspecting on how I was about to defile it- and so I struck. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I dug through my bookbag pulling out my folder and pulling out the roll of scotch tape and tainting the stalls with my product. After 1 short minute, my prank was complete. I walked out of the bathroom pretending to be oblivious to what had just transpired and I kept it that way.
The next day, I woke up to dozens of reposts of the supposed "Mandatory Penis Inspections" that were supposed to happen at school the following day. It spread quickly among grade levels, the post being shared over and over again on different profiles, being exposed to different eyes each time. It got to a point where the school was alerted and then became a taboo topic to speak about. Any mention from that day about the penis inspection was met with scolding and threats of detention. Seniors and underclassmen were called down to the office by the number, only to be met with interrogating about what had transpired.
Here's where I fucked up. Not only did I forget about the camera that's in the hallway in front of the bathroom, but the fact it was only the theater club and baseball team in the school which narrowed the suspects down quite significantly. Did I also mention the day of the inspection was the day of the theater production? Nope. I did not. This amalgamation of "Not onlys" created quite the interesting scenario for the following day. I had slept in the day of the show, my plan to show up during my last period to show up before we began to ready the equipment and leave enough time to touch up any areas that might be work. I woke up to various missed calls by one of my band members, telling me that I fucked up and that I was in a lot of shit. One thing came to mind: The penis inspection. My bandmate had told me that I was at risk of getting kicked out of the show or even having the show canceled altogether (a production that we had been working on for about 3 months at the time) and having my graduation revoked if measures were to be taken that drastically. He told me that the principal required me at school that instant and threatened me with various disciplinary measures.
I rushed to school, frantically getting out of the house and sprinting down the sidewalk trying to get to school as quickly as possible. When I finally got to the school, I was greeted by the ever so friendly Ring doorbell summoning me to the office that instant. I timidly entered, trying my best to play stupid- I was being scolded for missing most of the school day. My moment of relief was quickly cut short by the piercing yell of my name down the office. My principal looked at me with a fiery scowl, eyeing me down across the room like a lion readying for it's next kill. She told me to go on with my day and that we were going to have a pleasant chat after.
My body was filled with terror the remaining 3 periods. I trudged through the hallways with ice in my veins, terrified of the impending scolding later. Fast forward to the end of the school day, I was walking down the hallway when I heard my name being called on the intercom. My body froze, my heart skipped a beat, and my mind went numb for an instant. I had felt the cold hand of death on my very body that instant. Knowing very well this was self inflicted, I had no escape as my legs walked to the office, my body wanting to run the opposite direction. What justification did I have for this you may ask? If you know it was going to cause this much of a turmoil, WHAT could possibly be the justification? It's funny. I walked with a pale face down to the office and was called down into the principal's personal office. The door slammed behind me and I stood before my principal, my stomach in my throat. She pulled out one of the inspection papers and slide it on the desk across to me, "Do you recognize this?" She began to read the first sentence and I could see the stern look on her face breaking slowly. She began to have a change of heart and wanted me to take accountability of it and realize that it was indeed- a fuckup. I was allowed to participate in the show (as the lead guitarist!) and I also am able to let this slide with little to no consequence with the only notable punishment not being able to participate in a school BBQ the following week which wasn't exactly world ending to me, but all is well.
TL;DR My senior prank spread a little too quickly and it backfired horribly on me, but I escaped with a slap on the wrist.
(poster in question https://imgur.com/a/Px1v7JV)
r/tifu • u/Wrong_Advance_9747 • 7d ago
L TIFU by letting an Instagram DM “Sugar Daddy” pay off my Credit Card.
So, I’m passively doom scrolling on Instagram when I receive a DM from a man whom I do not know. I am no stranger to the scammers on Instagram, the ones who message you and say they want to “help you out.” I’ve always ignored them, as they’re obvious scams. But today was different, call it a lapse in judgement or a sudden loss of brain cells.
I receive a message from a man who seemed nice enough. Had a thought-out profile with photos and stories—not your typical fake profile. We start chatting back and forth, and things seem normal. Then this man asks me to be his Sugar Baby. Immediately I tell him that I a) have no money b) have no intention of sending him any money and c) am not interested in being scammed.
Of course he launches into a grandiose speech about how he’d never scam me or ever ask me for money. That he’ll be paying me, so there’s no need for me to be worried. Apprehensively, I agree to keep talking to him. We exchange phone numbers and begin texting back and forth.
A few days go by and we’re chatting regularly. I talk to him about work, his day, he asks me about my day. Things largely seem benign, at this point I’m assuming I’ve met a lonely old man who is looking for some attention. We never talked in any sexual capacity and he seemed to take a genuine interest in my life.
Fast forward to a few days later, he texts me and tells me he’s going to pay off my credit card debt (which we had previously talked about). I ask him how he intends to do so, and he becomes insistent on logging in to my credit card account and adding his bank account information as the form of payment. Initially, I was incredibly reluctant. Rule 1 of basic cyber security would dictate that anyone asking for my personal information SHOULD NOT be given said information. However, there I sat weighing the risks and rewards. A young college student with a sizable amount of debt from living expenses ($2,000+) and a man seemingly willing to pay it all off.
So, I run the risk. I give him the login information and sit anxiously as I ponder all of the ways this man could ruin my life. Then, the pending payment was posted and I receive email confirmation. Immediately, I change my password and thank him profusely.
After a day or two, the payment clears and my card is paid off. The euphoria I felt in that moment is unmatched. We continue talking back and forth for about two weeks, cut to last night at about 1 AM.
I am texting him about his weekend and he asks me to run an errand for him—this is where the feeling in my gut that something was wrong started. Then he starts telling me that he needs gift cards for crypto trading; that I need to get the cards for him because I’m the only one he can trust. That once I purchased the cards with my credit line, he would pay it all back just as he did before.
Naturally, I begin to ask questions. Why do I specifically need to purchase the cards? Why can’t he purchase them for himself? How many does he need? etc. Quickly, his patience runs thin, he begins pressuring me to purchase the cards and telling me I owe him for paying off my card.
Finally, I tell him outright no. That I’m uncomfortable and that he had promised I wouldn’t ever have to pay any fees of give him any money. Then, he got very angry.
I am not well educated on the SD/SB dynamic, but I do know that no one would ask anyone to do something of this nature unless they’re into some shady business. Either he’s scamming or laundering money, regardless I didn’t want to be involved. The man begins to ask for his money back, saying that if I don’t pay him back in 24 hours he’ll make me regret my life. I ask him how he wants to receive payment and he provides an email I do not recognize.
It was then that I realized—I fucked up. I start panicking and shaking. At first, I considered just sending the money and having it all over with. I was so embarrassed about the debt and terrified of my parent finding out.
Ultimately, I knew I didn’t have the money. In fact, I never had the money at all. I wasn’t given the money to pay the card, he added the payment to the account himself. So, I deleted every social media I had and changed every password to everything I own. I blocked his phone number and began thinking of all any information he really had on me and what he could do with it.
Unfortunately, this man was persistent. I began receiving texts from the email, telling me I’m not gonna “be smart” and run away with his money. I was so terrified I began pretending that I was my own parent and that I was confused as to why he was looking to contact my child. For some reason, he bought this. We interact briefly and he tells me that I need to “talk to my child” and get him his money in 24 hours or he’ll be opening an FBI case.
I then reach a realization: I need to actually tell my parent. So, I text them at the early hour of 3 AM telling them I fucked up badly. We call and I tell everything, about the debt and the man and the threats—all of it.
Now, I’ve come clean and my parent is helping me pick up the pieces and figure out the next step. Hard lesson learned, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.
TLDR: I met a man through Instagram DMs who wanted to help pay off my credit card debt. I allowed him to do so and when I refused to purchase gift cards for him on my credit card, he began threatening me. I ended up telling my parent and learning a hard lesson.
Yes, it’s okay to roast me. Financial desperation apparently destroys your critical analysis skills.
r/tifu • u/throwaway_nowgoaway • 5d ago
L TIFU by calling CPS on my parents and now I’m homeless
So this story begins about 10 years ago.
I’ve always been a little different, probably on the spectrum, and was never super masculine. I was also really smart and precocious, way ahead of my peers in school. I was hyper and often asked why instead of blindly listening, but I was a good kid with a good heart. My father is a strict, authoritarian religious type who resented that I had a sensitive side and didn’t blindly follow his authority. He limited the time I could spend pursuing my hobbies because he wanted me to study and practice piano, which was his passion. He yelled at me a lot, and then would yell at me for crying.
At age of 13, I still had a 9pm bedtime, and had to ask to take a shower or get a snack. My dad would get mad when I stood to pee (because it was “dirty”), and often tried to catch me playing with myself so he could tell me it was sinful. He once caught me looking at sexy pics at 13 and yelled at me then forced me to go to confession. After that I was banned indefinitely from the internet. My door was removed. My room was regularly searched. They found my secret iPod that had Eminem and Three Days Grace on it, which was the only thing that kept me going, and they told me it was sinful music.
I wasn’t allowed to have a cell phone or go out with friends because they “didn’t trust me”…I felt so isolated and alone. I started drinking a little and cutting myself, and when my youth pastor saw my scars and told my dad, he forcibly stripped me to see them and yelled at me about how I made my mom cry herself to sleep.
Soon after I came out as gay. It was not well received, and I was told in no uncertain terms that I had to accept it was wrong because it went against “our family values”. I was so depressed. All I wanted was some space to be myself and some love and acceptance, but my parents thought I was some kind of monster. After a half assed suicide attempt, I was put into a mental hospital. Discharged two weeks later. And my parents sent me to three more in a row, saying “nobody understands how troubled our son is”. I kept getting discharged because there were no grounds to keep me, but my dad was paying out of pocket so getting me admitted was easy.
Finally, while I was at the fourth one, he told me that I was getting sent to a Christian boarding school in Texas indefinitely, with no access to the outside world, and that a private jet with security was taking me in 3 days. He claimed it had nothing to do with my sexuality but the admissions lady I was forced to have a phone appointment with was asking what I had done with other boys.
Here’s where I feel like I fucked up. I asked for the number to CPS and called them from the hospital. I was assigned a case worker and a judge ordered that I had to stay in my home state during the investigation. My siblings were pulled out of class asking if my parents hit them and stuff. I didn’t find this out until years later but apparently they were really traumatized and didn’t understand what was going on. My sister has always been daddy’s girl and my brother held his tongue so my dad was nicer to him. I was ultimately placed into foster care. My parents were charged with neglect and ultimately beat the charges, but it was really expensive for them, and then my dad had to pay child support until I was 18. I carry a lot of guilt.
Foster care was fairly uneventful. I aged out at 21 (I’m 27 now) and made it work for a few years, but financial difficulties along with chronic illness have forced me to live out of a vehicle for the last 2 years. I work as much as I am able and would actually make less on disability. But I can’t seem to really generate enough to get out of the situation. Currently stuck renting an expensive vehicle after mine got flooded in December, since I’m severely allergic to mold and everything in my price range gives me an asthma attack.
Previously I would see my family on holidays and call them on birthdays but I have reason to believe they suspect I’m homeless and don’t want to deal with it. My family is really well off. My sister is getting married in two weeks and I haven’t gotten an invite. A few years ago she told me “you abused the family”. Maybe I shouldn’t have shouted back at my dad. Sometimes I feel like if I could have just held my tongue and pretended to agree with their religion I wouldn’t be in this situation. I love my family a lot and I wish my existence didn’t cause so much pain for them.
TL;DR: I came out as gay at 13 and my strict, religious dad tried to have me sent to a Christian boarding school. I called CPS and my parents were charged with neglect and my siblings were traumatized by the interviews with social workers. I was put into foster care and my dad had to pay thousands a month in child support. He says “he’s already sent me to Harvard” and says I’m on my own now. I don’t know what else I could’ve done but now I’m homeless and my family feels betrayed and I feel so sad and guilty.
Edit: I had no idea so many people would see this. I really appreciate all of your comments, even the mean ones, because they are showing me how much I’ve grown in loving and accepting myself. I’ve been in therapy for a long time and for the most part recognize that I made a courageous move, but I still have moments where I blame myself- childhood trauma and gaslighting can leave us with long lasting scars. To those who say that my current situation is my own fault- you are right in the sense that I need to take personal responsibility for my life and that nobody is going to save me. I just hope someone shows y’all a little grace if things go downhill for you.
r/tifu • u/Three_haress • 11d ago
L TIFU for attempting to take my own life after failing to confront my deceased friend's wife at his funeral.
Posting on behalf of another person:
A few days ago, I received world shattering news. My only true friend took his own life after drinking with me. This news hit me like the sky was falling because he was my savior and my bromance.
He may have seemed like an ordinary guy, a background character, but he always provided me with the most honest and helpful advice, solely focused on my well-being. Our friendship started in high school when I was a jerk and a bully, always getting into fights with kids who mocked me. I first met my friend outside the principal's office, and we discussed why we were there. He pointed out that due to the lack of a father figure, I tended to resort to violence to hide my frustration. Someone telling me that kind of words is a reason why I got into so many fights, and although it made me angry at first, I eventually realized he was right. He said those words without any mockery or sympathy. He was different than others. We started talking more after that, and I found myself relying on him more than my own mother. Whenever I reached out to him, he would always provide the most honest advice and point out my flaws without any filters or sympathy. He gradually changed me for the better, and I realized I needed someone as honest as him to help me grow.
Years went by, and I graduated from high school barely and started working in construction while my friend attends college. He was smarter than me and chose a different path, but we always hung out, and I continued to rely on him for various problems. He never turned me down and always provided the best advice.
Things were going well for me. I got promoted, had a stable income, a nice house, and a modest car. Then, a disruptive force entered our lives in the form of my friend's girlfriend, a seemingly nice girl. For my friend, who had no luck in romance, she appeared to be a lucky find. At first, I was happy for him, but as time went by, he dropped out of college and took on different jobs. Later, I discovered that she had convinced him to work and pay for her college tuition after promising him to pay his college after gradauting and starts to earn. I wanted to tell him how absurd that was, but he was happy to support someone he loved. After all, he was the smarter one between the two of us, so I leaved decision to him and tried to help him as much as I could.
After she graduated from college, she looked for a job but gave up after only six months. She spent another year doing nothing but spending money on clothes, bags, and other things while my friend worked his ass off in minefield. He had a schedule of 14 days on and 14 days off, but on his days off, he worked as a car detailer.
My patience was wearing thin, and one day I called my friend to tell him that it wasn't fair for him to pay for her college tuition while she refused to work. Before the conversation could continue, he told me that his girlfriend was six weeks pregnant and they were planning a wedding. I was shocked to hear this, but he was so thrilled to become a father that I swallowed my words and congratulated him.
Four years went by, and my friend had a daughter. He was happier than ever before. Then, that nightmarish day arrived. After work, I received a call from my friend asking me to meet up. I was always happy to see him, so I immediately agreed. We met up, opened a few bottles, and talked about the usual things. But he was different. Looking back now, I realize that the light in his eyes was gone. I didn't notice it at the time, and I might never forgive myself for that. Night fell, and he insisted on going home alone. I made the big mistake of letting him go. That night, I lost my friend.
Apparently, his wife was having an affair, and even their child wasn't his. During an argument, she revealed this to him because he refused her request to buy a new car. I had always suspected something was off because the child didn't resemble him, but how could I say anything when my friend loved his daughter so much? After hearing the truth, my friend lost his will to live and came to see me one last time. I learned this from a message he left before he ended his own life.
I attended his funeral today, but none of his family was present. He had been an abandoned child, and the only people there were his wife's friends and family beside me. They spoke about how my friend had selfishly taken his own life, leaving his wife and child behind, and how he had failed as a husband and father. Everyone comforted his wife. I wanted to burn the ground down with all those people inside, but I restrained myself out of respect for my friend. Then, I reached my breaking point.
I couldn't bear hearing everyone say that my friend was a bad person when it was actually his wife who deserved criticism. I stepped outside to take a breath, and when I returned, I overheard his wife talking with his friends. She described him as useless, always absent, and leaving her to raise their child alone. She even insinuated that he might have had an affair while working at the mine. I couldn't contain my anger any longer. I exploded, grabbed her by the back of her neck, dragged her to the middle of the room, and shouted the facts. I made it clear that he had paid for her college tuition, sacrificing his own dreams, and he had worked tirelessly to provide for their child while she showed no gratitude. In my rage, I said she should be the one in the coffin. I acted like an animal, tears pouring uncontrollably from my eyes, spitting words in anger. I just wanted to strangle her and join my friend in death. But then I saw the child crying in the corner of my eye, the girl my friend loved so much, even though she wasn't his biological daughter. I stormed out and returned home.
When I arrived home i felt absolute hollow in my chest. Nothing mattered anymore. I wanted to join my friend, so I took out my pistol, pointed it at my head, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I checked the safety, the bullet, and tried again. The gun jammed. My friend had given me that gun a few years ago, and we used to go to the shooting range together to relieve stress. Is it him telling me to keep living?
I don't know what to do anymore. If I don't confide in someone, I might attempt to join my friend once again.TL;DR:My only friend of highschool ended his life after knowing that his child isn't his. And I failed to stop him when I could. So I stormed his funeral before trying to end my life too.
Update to post
In my previous post I mentioned that I am posting on behalf of another person. Here is what happened:
Yesterday I met him at a bar. Appearantly after he tried he went to their favorite bar. I happen to be there. Sat next to him, and made effort to have small talk. I needed accompany to distract from my own little problems, but compared to his mine was just little burnout at work. At first he was silent. Little by little he open up. And told his story. I am bad at this kind of conversation, especially comforting someone. So I sat there listened his story, trying my best to cheer him, atleast distract him from thought of ending his life. But as I said I was kinda bad at comforting someone, it wasn't much helpful. Little while he got more drunken, but he wasn't fully blacked out. I couldn't sit idly so I accompanied him little more while before walking him home. I offered him to stay night there. But he refused. I tried to leave him there and hope for best, but that didn't made my mind at ease. So I called help center. And few help worker came and he stayed with them. Eventhough he was with help workers I thought I could do something for him. So I posted this in hope for there is many people would help you if you allow it, and show him that he is loved and his life is worth to fight for. And his friend's death isn't his fault. Now I am at work after meeting him. Here is how today morning went:
After I posted I couldn't sleep, checked all of your comments and chats which I am so grateful. When morning came I rushed to his house, but he wasn't there. I panicked, didn't know what to do. Circled around his house few times, tried to look through windows, didn't help much but everything seemed same, few cigarette buds added on floor, nothing more. My panic continuous. Pulled out my phone in order to post again to ask for advice. Then I remembered I called help workers yesterday. I guess because I was in panic and thought of he going out and did what he couldn't do yesterday was clouding my mind so forgot about help workers. I called them, asked about his whereabout. They said he is with them. Instant relief. I asked location and went there. It was a studio furnitured like someone's home in order to feel warm for those who they are helping I guess. He was looked worse than yesterday, but calmer.
I sat next to him asked how last night went, he didn't said anything beside bearable. I asked help workers about last night. Help worker named Ahmed said they managed to calm him down and talked about his friend, how he guided him to right path, always gave him best of advice, fixed his bad habits. By talking with Ahmed I learned that our new friend here is like goes fishing, few bar nights and striptease clubs. And once in few months donates various thing in nearby single mother support groups as his deceased friend adviced him to. I went back to him and told him I posted his story on reddit, showed my post and all of comments and chats that I recieved. He didn't say nothing while reading. After that he gave me my phone back and said thank you with forced smile. It was so obvious he is forcing himself to smile back to me in order to show appreciation, but hey it was a smile. It means he is little bit better right?
Then help worker came said about his worth of his life, fact that strangers around world caring for him and it would be in vain for his late friends effort if he end his life that his friend so much valued. That was so much help because I didn't know what to say to him.
And he decided to go on with his life, cherishing the life that his angel of a friend protected and guided until the very end, honoring his late friend, and decided cut ties with that evil woman.
I tried add my word of comforting to him, how he is making right choice and asked his contact info, exchanged our socials. Before heading to work I made him promise me go fishing with me next sunday. In order to give him something to do, something to look forward to. I always wanted fishing buddy. I can't be comforting or person who gives advice like his late friend, but I can be that one guy who is annoying, always inviting some activities, someone who is always sends funny memes by chat. I hope it helps, I really hope. Wish me luck.
For those who showed genuine love and care by commented and sent chat to me, I am grateful from bottom of my heart. Without knowing any of us you guys showed most great love and passion to save stranger life.
All of you are heroes. Thank you.
r/tifu • u/KimJontheILLest • 7d ago
L TIFU by using Zipcar
This happened today.
My girlfriend and I live in separate apartments in Brooklyn, but we share a storage unit near her place. I'd gotten a Zipcar subscription for a trip last month, which left me with a monthly fee that I was looking to justify. So I reserved a car for an hour and half to go pick up some of my crap. That's a half hour to get there, a half hour to pack, and a half hour to lug the stuff up to my place. This will become important later.
I apparently took longer than anticipated packing things up, and, as I'm pulling up to my place, I realize that the "meter" on my reservation is nearly up. Don't really love that you have to anticipate your trip down to the minute, but figure they'll just charge me for an extra hour and it'll cost me an another $15. Boy was I wrong.
Parking is scarce, so I double park, throw on the hazards, exit the car, shut the driver-side door, and go to start unloading my stuff. Hmm this is odd... I didn't lock the car, and yet the door doesn't open. I know, I'll use my phone to unlock it (you use the Zipcar app to unlock their rentals). Hmm, that's strange, the doors remain locked. This is when I start to realize that when the reservation for your Zipcar runs out, they don't just hit you with a fee -- they unceremoniously lock you out of the car completely.
So here's this car, double parked on a busy road, blocking some other poor guy's car in, with all my stuff locked inside. And the best part -- my cat's in there.
Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I'd spent the night at my girlfriend's, and brought my cat to stay with us. After shoving all my crap into the car, I'd loaded Kinko in for the trip back to my place. So now she's traped inside the car, locked in her carrier, on the first official day of Summer. WTF.
I call Zipcar. I grit my teeth and calmy explain the situation to an insufferably chipper customer service representative for a company that I'm beginning suspect doesn't have my best interests at heart.
I tell her that her company has locked my things inside of their car.
I tell her that her company has locked my cat inside of their car.
I tell her that it is hot out.
She asks for my ID number.
I tell her that her company has locked my ID inside of their car.
She asks for the last four digits of my credit card.
I tell her that her company has locked my credit card inside of their car.
She says something along the lines of, "well that's a pickle."
It's around this time that I'm approached by an elderly man who announces himself as the owner and operator of the car, which is now obstructed by this imobile rental car/take-all-my-shit device. He asks if I could kindly move the vehicle, because he's experiencing a medical episode and is about to drive himself to the emergency room. WTF.
I explain to the customer service rep that there's now a very real chance that a curteous, elderly bystander may die, because her company has decided to suddenly and without warning transform the car I had rented into a large, immovable hunk of crap. I tell her that this is unacceptable, that if it were her, she would not want to die because an uncaring service representative of an uncaring car rental company chose to value their rental policy over a human life.
She thinks this over. She asks if I can hold. A minute goes by, then two... five... ten. A man is dying. I am freaking out. Something must be done.
The garage where I was supposed to drop off the car is actually very close to my apartment. I run to it. I find an attendant there, and I told him the story -- albeit, with less color -- that you read now.
I ask him to unlock the car.
He tells me he might get fired if he does.
I tell him that their are lives on the line. That the fate of an elderly man and a very good cat rest in his hands.
He stares off into space, and a for a moment I can almost see the conflict inside of him, as the pragmatism of his intellect wrestles with the better angels of his heart. He looks back at me.
He asks where the car is. Soon, my cat is free and an elderly man tragically drives himself to the emergency room.
Oh, and the late fee I expected? It was easily more expensive than the entire trip. Fuck you Zipcar.
TL;DR: I rented a zipcar, but underestimated how long I would need it, so Zipcar locked me out with my cat inside, and blocking an old man from driving himself to the hospital.
r/tifu • u/fuf7a3 • Mar 26 '23
L TIFU by messing around in Singapore and getting caned as punishment
I was born in Singapore, spent most of my childhood abroad, and only moved back at 17. Maybe if I grew up there I would have known more seriously how they treat crime and misbehaviour.
I didn't pay much attention in school and got involved in crime in my late teens and earlier 20s, eventually escalating to robbery. I didn't use a real weapon but pretended I had one, and it worked well for a while in a place where most people are unaccustomed to street crime, until inevitably I eventually got caught.
This was during the early pandemic so they maybe factored that in when giving me a comparably short prison term at only 2 year, but I think the judge made up for it by ordering 12 strokes of the cane, a bit higher than I expected. I knew it would hurt but I had no idea how bad it actually would be.
Prison was no fun, of course, but the worst was that they don't tell you what day your caning will be. So every day I wondered if today would be the day. I started to get very anxious after hearing a couple other prisoners say how serious it is.
They left me in that suspense for the first 14 months of my sentence or so until I began to try to hope, after hundreds of "false alarms" of guards walking by the cell for some other purpose, that maybe they'd forget or something and it would never happen. But nope, finally I was told that today's the day. I had to submit for a medical exam and a doctor certified that I was fit to receive my punishment.
My heart was racing all morning, and finally I was led away to be caned. It's done in private, outside the sight of any other prisoners. It's not supposed to be a public humiliation event like in Sharia, the punishment rather comes from the pain.
I had to remove my clothes and was strapped down to the device to hold me in place for the caning. There was a doctor there and some officers worked to set up some protection over my back so that only my buttocks was exposed. I had to thank the caning officers for carrying out my sentence to teach me a lesson.
I tried to psyche myself up thinking "OK it's 12 strokes, I can do this!" But finally the first stroke came. I remember the noise of it was so loud and then the pain was so shocking and intense, I cried out in shock and agony. I tried then to get away but I couldn't move.
By the 3rd stroke I could barely think straight, I remember feeling like my brain was on fire and the pain was all over my body, not just on the buttocks. I think I was crying but things become blurry after that in my memory. I remember the doctor checking to see if i was still fit for caning at one point and giving the go ahead to continue.
After the 12th stroke they released me but I couldn't move, 2 officers had to help me hobble off. They doused the wounds with antiseptic spray and then took me back to a cell to recover. My brain felt like it was melting from the pain so my sense of time is probably a bit distorted from that day but I remember I collapsed down in the cell and either passed our or went to sleep.
But little did I realize that the real punishment of Caning is more the aftermath, than the caning itself!
When I woke up the pain was still incredibly intense, but not so much that it was distorting my mind, which almost made it worse in a way. My buttocks had swollen immensely and any pressure on it felt like fire that immediately crippled me, almost worse than a kick to the groin.
My first time I felt like I had to use the toilet, I was filled with dread because of the pain...I managed to do it squatting instead of sitting, but still, just the motion of going "#2" agitated all the wounds and the pain was so sudden and intense that I threw up. I tried to avoid eating for a week because I didn't want to have to use the toilet.
After a couple days the officers told me I couldn't lay naked in my cell anymore and had to wear clothes. This was scary because they would agitate the wounds. I spent most of the day trying to lay face-down and totally still because even small movements would hurt so bad as the clothes rustled against it.
This continued for about a month before things started to heal, and even then, these actions remained very painful, just not cripplingly painful. I didn't sit or lay on my back for many months. By the time I got out of prison I had mostly recovered but even to this day, there are severe scars and the area can be a bit sensitive.
It was way worse than I expected the experience to be. I know it's my fault but I do wish my parents had warned me more about the seriousness of justice here when we moved back - though I know i wouldn't have listened as a stupid teen. Thankfully they were supportive when I got out and I'm getting back on my feet - literally and metaphorically.
TL:DR Got caught for robbery in Singapore, found out judicial caning is way worse than I ever imagined
r/tifu • u/woodworkerdaughter • 18d ago
L TIFU by trashing a treasured family memento because it made me feel excluded, and then asking reddit for their opinion about it
This is another story that happened a while ago (actually almost a year) but it took a bit of time for the full scope of the TIFU to emerge.
The background is my dad died when I (16F) was very young, so I have no memories of him. My mom and my brother, who is 7 years older than me, of course have many fond memories of my dad. I often felt left out when the two of them would reminisce about my father, the way they would phrase it would be something like "Dad was always doodling in his sketchbook, do you remember his sketchbook?" I would feel left out and and like I was disappointing them by not being able to remember.
Anyway sometime when I was 13 I basically told them to shut up about my dad all the time and there were much less conversations about my dad. None of us really understood then why the way we were communicating was so broken and hurtful for everyone.
This was fine for a bit over a year until my dad came up again and this is the day I FU. So my dad was a really good artist and amateur woodworker. Around the house my mom hung up sketches he made of us as kids. Also hanging up is his masterpiece, this amazing wood carving he made that's a portrait of my brother as a baby. It really looks incredible, very solidly built (this is important later) and looks like it's from a gallery. My mom had this hanging up right at the front, it was the first thing people see and comment on when they came in, and my mom would start talking about how my dad was really into art and woodworking and would made sketches of his kids when he was staying up at night to put us to sleep. It would happen all the time even with my friends, and this would annoy me and made me feel excluded again.
So the day I FU, my brother was home from college and he said "hey you know that woodcarving of me that dad made?" and my mom said "you remember how your dad was always making sketches of you?" Anyway at that point it felt like they were rubbing it in so I snapped, screamed at them to stop making me feel like shit for forgetting our perfect father, and went to my room. I was really emotional and later when they left the house I grabbed the woodcarving of my brother off the wall and... broke it in half on the ground.
Or at least I tried. Luckily it was carved out of a really solid piece of wood or this would be an even bigger FU. So failing to destroy it, I settled for throwing it in a neighbors trash can. Then I went to my aunt's house whose always been someone I trust and cried to her about the whole thing. She was sympathetic but she made me get the carving back out of the trash and explained to me that my reaction was very wrong, and texted my mom to let her know I was OK.
Then I made a post on AITA about the whole situation and people were incredibly savage. I mean not undeservedly so in the comments maybe, but I actually got like a borderline death threat in the PMs. Luckily my aunt was there to go through the responses with me, she would generally explain why people were saying that stuff to me and rephrase it in a gentler way so I could see where people were coming from. It's a good thing she was there because otherwise I don't think I would have processed what people were saying.
And then the scope of the FU became even clearer later. It turns out that my brother was trying to tell me he had a surprise for me. He knew my dad was always planning on making a second woodcarving of me, that's what the sketches were for, and he knew I felt left out not having one of my own. So he's taken it up as a hobby himself and he used the shop at his school to make a carved portrait of me, based on one of dad's sketches. They were trying to give me the gift when I flipped out and they felt bad about making me upset so they didn't know how to explain it after.
In the end my aunt helped us clear everything up and we figured out a few things:
- My mom and my brother started talking me about dad again, but learned not to "quiz" me about him as if they expect me to remember. I sometimes feel sad hearing about someone I'll never know directly, but in a good way because it's nice to hear about someone who loved us so much. I can get to know him through my family's memories, and I know that they're trying to include me and not exclude me when they talk about him.
- My mom wanted to put the woodcarving of me my brother made next to the one of my brother that dad made but my brother said they don't really match. My brother says he's still a beginner at woodcarving so his style isn't the same as dad's. I think mine looks great too, it's just like a different style - more etching like a coin than deep 3D carves like a statue, I guess. My brother doesn't want me to feel like it stands out as different next to the one dad made though. So my mom alternates which one she hangs up at the front, usually it's mine because she says she's balancing out for lost time. Also she makes sure mine is the one in front if it's my friends coming over. When it's not there, I keep it in my room. My brother says he's going to keep learning woodcarving so he'll give me another version in the future that's more in dad's style but I really like the one I have now. It looks like something my brother made, based on art my dad made, so it's like I have a gift from both of them.
- As for the memento I almost destroyed, sadly there was some damage. We were able to clean it up and fortunately the damage isn't so much on the actual portrait portion of the wood, just a lot of dents and chips to the edges and corners and stuff. I feel really bad about that but mom still likes to display and put it up and said that this way it looks more vintage and like I've made a contribution to this woodcarving too.
I guess the TLDR is I permanently damaged my family memento, got a bunch of hate mail on reddit when I ran there for support, and spoiled my brother's very thoughtful attempt to give me a gift. Fortunately my aunt was there to keep all of us from doing anything permanently stupid.
r/tifu • u/leahish • May 01 '23
L TIFU by kissing my dead Grandma on the forehead.
TIFU by kissing my dead grandma on the forehead.
I (41F) was fortunate enough to spend the majority of the last two weeks with my dying grandma (89F) who has been in the late stages of dementia. My mom (71F) had brought her to the family house as she was growing concerned about Grandma's care at the nursing home. Mom is a bit of a holistic sort of lady and was hoping a diet of good food and a lot of beet/carrot/green juice might perk Grandma up. (I hate that Grandma's last foods were carrot/beet/spinach juice - I'd probably refuse to drink that too)
My sister (43, former paramedic) had kept a very close eye on her and spent the week helping feed, change, and keep Grandma as comfortable as possible. Her body was very frail and only around 90 pounds at the end. She especially became concerned last Saturday as Grandma was having increased difficulty swallowing and had been refusing food/juice/water. (Aspiration is a very real concern as is pneumonia from asperating) After an ER visit and hospital stay, lab work, CT scans, and swallowing tests the doctors recommended hospice care.
Our family was lucky enough to have my grandma comfortably set up in the great room of my mom's home. We had five generations of women with her at the end. Her daughter (my mom), 4 granddaughters (myself included), 3 great-granddaughters, and 1 great-great-great granddaughter. How cool is that?!
What folks don't tell you is a death watch is pretty fucked-up. You sit there counting respirations, checking blood oxygen levels and just waiting. My grandma's last words were on Thursday when she was cursing out my step-sibling that had gotten up in her face shouting "I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!" - but that is another story for another time. (she left shortly after) By Friday afternoon Grandma had been completely unconscious for over 24 hours. Her respirations were slowing, blood oxygen levels were below 80. My grandpa (83M) had come to say his last goodbyes and shit was getting real.
By the early evening, she was breathing was quick and shallow as her oxygen levels continued to fall and her pulse increased as her body tried to compensate. We held her hand and waited for the inevitable.
It hits nighttime and we are all sharing our favorite stories about Grandma. (My oldest sister had the best stories! It was so cool to hear more about my Grandma's early life) She was a feisty piece of work: a Roller-Derby-playing, pot-smoking/growing, would-hide-a-body-for-you, Puerto Rican beauty. Heck, I remember quite vividly how she used a machete as a tool of all trades in the garden and told me she used it for therapy when she was whacking out roots... she would imagine people who had pissed her off or hurt the people she loved and just go all in.
Anyway, at 9:17 pm she takes her last breath. It was pretty dramatic, to be honest. Not some soft last exhale - but this drawn-in craziness with a gurgling exhale. It was something you'd see in a movie. Had the rest not happened I would call it borderline traumatic. Of course, people are crying and understandably upset. My RN sister checks all of her vitals and confirms - she's gone.
At this point, I wasn't crying. It was kind of strange to just watch this happen. It didn't feel real. After a minute my RN sister is calling hospice to let them know she has passed and I decided that I should go ahead and say my final goodbyes to Grandma. I lean down and gently stroke her hair, then tenderly give her a sweet last kiss on her forehead and whisper "I love you, Grandma." This was it. She was gone. No more suffering. She was at peace.
Suddenly she breathes in with a breath you hear from folks who just had undergone CPR after drowning. Or maybe the sound of someone who had inhaled too much pot, had been coughing, and then was catching their breath? I don't know... but it was loud, it was quick, and it scared the shit out of me.
Y'all need to know that I'm a huge chicken, okay? I don't watch "scary" movies or even movies that are sort of "intense" and I only will watch those during daylight hours. I detest jump-scares. At this point, I'm convinced that Grandma was trying to take me with her by causing me to have a fright-induced massive heart attack. She tried to scare me to death. The good news is this gets the rest of the family laughing... you know the stress-induced slight hysteria laughter - it was that. I start sobbing, a full-on ugly cry. It was just a lot of emotion and that was the tipping point for me.
An hour passes and Grandma is still breathing, still low oxygen but hanging in there. At the 10 o'clock hour as we all wait around her - she takes her last breath and softly exhales. It's much more peaceful this time around. Cue in the waterworks of everyone (except for me). I've decided that I don't buy it. This time we have the nurse sister double and triple-check her vitals. She's gone. Nurse-sister calls hospice again. In my mind, I'm still thinking "Fool me once, shame on me... fool me twice..." I *almost* said it, but kept it to myself. Then, after a few minutes, she starts to breathe and regains a heartbeat. She had the opportunity to fuck with the rest of them - and did! I'm convinced at this point that she is just a spirit in the room laughing at all of us.
Cue in 11 pm of the death watch. I'm exhausted. Everyone is. We are emotionally drained and just spent. I reluctantly go to sleep (I'd been up since 4:30 am) only to be awakened by my paramedic sister telling me that Grandma had passed at 11:30 pm just as the rest of the group was about to leave for the night. It was 11:47 pm when she woke me up. She tells me she waited a good 15 minutes - just in case! I know it is not supposed to be funny - but it is kind of hilarious at the same time. I don't know. So this third go-round and all the tears are spent and we just sort of stand there quietly mourning while also wondering WTF just happened over the last 3 hours.
TL;DR: My grandma died, I kissed her on the forehead and she jump-scared me as she came back to life only to "die" again an hour later and come back to life (again) then die for real an hour after that.
r/tifu • u/Head-Assignment-5732 • Apr 10 '23
L TIFU by leaving the house after I caught my wife flirting with a coworker on the phone
This was two months ago but adding now to see what reddit has to say as I’m still struggling. I have been married for just over two years. For the last 6 months or so my wife has been drinking heavily. Like taking shot after shot of vodka as soon as she gets home from work until she is wasted. She has done this every night for months. She can drink more than me but she weighs ~110lbs and I’m at 205lb. It’s not uncommon for her to drink half to two thirds of a bottle of whiskey or vodka in one evening. On her days off she will start drinking by 10am and be passed out by 3-4pm. I have asked her to stop, and she would say she’s trying but her pattern had not changed.
For about a week prior to the night of this post she had been saying that I am not attracted to her and how come I never wanted to have sex anymore. I told her because she’s wasted all the time and I’m not attracted to someone who is constantly drunk. We had the same argument every night for at least a week. Partially I think because she couldn’t remember us arguing about it the previous night and she would get wasted again and the argument would repeat itself.
One night two months ago I got home from work around 7pm and when I walked in the house she was on the phone. I could already tell she was hammered (swaying, slurring words etc) When I came in she looked startled and said “I have to go” and hung up the phone. I asked who she was talking to and she said a guy from her work. I asked why she looked so guilty, she said she was just talking to him but got felt guilty when I got home so she hung up. I got mad and started arguing with her. She said why can’t she think another guy is attractive and there’s nothing wrong with that. I said the issue was that she’s calling him and flirting with him and she’s my wife. I was angry and told her that I was over it and I was leaving. I packed a bag real quick and left. While leaving she kept saying I don’t want you to go and grabbed my wrist to try to keep me from leaving. I pulled away and left the house.
I was driving around just trying to calm down thinking about what to do/where to go. I really didn’t want to go home and deal with her being wasted and arguing all night. I eventually booked a hotel not too far away and figured I’d crash the night there and hopefully me leaving would make her change her behavior.
Shortly after checking into my hotel, my front door camera went off showing her leaving the house. At that point I just shut down. My mind was racing on what to do and I also thought fuck you then I guess it’s over. I sat in my hotel room for about 20 min stressing out. When I realized I couldn’t just sit there, I went back home. Her car was still there so I knew she must’ve gotten picked up. I was just so mad that I sat with my dog and thought about how I was going to have to get divorced and sell my house and move and all the things. She still wasn’t home about 3 hrs later so I finally tried calling several times with no answer. I don’t know why I didn’t call sooner I was just angry and was thinking she made up her mind and fuck her basically.
The next morning, she came home around 9:30am, I didn’t sleep at all because I was freaking out all night. She said do you want to talk about it? I asked where she was, and she said she was at the coworker’s house. I blew up and told her she’s a terrible a person and an alcoholic and a piece of shit. She said she had called him because she couldn’t get our air fryer to work and wanted a ride to McDonalds to get some food. She said she didn’t remember getting to his house and she took longer to get home because she was hoping it was all a bad dream. At first, she told me she only kissed him and didn’t want to get divorced and that she would look into counseling. After I agreed to try if she quit drinking and went to counseling, she told me that she did sleep with him and didn’t want to lie to me. I told her I want a divorce and she just kept saying that she didn’t, and she wanted to work things out.
It's been two months now and we’ve been sleeping in different rooms. She hasn’t been getting wasted but still drinks wine occasionally but hasn’t touched hard liquor since the event. The coworker quit his job so they no longer work together. We’ve been going to couples counseling, but I still can’t get over her going out and fucking someone when she’s supposed to be my wife. I know she was wasted but how much of an excuse can that really be, and I don’t know if I can continue with our marriage after this.
TLDR: I caught my alcoholic wife flirting with someone on the phone, I said fuck you and left the house. She then left the house and cheated on me. Now she wants to work on our marriage.
EDIT: I was trying to keep it short and 5 paragraphs of my issues was more than I ever wanted online hence this throwaway account. Thank you for all of your advice and kind words.
I should've clarified, she did not start drinking 6 months ago. It's been going on for several years, it just wasnt every day. In the last 6 months it was every single day. I would regularly bring up that she was drinking too much and she always told me she was trying and working on it. She'd stop for a week or so then go back at it. When she would get really bad she'd cry and say that I dont care about her anymore. Every January for the last 3 years I did the no alcohol for the month and this was the first year she didnt join me. That made January fucking miserable.
Therapy has been helpful but thank you to those of you that recommended my own therapist as well. I had one solo session with our therapist but finding someone separate sounds like a good idea.
I'm sure reading this, it seems obvious that I should just leave (or should've already). I have been trying to make it work because I do love her when shes sober. We did virtually everything together outside work. Her drinking has slowly isolated us over the years. I dont invite friends over anymore because she gets wasted every time and I'm left trying to act like it's normal. Our friends and I all like to drink but shes the only one that gets wasted, which we've spoken about many times. Ive literally carried her out of every wedding we've been to excluding our own for at least the last 6 years.
I have put in some effort to make it work because I guess I have just wanted my life back (house,garden,dog, sober wife) but as my therapist and some of you have said that life is over now since she cheated and it's rebuilding a whole new life. That's why I'm still struggling after 2 months. I dont think I'll get over it. My therapist said I probably have ADHD based on how I overthink everything and thats why I tend to lose focus easily in conversations. That was one thing that made my wife think I didnt care about her anymore btw.
I posted it on TIFU because I do continually think that if I hadn't left or had called sooner things may have been different. However I do realize it was more than likely inevitable whether that night or the next.
She has cut way back on drinking since everything happened. I just dont know if its sustainable or forgivable.
r/tifu • u/babyboyblue • Apr 14 '23
L TIFU by photoshopping my bosses face onto his entire family and sending it to my work chat.
TIFU Obligatory this happened last year. I luckily have a new job.
It was Father’s Day 2022. My boss on my team of 10 sends a photo of his entire family including his 3 baby grand children, 3 kids, their spouses(his daughter doesn’t have a spouse) and his wife.
My boss is not a good looking man. The face only a blind mother could love. Unfortunately for his family, especially the female offspring, his genes are strong as fuck. I also hate my boss with a passion. He had also just brought his lazy son who is about my age onto the team and I was taken out of all client interaction because his son needed “exposure”. His son regularly fapped in the work bathroom with people sitting next to him but that’s another story.
I luckily had one really good work friend on my team who also hated my boss but he was higher up and didn’t really need to deal with him as much. As this work group chat is going off we are just ripping into his family. We were both pretty tipsy because fuck it; it’s Father’s Day and we’re not fathers. This entire time we were joking like how crazy would it be if we accidentally sent to the wrong chat. I was laughing(or loling because it was text) at him like he would be an idiot to send to the wrong chat.
I had a Eureka moment. I’m pretty good with face in the hole and use it often for funny memes. I face in the holed his ugly face onto his entire family except for his daughter. This included his 2 sons, 3 grand daughters, his wife and two daughter in laws. I made this thing a masterpiece. I was using tone, contrast, switched angles to match everything. It was the Mona Lisa of fucked up face in hole. The best part is you couldn’t even tell that his daughters wasn’t face in the holed and that his granddaughters were photoshopped.
In pure excitement of this masterpiece I created I saved it ans immediately sent it to my buddy waiting for my glorious applause. As I sent it all of a sudden a text notification at the top comes up from my work buddy that’s says “WTF?????”. It took me a second to register that I just sent that to my entire team. I hadn’t said anything in the group chat at all up to this point. My first message was this picture that had multiple layers of fucked up. I litterally jump up from the couch and throw my phone against the couch saying “oh no oh no oh no” and start profusely sweating and pacing frantically in the living room. My fight or flight response kicked in and I wanted to run like Forrest Gump. My wife freaks out thinking I just found out I had cancer or something and I told her what happened. She had no idea the fucked up shit we were sending, she had just heard me giggling like a little school girl across from the couch. She immediately tries to calm me down saying it’s probably not that bad. I show her the picture and her jaw drops. “Ok we need to think of something” I call my buddy who is laughing hysterically at my stupidity and I’m like you need to bombard the chat so hopefully he doesn’t see it. He starts sending messages and asks people how their Father’s Day was to get more interaction as I am just panicking/sweating/contemplating quitting before I could get fired z My wife ends up having a genius plan by telling me to text “happy Father’s Day “boss’s name” to you and your mini mes” which I thought was genius but i sent it like 15 minutes and 20 messages later so it was random at that point and maybe put more attention to it.
My buddy tells me ur other coworker texted him on the side “wtf did babyboyblue just send? Is he trying to get fired? Also what wasn’t “bosses daughters name” the only one not photo shopped”
It was like 9 PM at this point and my wife is trying to console me but i could tell she was worried too. Like “maybe your boss didn’t see that photo where you photoshopped his ugly face onto his entire family including his baby granddaughters”
I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I just rolled around sweating thinking about wtf I am going to say to him and explain myself. Do I come up to him first and apologize? Do I wait and pray that he didn’t see it? I went through every possible scenario in my head and they all sucked. Ops i accidentally slipped and photoshopped your face on your entire family and then sent to group chat.
I get ready for work early because I legit couldn’t sleep. It felt like a prisoner on death row making his last walk but I didn’t get a tastey last meal because I felt like I was going to vomit. I’m the first one in the office and I’m pretending to work and trying to play it cool. Our assistants come in and I’m thinking alright be sharp here and act like nothing happened. THEY SAY NOTHING about it like they didn’t see me insult our bossses entire family via a masterpiece face in the hole. I’m starting to calm down thinking no one saw it. Then my work buddy comes in and he’s just dying laughing which brings my anxiety up. He can see me from my his office so every time a new coworker comes in his eyes get wide like oh shit here it comes as he’s chuckling. No one says anything. Then the moment of truth comes and my fat ugly boss walks in with his fat ugly son. I start sweating again (wtf btw such a shitty response to fear). He just walks by me and says nothing, no hi, no good morning, just nothing. Ok, kinda weird for him but not bad. I’m watching his every move like I’m some psycho analyst trying to read a serial killers body language. Nothing happens and I’m convincing myself he didn’t see. Maybe my face in the hole was so good that he thought I just sent the original photo back.
12:00 PM comes by and he comes up to me and says “baby boy blue want to grab some lunch” “I’m good not hungry I had a big breakfast” “well walk with me across the street to get food” “uhhhh alright I guess”. The time had come. I didn’t get away easily. As we were walking out my buddy army saluted me like it was the lasast time he would see me.
He starts with small talk and I can barely answer because I’m just thinking how I would come up with an excuse. I have to wait for this fucker to get his stupid salad bar as I’m starting to sweat again. I looked like a walking food violation because the sweat was coming through my work shirt. We walk back and he’s asking about my career aspirations and all these thing. This guy did not mention it the entire time! He was just 100% mind fucking me and it worked. It was honestly worse then if he had just called it out. I got back to work and I was safe. No one else on the team mentioned it again. My buddy would always randomly send me the photo while working just to fuck with me. I ended up quitting about 6 months later for a much better job. Thinking about sending it to that chat again next Father’s Day as a fuck you.
TL;DR I was drunk and me and my coworker were sending fucked up things about a photo my boss sent of his ugly face and his family in work group chat. I photoshopped his head on his entire family including his baby granddaughters. I only left his daughter not photoshopped because she unfortunately looks the most like him. I then accidentally sent to the work group chat. Thought I was getting fired. My boss just mind fucks me and never mentions it.
r/tifu • u/Mindless-Drawing • 26d ago
L TIFU by giving my 18month old my car keys instead of the house keys while loading the car
Disclaimer: this actually happened late last night and it's exactly as it sounds.
I feel awful about it honestly and I'm now realising just how much I need a day off. It's been a long few weeks and I've been working flat out during the week and running my business over the weekends with only one day a week where I've been taking my little boy to see our friend who has a child the same age. So I've not had a single day in about a month where I haven't had to leave the house for work of some description as I've been painting a mural at our friends house for them. It started about 6:15 last night and we were saying out goodbyes as the littles where getting a bit grizzly. My littlun would not let me strap him into his car seat so to keep him occupied I gave him some keys. Normally it's my house keys, keeps him happy and means I can get him in. This time, stupidly, I got the first set that I could out of my pocket and gave it to him.
In the time it took me to close the passenger door and walk around to the boot, I saw the lights flash. Tried the door "bollocks". My friend was freaking out a bit, I phoned my partner to see if he had the spare, no dice. My littlun has, in this time, got his chest straps off, taken off his shoes and socks and undone all the poppers on his dungarees, but is otherwise happy.
Check my insurance policy- low and behold I have RAC. Ring them, they have a target time of 8:30 to 10:40pm Calling my partner, he still can't find them, by this point its 7pm. I get a text from RAC, they'll be there in 20 minutes, Great!
Very important: my car is an Astra Twin Top, which means that the doors don't have a frame at the top and closes into the seal under the lip of the roof. It's also means the doors are longer. My son pressed the lock button twice when he locked it, so the car is deadlocked. All this is to say that its incredibly difficult to break in to the car. We started off trying the door handles with no joy. Littlun fell asleep and had dropped the key into his car seat, so RAC tries using his tools to press the buttons on the fob, which just kept falling further into the car seat, it was time to give up on that when my son moved his arm and covered the keys.
We were stood there for over 2 hours while RAC tried to open the door handles, press the unlock button in the center consol, and lastly open the bonnet. Get into the bonnet, use his tools to press the window buttons in the door while he tries to get the electrics to open the window.
By now it's 8.50pm. My partner has contacted our friend who actually had the spare key the whole time! He goes out to our friend, and gets to us around 9.30pm.
We finally get into the car, partner loads the car seat into his to take littlun home, who is pretty cold and miserable at this point. The car alarm going off every 20 minutes hadn't helped but at least he had napped while he was in there. He was just happy to be out, smiling and waving at RAC as they went. RAC stuck around a few more minutes with me to make sure my car reset properly and would actually start. Took a few tries but eventually we got it working. And this ENTIRE TIME I had been standing at the car window, holding my phone up to play nursery rhymes and programme to keep littlun happy, in a THUNDERSTORM! 3 and a half hours, in the pouring rain...
Real MVP is my friend who managed to get her littlun to bed and was in and out of her house with me most of the night bringing us drinks to keep warm while looking out for her sleeping child, and also helping RAC with the tools while I held up the phone for nursery rhymes and the torch for them.
Lessons were learned - biggest one being NEVER give the car keys to the child. Second being, I need a day off, if I hadn't been going for 3 weeks straight like that I'm not sure it's a mistake I would have made. I'm now taking the day off work to recover from what was a very long, difficult night. My anxiety is through the roof and I nearly passed out standing at the car last night and this morning.
TL;DR Gave my 18month old my car keys instead of the house keys, he proceeded to lock himself in the car while we tried for several hours to get him out.
L TIFU by flying to visit an online friend.
This happened last week, but I just now decided to write about it. I (28M) had this friend Nate (25M) for around 2 years now, maybe 3. We met on CSGO, a first-person shooter on Steam, and instantly clicked. We were both laid-back people who enjoyed gaming in our spare time. We've had many deep discussions on life and politics and agreed on many things. We have talked over Webcam,so I knew what he looked like. Well, a couple of months ago I got an offer from Caesars (A major casino) for a free hotel room for 3 nights and airfare to SoCal, about 20ish minutes away from where Nate lives. I was ecstatic and so was Nate, I booked everything and we talked about what we would do once I flew down. We both enjoy weed and I was bringing my laptop so we could smoke and LAN party it up, then he was supposed to take me into town to show me around, all good things. He had made it known that while he wouldn't be able to pick me up from the airport that he would be able to take me back. Not a problem I can uber there. The airport was an hour plus away so this is a $100+ uber, so I budgeted for that. Now comes the flight, I get there and everything is going smoothly, grab an uber and away I go heading towards the hotel. Now I initially thought Nate was going to meet me there that night and stay in the hotel with me until I left (I booked a king suite so he had a couch to sleep on) but he texts me that he will come by tomorrow morning. No big deal I get to the casino and wander around checking out what's nearby, the room is awesome and I'm really excited. This is the Harrahs in SoCal about an hour from San Diego, and for those who don't know this is built on an Indian reservation surrounded by large hills, there is nothing else nearby for 15 minutes around, meaning once I was dropped off I was trapped there. Well I go to sleep that night excited to meet my buddy the next day. Again, I was expecting him to meet up with me that morning like he said, but after waiting around for 2 hours I eventually texted him at 10 just letting him know I'm ready when he is. He doesn't text back until 1pm saying he slept in, and was on his way, and then doesn't show up until 3pm. I was kind of peeved but whatever we have the whole rest of the day. He parks and I help carry his desktop pc to the room. He has the sniffles and says he has a cold and was tested for covid and tested negative, so not to worry, we buy him some cough drops and then gamble a bit. At this point I really wanted a joint, just a preroll, and I ask him if we can drive us to the nearest dispensary (about 15mins away) and he says he will have it delivered to us no problem. He calls like 6 different places and they all say no, then he just drops it. After waiting awhile I bring it up again, and he says it's silly to drive all the way there when we are going into town tomorrow, I say that's fine I can get some tomorrow then no worries. This day goes pretty well as we gamble and game for the day, I clock out around 11pm since I was up early and he stays up for a bit. The next I'm up at 10 and waiting for him to wake up, which he does a bit after 1. I was expecting us to go into town that day and was really excited. He gets up and gets ready and wants to go play blackjack for a bit, which is cool with me. After we play for an hour, he tells me he really isn't feeling good and wants to go home to lay down. I'm pretty devastated by this since it was the last day for us to hangout (I had to fly home the next afternoon) but I just say ok and help him carry his things back to his truck. I'm also pretty pissed since I was never getting that preroll now. He goes home, and I stay at the casino and figure out shit to do on my own. That night he texts me that he feels like crap and won't be able to give me a ride to the airport. Now this really freaks me out because again this place is in the middle of nowhere and finding an uber isn't an easy thing to do. I tell him this and he insures me he will get me to the airport even if his dad has to drive me. I say ok and go to sleep. The next morning he tells me he found a random lady on Facebook who would drive me for $100 and to give her a call, I'm confused because he keeps changing his mind, and also not interested in driving with some random person who can rob me and dump me anywhere without knowing their name. So I just tell him I'll figure it out. I call 5 cab companies and no one is willing to drive out here, I ask the front desk and they tell me I'll probably have to take the bus into the next town before I can get a ride. I'm pissed and frantically trying to get an uber or lyft, and luckily one finally takes my ride after what seems like the 20th attempt. Keep in mind this is at like 10am, I didn't want to wait too long and then potentially miss my flight home. The uber is another 100 bucks I didn't budget for, and I'm pretty pissed. I had to sit at the airport from 11am until 6pm for my flight. I couldn't believe this person I cared so much for would screw me like this over a cold. I mean, if someone spent hundreds of dollars to visit me, I'd tough it out and make sure they had a great time or at the very least pay for them to get home. After getting home I tell Nate how upset I was and was told I'm playing the victim card. That was the last straw for me, and I blocked him on everything. It sucks when you find out you care for someone a whole lot more than they care about you.
TL;DR - Flew to visit a friend spending hundreds of dollars, only for them to leave after claiming they had a cold and refusing to drive me back to the airport. Feelsbad.
r/tifu • u/PuzzleheadedRound695 • Apr 11 '23
L TIFU by disrespecting my son's dead mother.
I (m24) have a son (m4), he's adopted. His adoption has a whole backstory to it but to make an extremely long and complicated story short, his mom and I were friends, she ended up getting raped by some guy when she was 19. She got pregnant and decided to keep the baby, gave birth to him and unfourtnately committed suicide a month later. She wanted me to take him in if something ever happened and so I decided to follow her wishes. Her parents wanted nothing to do with him for obvious reasons and I'm single, I've raised him pretty much by myself for the past 5 years (and before you all start crying fake post in the comments, he will be 5 next month).
Now let me tell you, being a single parent is HARD. I'm constantly on my feet having to chase this little human around. I haven't taken a nap in 5 years, I get little to no time to myself. There's been times I literally couldn't use the bathroom because kids are needy and constantly getting into things. Plus it doesn't help that I have the most energetic but defiant child of all time. He doesn't listen and is always arguing about something. He's just like his mother. Of course I still love him and understand that this comes with the territory but it doesn't make it any easier.
Fast forward to yesterday. We were at some local theme park and all was well up until about halfway through. My son has a bad habit of complaining, especially when he's tired. This dude was whining about absolutely fucking everything, from being mad that I wouldn't buy him another $8 popcorn to deciding he didn't want to go on a ride when we were in the middle of the long ass line to not wanting to go to chic-fil-a, he had a problem with everything. I was getting annoyed and kept telling him stuff like "you need to fix your face and cheer up" and "I feel like you want me to get angry with you and I'm not too sure why".
The last straw was when I asked him to throw a cup in the garbage on the way out and he instead had a fit and threw it across the parking lot. I told him he was gonna stay with our family friend, who we'll call Jay, while I went to Florida in September if he kept it up. He got all pissed off again, ranting about how he "hates" Jay and that he never wants to see Jay ever again. Now keep in mind, he fucking loves Jay. He was just tired and saying this to spite me. We get in the car and I tell him how he's not watching any movies on the way home because he was bad and didn't stop complaining. He told me how he would be good now but I just said "It's a little too late for that, all you had to do was listen and not complain and you would be watching a movie but now you gotta listen to my music 🤷🏾♂️". He pouted for a bit but fell alseep and was fine.
I told my friend about the whole thing on the way home, to which he explained to me that I shouldn't reprimand my son like that because his mom wouldn't have liked it and that I should "remember who he comes from". I told him "Bro in all honesty I don't give a shit about what his mom would've liked, he's my son and I can decide how to handle him. She wanted me to have him, this is what comes of that. She's not here to judge me so I'm gonna parent him however I want". Friend told me I needed to chill out and that I shouldn't take it out on a dead girl all because I can't "control my kids". It turned into a mini argument but it was fine.
Looking back I do feel bad about it. His mom was a good person and I really could've worded myself a lot better. I was just stressed from having to rush home and get him ready for sports as well as having to try and get him in a better mood for sports. Everything is back to normal today, I'm all good if not a little tired. But still, I think I could be a little more... sensitive? I guess when it comes to his mother.
TL;DR - My kid is adopted and his mother is dead. He was bad as shit at the theme park and I tried to be a good parent and discipline him. My friend told me I needed to be a nicer parent because his mom wouldn't have agreed with how I handle him. I told him that I didn't give a shit what she would've wanted and now I'm realizing I could've been a little nicer about that.
r/tifu • u/AppointmentTrick1535 • Feb 25 '23
L TIFU by kissing a girl in a psych ward
Alt account BTW. Also, sorry for any confusion I make typing this. I try to keep my stories short, so I will leave out a bit of details.
So, this happened a while ago actually, I (17M) remember the exact day I was admitted to the psych ward. It was the day after New Years (great start to the year).
I won't mention how I ended up in a mental hospital, but I will hint that it involves drug use.
Also, just so you guys know, a psych ward isn't what it's like in the movies. It's actually rather...chill and I personally found it a good place to express myself and be a better person than I was beforehand. ~~
I recommend it highly if you feel like you ever feel like you're on the "edge"~~
Anyway, after about two days of being there and surprisingly making a lot of mentally ill friends, I meet a girl (16), let's call her Ashley. Going into the psychward, Ashley was the first person to catch my eye. She was extremely attractive and very friendly after getting to talk to her.
We would talk everyday constantly, and I ended up asking for her Instagram on the both of our last days at the psychward. While waiting for our rides, I remember Ashley asking straight up "Do you want to kiss".
At first I thought she was trolling so I laughed and told her to stop playing. She told me she was serious, while adding a smirk to her face.
I was still suspicious, so I told her to lean in first. She did, so I decided to as well, and to my surprise, we ended up kissing. The first kiss was short and more of a puck. Then we kissed again, and then again, and then it turned into a makeout session. Keep in mind, we are still in the psychward, just in a area where there are no cameras or nurses watching.
Then after a few minutes of kissing, I heard my name be yelled by one of the nurses saying my mom was here. So I awkwardly wave to her goodbye and excitedly skip to my freedom while saying goodbye to my other mentally ill friends.
So, I'm out the psychward. I feel good, and everything is good, but I ended up forgetting Ashley's Instagram so I didn't bother to try and look for her.
So, a week pasts, and I'm in school when suddenly I get called to the office. My mom is here to pick me up. I ask her why she came unannounced, and she told me a detective had called her and left her a voice mail telling me to come to the [town name] police department to talk about something that happened at the mental hospital I was issued at.
I get scared obviously, because I have no clue as to why needed to see a DETECTIVE.
We make it to the police station and I go in and was greeted to the Detective. He makes me walk with him alone to a room where we both sat down. I felt like I was in a damn movie.
He has a few files on the table along with a recorder thing. It was small.
He says that I can leave at anytime and not answer any questions at will, and then starts by asking simple questions like "Why I was in [town name] Hospital" and "What people did I see?"
So I'm thinking that maybe someone got murdered and I was a witness. Then the Detective drops the bomb.
"I brought you in today, because a lady is saying you sexually assaulted her".
I genuinely gasped aloud and got really defensive (I must've looked really sus). I said "who said I SA them??" And "I would never do that what the fuck?"
The Detective pulls out this photo and it's a photo of Ashley. He asks if I know her and I say yes.
Then, I tell him everything from what I knew. I said that she gave me 100% permission to kiss her, and that I didn't force myself onto her nor make her DO anything. She was the one that asked first and leaned in first. I thought to myself how could she do this to me. The first week I get out a psychward and now I'm instantly being accused of sexually assault?
The Detective stops the recording thing and says that's all for today. He told me if I did do anything without consent, they would find out (trying to intimidate me) and that I should confess now.
I shouldn't of have even said anything without a lawyer. That was also my fuck up.
The Detective calls in my mom privately and then we both leave. My mom was angry too, basically on my side.
So...what happened after that? Nothing. The case was dropped I guess because I never got a call back from that Detective or from any cops. I also called the police department to ask about the case, and they said that it didn't exist.
Honestly, fuck Ashley. And fuck me. I learned something that day: Don't fucking kiss anyone in a damn mental hospital. They are there for a reason. I was there for a reason. To get better. Not to get whatever the fuck that was.
TL;DR: I kissed a girl in a psychward which led to a case about me "sexually assaulting" her even though it was consensual. I also spoke without a lawyer
Edit: those who are saying "fake StoRy", fuck off. You're telling me you'll believe stories like "my girlfriend turned into buzz lightyear and fucked me in my ass" than some non-dramatic story like this (kinda).
And yes, I'm hiding behind a screen saying fighting words. Bite me redditors. BITE. ME.
But anyway, ty to all the stories some told and advice given. Appreciate it <3i love reddit.
r/tifu • u/GarbageOffice • Mar 23 '23
L TIFU by telling my English teacher I would whip her.
This happened a long time ago when I was about 12 years old. I'm from Slovakia, where we have this really weird tradition during Easter (it's right around the corner!) that involves pouring buckets of water on women and spanking them with whips made out of willow branches, decorated with colorful ribbons that each girl you visit attaches to the rest. There are literally groups of guys walking down the street looking like the peaky fookin blinders collecting debts during that day lol.
Understandably, this may appear very bizarre or even barbaric to a foreigner at first glance as it simply sounds like we go door-to-door chasing, waterboarding, and beating women. While partially true, there is some symbolism behind it and these customs go way back to ancient spring festivals. We pour buckets of water on our women to make sure that they stay as beautiful as they are for the entire year. The same goes for the spanking custom, where we additionally ward off evil spirits. Sounds much better now doesn't it?... Doesn't it?... Now with this cultural background info in mind, back to my story.
I always enjoyed English lessons when I was a kid, however, my grammar and vocabulary were very limited at that time since I was a beginner. One day, a new teacher arrived in our school. She was young, came from Oregon, and was really nice and friendly. I may have had a little crush on her. The fact that she was a native English speaker was very exciting to everyone and it was the first time I've interacted with a foreigner in a second language.
She often talked about her life in America, her own customs and traditions such as Thanksgiving or Halloween that we don't really celebrate here. A couple of months after her arrival, during the Easter holidays, I wanted to demonstrate our customs to her for a change, and thought I'd pay her a visit.
Naturally, I equipped myself with a small bucket of water, a nice perfume that you add after the whole ordeal is over and besides granting them infinite beauty they also smell nice afterwards. Then of course, my primary weapon - a traditional willow whip. After getting ready, I made my way to her apartment building - UNANNOUNCED.
Once I reached the door, found her name, got my broken English ready, and confidently buzzed her apartment. She clearly wasn't expecting any visitors and sounded genuinely confused. The dialogue went something like this:
- Hello, I am.
- Who is it?
- It is I, <name>.
- <name> ? What are you doing here?
- I come to whip you.
- I'm sorry?
- No it's ok, I come for the traditional whipping!
This was followed by dead silence, after which she buzzed me in without saying anything. I went inside thinking this was an absolutely smooth conversation and felt quite proud of myself for my impressive English skills. I took the elevator to her floor and knocked on the door. I imagine she must have been quite terrified at that point. She slowly and carefully opened the door just enough to take a peek at this goofy idiot kid standing there with a smile on his face, holding a whip in his hand and a bucket of water in the other. The ridiculous exchange continued something among these lines:
- Happy Easter!
- <name> Are you ok? What's going on?
- You need to be pretty so I put water on you now ok?
- What? No, why? <name> is this a prank? Where are your parents?
- No no dad and I go whip my mom and aunt soon, you first! Ughhh... a tradition!
- Umm... ok? How does it work though, do I wash my hands and face in the bucket or something?
- Haha no. I need to put this water on you and whip you with this. Then you're pretty.
- ...Then I'm pretty, ok. Well, I don't know what's happening and I'm a little scared but go ahead I guess? Please be careful though, can you be careful?
Thank God I could at least tell that she was in a bit of a shock so luckily I didn't empty the bucket in her face point-blank like I would usually do to my female relatives. Instead I just put my hands in the bucket and gently splashed some water on her with my fingers. She was laughing at this point but was still visibly confused saying "What is going on?" repeatedly. Then I said:
- Now I spray this on you so you smell nice ok? took out the perfume from my pocket**
- Haha I get it so I'm not pretty and I stink too, great!
- Ok and now I whip you with this and say a poem!
Yeah there's also this ridiculous chant I forgot to mention that men say while putting girls through all of this. I found a spot-on explanation of it when I was looking for a rough translation:
"And then there are the absurd chants which more than folklore resemble lines out of a Monty Python movie: Wacky-wimpy, give no fishy, there’s just one thing that I beg, a wonderful Easter egg."
She was laughing and hollering the entire time and once I was done, I immediately followed that with:
- Ok haha now I want candy! (it's also customary for the girls to give kids chocolate eggs, sweets, or even pocket money, adults get booze)
- Oh! But I don't have any at home. I'm so sorry!
She went inside to look for something and came back with a tic tac or a gum I think, and apologized again for not having anything better at home.
I tried explaining that it's alright and all I wanted to do was show her the tradition and left, completely happy with how that all went down. She talked to my former English teacher in school who then called me to join them and helped translate things so everything was explained and they had a nice laugh about it. However, I'm absolutely mortified thinking back at how clueless I was that day and what an embarrassment that was.
TL;DR: Back in elementary school, I paid an unannounced visit to my new English teacher from America and with my broken English told her I came to whip and pour water on her because I wanted to demonstrate a silly tradition of my country.
L TIFU by drinking too much and turning into a monster
I’m generally quite shy and a harmless person. I’m at uni and go out drinking pretty regularly, everything was all good and fun until last night.
My friend, I’ll call her Emily, knew two friends that were going out. She asked if I could join and invited the three of us to her block. We had a good time drinking and sitting on the scaffolding outside her room. We were planning to go to a nice club after, but last entry was 11:30 and they felt like chatting a little longer so they said we’ll go to one closer and shuts later.
I don’t like that club and I was a bit tired by that point, they kept talking about their ski trip that I didn’t do. So I was thinking of calling it a night and go home, but at that moment security came knocking saying there was a noise complaint and also said we’re not meant to sit on the scaffolding.
I’ve had a fair few drinks already and was quite annoyed when they were taking our names. After they left they said we should get going, of course I was not remotely in the mood after all that. But in a stupid combination of tipsy impulse and trying to not calling it quits and ruining the night for everyone, I grabbed the bottle of vodka sitting on the desk, about a quarter full, and downed it.
At that point Emily was completely gone, she threw up out the window and they got her in bed. It was clear we weren’t going out. I don’t remember much what happened after, only a blur of getting in a taxi, throwing up, squatting by the bus stop because I was too tired to move, people asking if I was ok.
I slipped on mud and dislocated my knee a few months ago, another time in a toilet and it still hadn’t fully healed. I must’ve fallen over at some point and once it happened I was stumbling and it went downhill from there. So when I was on the ground at the bus stop my knee was killing me, I was so powerless I couldn’t get up until a lot later, by then there was nobody around me anymore. I practically crawled home and crashed into my bed, knocking over everything in my path.
I woke up to a basically unmovable left leg, patches of scratched skin on my right knee and palm that was like a pool of dried blood. My right ankle gone as well. I didn’t want to wake up like this, tried to sleep again hoping it would heal a bit but not much luck. Had painkillers and limped with my crutches from my last injury to the bus.
When I checked my phone I saw a text from Emily, ‘how much from last night do you remember’. It felt a bit more solemn than I’d expect from her, but thought she was just hungover and wanted to see if I remembered enough to fill her in. I told her I knew everything up to leaving her room, told her to say I’m sorry to the other two guys I was with, being the drunk mess I was I felt bad for them.
I was checking in at the hospital when she replied, saying what apparently happened last night. I immediately froze and almost felt like I was having a fever.
She said apparently I was making a move on one of her friends, insulted the other, and slapped her in the face when she was in bed. I was so shocked I couldn’t react when the receptionist asked me about my injury. I told her I hoped she was joking and was really sorry about what happened. She went on to talk about how annoyed she was and how she felt guilty with the other two. I apologised ten more times and said I had no idea it went that way, but I knew nothing I could say would make any of it ok.
I’m still in shock over all this, it has truly been a nightmare and brought me to a new low. I was already struggling socially and with my mental health and I don’t have anyone else to talk to, now my life is crumbling into pieces. She was my best friend and one of my very few friends. I always wondered when we’d have an argument but this is the last situation I’d want to get into. I don’t know how to talk to her anymore and I am devastated.
I say with all honesty that is something I can’t believe I’d do. If it wasn’t her telling me I wouldn’t have believed it, even when she did I was in full denial. I’m trying really hard to find a perspective that wouldn’t lead to the conclusion that I am a disgusting person, but I can’t. I never liked myself but this made me genuinely despise myself for what I’ve done. My ‘true colours’ that being drunk revealed. The only thing stopping me from feeling any worse emotionally is the overpowering pain from every body part that has been broken.
I spent the whole day around hospitals today. I have an exam on Tuesday but I’m not in any position physically or mentally and I spent the whole weekend not revising. Bad things have happened to me all the time but this is one of the only occasions it’s all my fault, and I couldn’t see it coming at all. I don’t think I’ll be able to recover from this.
TL;DR: I woke up from a bad night out, kneecap busted once again, feeling stupid that I drank too much and was sick everywhere. Turns out I actually was a massive dick to everyone and slapped my friend when she was hammered and asleep. I’ve now lost my best friend and can’t forgive myself.
r/tifu • u/SplendidMellon • Mar 21 '23
L TIFU by willingly depriving myself of sleep for days
Update: Against peoples best wishes, I stayed up long enough to get some shopping done, I also had brunch with my girlfriend to make sure I had eaten enough. I got about 10 hours of sleep and feel pretty good now, i think the total time awake ended up being about 74ish hours. Despite what poeple think I promise I wasn't on the cusp of death. About to eat again and reply to some comments
-Okay it's 1:46am Wednesday the 22nd here and I (22M) have been awake since 12pm Sunday for what I think makes almost 62 hours. I want to list a few observations
For context this obviously wasn't the desired outcome, it started as intending to stay up for one night to get it done and got out of hand. Also I in no way encourage taking ritalin the way I did or mixing it with caffeine. I’m an Architecture student in Australia and have an assignment due Thursday night and I had barely started. I’ve been fueling this exercise in what now feels like self torture with, and do your best not to judge me:
-Food. Sort of. On Sunday I ate approx 300 kcal of leftover pasta. Monday was a big one. Unfortunately I did forget to eat all day so it was a single godly meal centering on the divine Large Zinger Box. This was paired with 3 wicked wings, a maxi popcorn chicken, a supercharged slider, and a pepper mayo slider. No idea the calories but well and truly a “feel like absolute shit” quantity. Tuesday I had 2 baos, a far cry from the prior binge but havent had any desire to eat
-A steady supply of (prescribed) ritalin, starting with 40mg at the beginning of a dedicated study session and an additional 20mg every 3 hours to account for the half-life.
I estimate I’ve munched down on about 300ish mg so far :(
-Caffeine. Far too many monster mango locos, monster zero ultras, and cans of red bull. A simply exquisite ritalin pairing that I could not recommend more, provided you want a couple of your primary senses, and what feels like new ones all together, to gain the ability to scream at you with each rapidly quickening heartbeat.
-Pure delusion and stupidity with a helping hand from the sunk cost fallacy
Now The Issues!!
-okay the biggest thing is paranoia. At almost all times I can see what looks like someone moving just in the corner of my peripheral vision. Any small noises become an immediate spike of dread. I'm sitting in my uni commons room completely alone and don’t really feel safe (i know i am)(probably). I fear they notice me seeing them and hide really quickly. Will need to investigate further.
-Lack of ability to think/plan. I just spent a good 3 minutes trying to plan how I would walk out of this building. None of the routes made more sense than another and I couldn't mentally envision myself moving at all so they seemed equally good and worth re-pondering to get to the bottom of this dire conundrum. I should also add that I had no intention of standing, let alone going anywhere, it was just to see if I could, then I got lost in it until I realised I'd been staring at the wall for far too long. I'm also realising I can't conjure any mental images up either. Really cool for the drawing part of this assignment where I can't think of what I'm going to draw.
-I just zone out mid-thought and forget what I was thinking about. To be fair I'm like that normally with ADHD too, but I feel like my head’s a colander and my, obviously revolutionary, thoughts are that sweet sweet starchy pasta water flooding out.
-Big jitters, earthquakes in the palms of my hands. Surgery patients fear me and Jazz pianists want to be me. (currently listening to Ryo Fukui’s - scenery, incredible jazz album)
-Not a single thought of value
-Positives however… not looking nearly as dishevelled as I should be. Don't get me wrong, my body's a mess. I’m pissing constantly. Each one a new hue between a radiant yellow and a tasteful sage green, every muscle and joint aching… you just read everything before this, you know it’s not good, BUT,, Hair’s sitting kinda nice, eye bags are hardly there, skins not looking too bad. Overall I'd say a visual improvement.
In conclusion, I spent an hour writing this because I couldn't slam two brain cells together to save my degree. I fear if i wrote “to save my life” some subconscious force would keep them apart just to end this. I might even support the cause at this point. My now 63 consecutive wakefull hours have gleaned me an abundance of sweet fuck all. I truly believe the pitiful collection of sub-par work I slapped together could have been done in a day or so of being rested. And NOT ONCE did that fucker in the corner of my eye offer to help. I will be surprised if it's finished in time. I’m expecting the worst :)
I’ve been awake for over 60 hours to work on a uni assignment. Have done less than I would have had I not. My once throbbing juicy brain is a mere paste pooling at the base of my skull. I fear failure is unavoidable and the consequences of my hubris lasting.
r/tifu • u/Le_PoopSoup • Apr 06 '23
L TIFU by flooding the second floor of a hotel
So this all happened last night at 7:30-ish pm. I’m laying in my hotel room in rural South Dakota. I’m half asleep when my hotel phone rings. It’s Curtis with the front desk and he begins the convo by asking how I’m feeling. I tell him I’m fine and ask the reason for the call..
“Sir, I don’t want to alarm you, but earlier today a woman was doing laundry on the second floor. We have reason to believe she may have accidentally broken a gas main. The gas leak has made its way to the hallways, and we’ve already received a few guest complaints of nausea, dizziness.. some are light headed in rooms around you. We’re in contact with the fire department who is on the way, but we want to take a few measures to reduce risk and help with your safety until they arrive.”
Can I leave? Grab my things and go? I was just pondering dinner.
“We don’t want to start a panic and alarm the other guests, we believe it to be contained mostly to the hallways on your floor. We’re hopeful the fire department will arrive soon.. in the meantime, can you wet a towel, roll it up, and place it at the base of the door? Come back to the phone when your finished, ok?”
I take care of the door and open my window as far as I can. It’s 25 outside, but hey, I can breathe. I return to the phone and tell Curtis it’s done.
“The fire department would like us to take precautionary measures so we’re asking all guests to unplug all electronics in the room. Can you take care of that for us and come back to the phone when you’re finished?”
I unplug and turn off everything. A few breaths through the window screen. I consider jumping or running. Instead I go back to the phone and ask permission to leave.
“Were you able to unplug your electronics? Good! Now we don’t want to evacuate because we’re concerned of the carbon monoxide levels in the hallways. Instead, one last thing we want to do is disable the sprinkler in your room. In the past when the fire department came out for similar calls, there’s been an instance where the sprinklers accidentally triggered. We don’t want your room to flood if it happens again. If you’re comfortable doing it, you’ll need to knock the red ‘temperature gauge’ out of the sprinkler to deactivate it.”
I don’t feel comfortable doing that bro. Seems like bad news, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I might just come downstairs.
“Sir please, the hallways are bad and the fire departments close. In your room should be a complimentary pen. Take that and use it to knock the red ‘pin’ out”
I can’t explain my discomfort, but if it must be done, it must be done. I take the pen and knock the pin…
Old dirty sewage water begins to fill the room. I panic and grab my work things, phone still off the hook. I run to the bathroom and briefly panic. After 30 seconds, something has to be done. I’m going for it. I wrap my face in a wet towel and bolt for the elevator. At the elevator is the manager of the property. No face covering, no urgency.
“Are you from room 206? Why did you activate the fire alarm?”
What are you talking about?! Are we not in a state of emergency? My room is flooding! We need to go.
“Sir wth are you talking about?.. actually, follow me please.”
As we ride the elevator down, I’m shaking like a leaf. I’m traumatized, but as the heart rate slows and I explain the situation, I begin to realize what manager was only going to confirm. It was all a prank…
All my luggage and laundry got flooded. I sit in the lobby with drenched clothes, covered in colorful dirt, listening to the several guest complaints as the second floor continue to flood. I have just become public enemy number one in this small town. They can’t shut the water off, no one knows how. GM and fire department arrive within minutes of each other.
The GM is an amazing person with a heart of gold, extremely pragmatic. She hears me out and empathizes. Gets me a new room while I step out to grab clothes. Says it isn’t the first time this has happened, and that she’s very sorry the call made it through.
TL;DR Today I got pranked and flooded the second floor of a rural SD hotel
Big sorry to the staff. I can’t imagine what a pain in their side my stay was for them, but they handled it with grace and warmth.
r/tifu • u/FartingChampion • Apr 11 '23
L TIFU BY WAKING UP MID PROCEDURE AND TRYING TO FIGHT THE ENTIRE DENTAL STAFF
First I'll start by explaining that as a foster child I had some extremely traumatic experience with a particular dentist. In hindsight I can tell that he was a sadist, but at the moment I didn't understand. He was very mean and he always hurt me and I didn't really have anyone to turn to because my foster parents either didn't care or didn't believe me. As a result I have extreme anxiety about going to the dentist and I generally prefer to get put out for anything more major than a filling rather than sit there for hours having an anxiety attack.
This isn't my first foray into wildly reacting to sedatives, but it is my most embarrassing one. There were no outbursts the last time I was sedated at the dentist, although I did keep waking up and trying to vape until they took my vape away from me. I was told I accepted this readily and didn't make a fuss, just laid back down. Also, previously, after a knee surgery I found my phone on my ride home and I texted a few of my more shiftless coworkers and told them exactly what I thought of their efforts. Luckily we're all friends and I'm not the hold anything back kind of guy, so they'd already heard it all before. They just thought it was hilarious and made fun of me about it for a couple months. In reality, when I'm not full of sedatives I'm not the same asshole and I'm more likely to offer help than complain or judge, even if I do shit talk while I do it. Unfortunately, today's experience might take a little bit more walking back on my part. This time turned out a little different. Maybe a lot different. This time I really fucked up.
Before the procedure I tried to remind them that it takes a surprising amount of sedative to keep me unconscious but they decided to be safe and just go with the minimum to start with. This meant that I wasn't fully out, but I was chill enough to just zone out to music and mostly not mind what was happening. At least, until the point that I decided I did mind. In fact I minded very much. An embarrassing amount, actually.
After a little while of dozing in and out of twilight sleep the dentist started doing some weird thing where he would jerk on my cheek very hard as he pierced my gum and jaw with what felt like a needle. Later they explained this as a distraction from the pain of was using a syringe to inject a local anesthetic. But at this moment it didn't matter what he was doing, I'd had enough. I suddenly jerked my head a little bit when he jerked my cheek for the 4th or fifth time and the needle went into the tip of my tongue, instantly numbing one side of my tongue. Really it was my fault, but I was in no condition to accept that. I don't really know what I thought in that moment, but I know that I was not thrilled.
I pushed my very kind dentist and at least one other person away from me, stood up, and started yelling and swearing at everyone, swaying around drunkenly, screaming God knows what. I was dizzy as hell, I'm not sure if I understood what was happening at all. I edged my way around the room until my back was against a wall so no one could sneak up on me. By now there was an uproar and probably five or six staff were there in front of me with wide eyes and hands held out in front of them, begging me to chill out. I have no idea what I was saying but I ranted the entire time. A good few minutes at least. I know I said I was pissed, that there's no reason to jerk on my cheek if I'm sleeping because if I'm sleeping you don't have to disguise the pain, and anyways I'm 40 years old, you're not fooling me. Just give me the shot and save your cheek pulling games for children. At one point the very sweet tech ask me if I'd had caffeine or Adderall or any sort of stimulants in the last 24 hours that would keep me awake (I hadn't). This also offended me for some reason, so I started ranting about that too. Loudly.On and on I went, backed up against the wall with my fists up in front of me, swaying like an alcoholic. There was a wedge in my mouth holding my teeth apart that at some point I took out and threw away from myself. I was still attached to the blood pressure machine and I was jerking it around, someone had to hold on to it to keep it from tipping over. All in all it was ugly. Very ugly.
Eventually the reality of the situation started to dawn on me. I realized that was surrounded by dental staff, who were 75% kindly older women, all of them watching with horrified expressions as I realed drunkenly, bouncing my 250 lb frame around and screaming blearily from behind clenched fists. As it dawned on me I calmed down, and because I actually like them all very much and they're always kind to me I was able to pull it together and sit back down. They gave me more sedative, eventually I passed back out, and by the time I woke up it was time to go home. I didn't really remember a single thing about the appointment in that moment. I was just ready to go home and go to bed for a few hours.
Fast forward to evening and I'm now finally sober enough to process thoughts. I just got a voicemail from the dentist about 12 hours later, very cautiously inquiring into my well-being, which brought that flood of half-memories back to mind. I'm very embarrassed. This is my first dentist that I have had as an adult, my first dentist that I returned to, and I was really hoping for it to be my last dentist as well. Hopefully they take me back. I plan to go down there tomorrow with some flowers and a very heartfelt apology. And hopefully they make a note in my chart to throw in a little extra sedative next time they have to put me out.
TL;DR: I woke up mid procedure and tried to fight the entire staff for a few minutes until they were able to convince me to calm down and sit back down.
L TIFU by opening the pantry closet and ruining my appetite
I awoke to the sound of my alarm loudly buzzing. With a grown, I rolled over and grabbed my phone to stop the annoying noise. I climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, thinking this would be an average morning. However, I was unaware of the horrors that awaited me.
After finishing in the bathroom, I made my way to the kitchen. Usually, I would only watch my sibling get on the bus and immediately go back to sleep, but I was hungry.
I beelined to the pantry door, my need for food leading my swift movements, but this desire was violently overtaken as realization hit my face and nostrils. An ungodly smell filled my nose, seeping into the very depths of my soul. I flinched away, the smell of death still clinging to my senses. I scanned the closet floor. This horrific smell must have come from a dead animal, possibly a mouse.
To my surprise and relief, no furry creature was in sight; but the smell of a baked turd still insisted upon its existence. My eyes shot up. I scanned the shelves looking for the beast behind the stench, my search ending in failure. I tried sniffing it out, but the smell had already bled through the closet, bathing everything in its musk. I thought of any possible culprits and remembered the rank stench of rotten potatoes. Knowing what to look for, my eyes darted around the closet before landing on a plastic bag labeled Russet potatoes, a happy little potato posing next to the Merriweather font.
I lunged forward, grabbed the bag, and examined its insides. Though I dared not open the thing, I saw liquid remains of fallen potatoes slosh around the plastic container. I quickly disposed of the crime and grabbed a bottle of Fabreeze, prepared to cleanse the closet. I thought it was over and believed I could sit back and rest; despite my ruined appetite, I thought things were fine.
But I was wrong.
A smell began to rise and flood the room. My stomach dropped as I turned my horror-stricken face toward the garbage can. I rushed to a hallway closet and grabbed two plastic bags before returning to what I naively believed would be the potato's final resting place. I summoned all the courage I could muster before reaching for the bag.
With shaking hands, I lifted the plastic sack out of the trash and into one plastic bag. However, attacked by an indescribable smell, worse than the others before it, I gagged, the dying breath of the rotten potatoes clogging my nose. I retched again before concealing the mess in a thin plastic layer of protection. Though I knew this would not be enough, reaching for the second bag, I covered the first without incident.
Instead of putting the vile thing back into the garbage, no, I knew better, I went outside and threw it into the bin, shuddering before closing the lid and sealing away the fallen beast.
I knew this ordeal wasn't over. The potatoes had left a smelly wound upon my home, pungent and festering. It needed to be treated.
I grabbed the bottle of Fabreezed and attacked the trashcan and its surrounding. When the smell was drowned out, I turned towards the pantry. I prepared myself for my final battle with the potatoes' nauseous gas.
It was a long and exhausting battle, one for the history books. The putrid smell fought valiantly, but in the end, I was victorious!
Make sure you check on your potatoes guys, sometimes they grow into little aliens covered in roots but they can also turn into a disgusting, rotting mess. I was lucky that the baggy didn’t have any holes, otherwise, the pantry would’ve been covered in liquid potato stink and I would’ve needed to deep clean the entire thing.
On another note, I hoped you enjoyed this stupid little tale of potatoes gone rancid and my appetite ruined. It was fun to write so I hope it was fun for you to read👍 I'm sorry for any grammar mistake I might have made. I did use Grammarly because I have the writing ability of a slab of bread(you might be able to tell from these last tidbits since I'm not using anything other than autocorrect and spell check to fix it). I hope you have had a good day and if not, I hope this story helped make you smile.
TL;DR: Rotten potatoes that smell like Satan's leaky arsehole can ruin your appetite.
r/tifu • u/Cheap_Clock_9416 • Mar 11 '23
L TIFU: I lost a friend and am probably a creep
About a year ago, I (31F) became friends with a guy from work - let's call him Jake (26M). We started chatting at a company party, got along, and hung out outside of work a few times. He was going through some stuff at the time - he recently got dumped, was about to graduate from college, and was trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Many of these struggles resonated with my 20-something-old self, and it felt good to be able to impart some wisdom. On the other hand, he was confident and assertive, and I felt perhaps in that sense I could learn a little from him. I was also just happy that someone cool wanted to hang out with me - I'm a pretty anxious person, and I don't have a vibrant social life.
Now, Jake was cute in a way that was hard for me to ignore, but he was never a viable partner for me. The thought was there at first, but it dissipated once he started to come to me for relationship advice regarding other women - I would never pursue someone who was not interested in me. There was also the age difference and the fact that we were in different places in our lives. While I was still a little attracted to him, I was firmly settled on not acting on it and not letting it show. I'm not normally very feminine, but I think I acted even more boyish around him, just so that it was crystal clear that no flirting was happening.
At one point Jake invited me to his birthday party. I didn't want to disappoint a friend on his birthday, so I went, but I get anxious in social groups, especially if there are people I don't know, so I drank a lot to make myself at ease. After the party Jake became more absent, saying he had to study, which made sense. He agreed to meet up when he had more time, but he didn't follow up, and as bad as I am at reading social cues, I felt that he might not be very interested in seeing me, so I backed off. I felt a little sad about it though because I valued him as a friend, and I didn't understand what made him change his mind about me. So about 6 months later, I messaged him, and after we caught up I asked him directly if there was a reason he had blown me off, to which he replied that at the party I was all over him, and I had crossed his boundaries when he had told me to stop. He said that he liked me, but not in a romantic way, and that was too much for him to deal with. I was flabbergasted, apologized profusely, and asked about details, convinced that this was something that had been erased from my memory. After a few days of mulling it over I did recall a situation like this, but I remembered it a little differently. In my drunken mind, I was just showing friendly affection, I did something like rest my head on his shoulder, and when he pulled away and said he didn't want to be touched, I almost took it as a joke and purposefully touched his arm, to which he reacted very nervously, so I cut it off. This is a shitty, shitty thing I do when I'm drunk - I think it's funny to do the thing someone says they dislike to see how they react. (One time a guy was going off about how he loved his shoes and hated it when someone stepped on them, and I thought it'd be funny to do exactly that. He screamed at me, I apologized instantly and again later when I sobered up, and it didn't ruin our friendship, but I admit it's a stupid, childish thing to do, and I don't know why on earth I do that. Honestly, though, I don't think I'm gonna do that ever again after this.)
Anyway, I trust his account better than my memory. If I had just been friendly, I wouldn't have made him so uncomfortable, and let's face it, I do have a history of becoming slutty when I drink. In the past, I have woken up naked next to people with little to no recollection of the events and had to explain to them that this wasn't in fact the beginning of our future together, I had just gotten wasted and wanted to get laid. I don't do that anymore; I barely even go out anymore; but I am what I am. And what I apparently am is a predatory creep that harasses young boys.
I do wish he had told me straight up, instead of pretending everything was okay for months, but I understand that it was well within his rights. Maybe we could have stayed friends, but maybe what I did was unforgivable. I have a friend who crossed my physical boundaries once, and it changed how I felt about him, but I didn't cut him off, he apologized, and I know he understood it was not an okay thing to do to anyone. We survived it. But we had known each other for years then - maybe that friendship had a more solid foundation to begin with.
This whole thing fucked me up pretty badly. I told one friend, who said that he had seen me drunk and flirty in the past, and it wasn't something that would traumatize anyone. He said it was normal for me to feel embarrassed, but it wasn't that big of a deal. It's been a few months and it keeps popping up in my head, I feel so ashamed and my self-esteem is at its all-time low. I guess I'm also a little concerned that this gets out, although we don't really know a lot of the same people. I would maybe like to talk it through with him, but I don't think he's interested in talking, and I want to respect his wishes. I do recognize that I'm not the victim here and my sense of self-worth is none of his concern. I don't know how to process this by myself though. How do I recover from this? Do I even deserve to recover from this?
TL;DR: I lost a friend because I got too touchy and now I'm questioning my existence.
r/tifu • u/possible_showers • Jan 09 '23
L TIFU by topping 550 lbs [UPDATE]
About a month ago I admitted to the Internet I was too fat to travel and visit my dying father. If you missed the post, here it is: https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/zmjalp/tifu_by_topping_550_lbs/
I honestly didn't expect the overwhelming positive comments on my original post. Time will tell if this was my "aha moment", but something did click when I read through the comments. I knew I had to try harder, if not for me then for my father (was in Hospital ICU), so I did. Below is that journey.
To recap, I needed to find a way to physically transport myself between two major cities of quite some distance, transport myself between houses and hospitals, and face my family and friends at hopefully what would be my final biggest size. I couldn't drive/have a friend drive me between the cities as this would be a several days journey and my friendships aren't that strong.
I first started with what I distilled as a freight transport issue to solve.
I found 3 medical transport specialist companies and 11 companies that had 'we'll deliver anything' marketing material. While I continued to have positive correspondence, all options were exhausted quite quickly. If you're wondering - two companies laughed directly at me, two hung up on me, and one suggested an option which was $12k and I had to sign a waiver (was the sketchiest of the options). None of the medical transport specialists would help given the distance to travel.
I next turned to the airlines. One was quite helpful and convinced me it would be better and cheaper to buy a business class seat which had extra wide seat and more leg room over buying a neighboring seat. I used public transport to get to the airport (surprisingly went well), got to the plane, and then ... I didn't fit in the seat. The armrests weren't adjustable. I tried to wedge myself in but my thigh would hard press against the backrest adjustment button so there was no way to keep the seat upright. I didn't get to the seatbelt issue, and there were no other seats available. I was rejected from the flight.
Several emotions and events happened afterwards. I wouldn't be flying that day and I lied to my family why I wouldn't be flying.
The airline called me the next day and offered me two economy seats at the same business class ticket price (time of year and last-minute tickets elevated the economy class ticket prices). The plane had rows of 3 and I didn't want to risk anything, so I bought another seat so I had the entire row. Given the time of the year, that one seat almost cost me the same as the original ticket cost. The middle seat armrests could be lifted. While one flight assistant had a problem with it being up on takeoff, that was my only option so we needed to go with it. The seatbelt extender wasn't an issue - they had it on hand. I was quite nervous about that but they proactively brought it to me without asking. Yeah I know, the need was obvious.
I hadn't told my family I would be flying again in fear I'd run into another problem, and with a bit of a positive buzz from a successful flight I thought I'd surprise them. I tried two taxis - I couldn't get in the car. I tried a minivan taxi, and I couldn't wear the seatbelt. One taxi driver refused to look at me and locked their doors. I then decided to use public transport. This turned out to being a four-hour journey as nothing was direct, but I made it to my parents' house.
After all of that I couldn't find a way to transport myself to the hospital to see my father. I tried to sit in my mother's car in advance but wouldn't fit, so I lied again and said I had a bunged knee and couldn't bend it when it came to visiting him. She didn't overly question this, but I'm sure she knew the real reason.
After 28 days my father was released from the hospital on Christmas day. I saw him at my parents' house. He is doing a lot better, has long Covid, and he never said anything to me about my weight. All of the family conversations were centered around my father. I couldn't find a way to start a conversation about myself either, even with my mother whom I'm the closest with. For another time. My mother suggested I use a different bathroom for showering. It had a bigger door to access it. I declined and squeezed into the usual bathroom. On reflection, she was trying to help me and be more comfortable. I'm an idiot for not picking up on this in the moment.
I lied again when I returned home, saying I would catch a taxi as I had an ungodly hour of a flight. I repeated everything in reverse.
As for my health, I have started another attempt at weight loss. I got a reading on my bathroom scales on Sunday for the first time - 555 lbs (252 kg). My only positive from this is thinking that because I have a reading my weight must have declined from whatever it was over Christmas as previously my scales would error with maximum weight exceeded.
Being morbidly obese sucks. I'm going to attempt to change that for me this year.
EDIT: I'm updating this post nearly 2 weeks after posting it. Similar to my first post, I wasn't prepared for all of the support and comments. It truly was unexpected. For those that gave awards, thank you, but you shouldn't have. What I did wasn't brave or heroic, and without my father being in the situation he was in I doubt I would have pushed myself this hard to make myself see him. That aside I did learn some things about myself and the world I interact with as a result of this journey, and these will stay with me.
I've included below additional information in relation to the various questions and discussions many have shared. Hopefully this helps to further shape your view of my situation, and for those that are perhaps in a similar situation.
- Not all airlines have a passenger of size policy. The airline choices that I had no such policy. The only thing offered to me was business class with wider seats, an exit row with extra leg room at extra cost, and the option to purchase additional neighboring seats. None of these options came with a discount.
- I've seen many medical professionals over the years including those that specialise in weight loss. I have a medical care plan, have had blood work done, and I've seen a cardiologist. Without going into all of the specifics I hadn't found a path with any of them that provided a strong direction to pursue treatment A, surgery B, nutrition plan C etc. Some of the reason for that is definitely on me, but I also haven't felt the medical industry more broadly has been that accommodating for my situation.
- Many people have provided recommendations for certain weight loss related drugs. This isn't for me. I've pretty much had no tablet/drug in my whole life besides vaccines. Maybe I have a phobia of this external help?
- My entire family are related to the medical/health industry in some way. I think this has negatively impacted my confidence to ask for help. Bizarre I know, but maybe I'm just intimidated. Plus, I'm the only fat one in the family.
- A few people have suggested I may have an eating disorder. I haven't provided a lot of details around why I'm fat from the perspective of what I eat, but I will share that I know what is good food for me vs bad, I know what good portion sizes looks like, and I know when I'm eating in a way that is bad for me. Maybe for me I have a disorder, or an addiction. A medical professional would need to label it. I will need to consciously and continuously force myself to make good choices over relying on setting good habits.
- Real life doesn't really cater for morbidly obese people. I don't encourage acceptance, but more can be done to accommodate our needs, even if its just to help us move around for medical appointments and utilise the most basic human services. You can charge us more for it - for me, it is the price I must pay for the poor choices I've made.
- I've continued to lose weight each week from the time of this post. I'm making an effort to keep this trend going.
TL;DR: I got laughed at by freight companies trying to ship my fat self like a large box, was rejected from a flight for being fat, paid a fortune for new airplane tickets, lied to my family about travelling complications, and managed to see my father in person after he survived a near death experience from health complications.
r/tifu • u/Lostmyfaithtopoetry • 26d ago
L TIFUpdate by losing my faith over a poem
TL;DR: Everything changed for the better
I'm sorry for coming back so late, so many things have happened and I totally forgot about Reddit.
The night after I had posted my wife came to the hospital and confessed that she was feeling almost the same while I was believing god doesn't exist she believed he is evil. Our families pressured her that we weren't believing enough that is why our daughter had gotten sick and as I was struggeling they convinced her that it was my fault which lead to her being pressured to pray even more, so I am the one here to blame I could have seen the signs and I am trying to make things up to my wife for causing even more trouble and burden on her instead of helping her or listening.
We have spend the night with our daughter and decided to just take her and run so the next morning we went home and packed a few bags and crossed the country. My wife and I talk a lot, not sure where we are going from here afterwards but we are currently considering staying or moving somewhere else and going no contact with our families as it becomes more and more clear to us that we have wasted so much time with praying and in church that we could have spend with our daughter instead. Currently we only talk with our parents twice a week as our daughter shouldn't lose her grandparents now. We have gone no contact with everyone else from our community who are still trying to pressure and blame us and convince us to keep praying. My wife is another person without the pressure of our families and the community and I'm falling in love with her again, only now I realized that I haven't seen her laugh in ages.
Two weeks ago our daughter wanted to go to church and we did, being greeted with a whole new level of community. The priest here is very open and kind and I ended up telling him everything. He listened to my story and told me all the things you guys told me, that it is completely normal to lose faith or question god in these times and that it was toxic what happened to us. He didn't try to get me to find back to god or to keep praying, he just mentioned that it might have been him who wanted me to read the poem in order to change things and at first I doubted it but right now I'm not sure anymore. Everything has changed and despite the fact that my daughter is still dying we are happy and haven't been that close as a family since the diagnosis two years ago. My wife is as confused as I am to see how church can be and how a community can work together and help each other instead of just threatening and blaming, the way we were both raised and lived our entire lives.
We go to church twice a week now as our daughter loves it and still believes but we don't know yet if we will continue without her, we are both too overwhelmed to make a decision now. I haven't told my wife but I have thought about making a pilgrimage to the Camino de Santiago with her. Maybe it will help us find back to god or find out we don't have faith anymore or it will just keep us away from falling in the black hole after our daughter died. I will probably suggest it to her in a couple weeks after seeing how everything develops in the community and what my wife feels of course, right now I can't completely rule out that our journey with god is over as well as I can't rule out it's not, I just know we are on our way.
My daughter has started writing poems as well, it has helped to improve her mood and seeing her laugh after all is the best feeling in the world and was definitely worth all the trouble.
Big big thank you to all of you for your help, I really appreciate this and will never be able to put in words how much that really means to me. I still haven't read any of your messages, my inbox is flooded but I will start tonight once my girls are sleeping.
I do understand now it wasn't a fuck up, I was just devastated in the moment I've made that post. It felt like my entire world was crashing and it was but I would say for the better.
In the end a short poem my daughter wrote yesterday
"I have the best mom I have the best dad I love you both Now I'm asking that If you love me so You can't say no Can we get a cat?"
We're adopting a cat now Thank you to all of you