I found out over Christmas whilst doing a family history search online that my dad had fathered 2 children by a different woman about 20 years ago. Side note - He and my mother have been married for over 35 years. His name brought up results for not only myself and my two brothers births, but 2 other births. In 2012, the family had been shaken by two terrible events in close succession. Mum started chemotherapy for cancer in the April. Four months later, my grandma died of the disease aged 85. Some people choose to cut off a family member not because of abuse but because of religious belief, conflict, betrayal, addiction, mental illness, or criminal or unhealthy behaviors.Unless the ... About six months after he died, I found out many secrets that he had been keeping. The worst of it was that [my husband] had been involved with a woman in my town who was the mother of my daughter ... Older baby boomers — those age 63 to 71 — were nearly four times as likely as millennials to have had a secret account. About 11% of boomers admitted to secret bank accounts or credit cards ... But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. – Matthew 5:27-28. I was hiding in my sin. I allowed my thoughts to get out of control and I caused pain to my husband. I repented of what I did. I also repented from keeping it from my husband. The excuse in the OP of "You were not told - as you wouldn't understand" is a complete cop out. I have not been in such a serious situation as the OP, but the culmination of my family issues were when my brother and I were disinherited when parents sold their house and gave all the money to my younger sister. My mother later told me she had been forced to give the infant to her husband because he said he’d harm the two older children, both toddlers, if she didn’t. ... “Once a secret is out in the ... DEAR ABBY: I recently found out who my biological father is/was. Apparently, my mother and this man had an affair more than 50 years ago. There’s only speculation as to why. What bothers me is ... My husband and I are very happy together. We look like your average everyday middle class American family, but I have a deep dark secret that i have been keeping from him for 12 years.I have known all along that our only son is not his child. I know that he isnt my husbands child because, I Was already 4 weeks pregnant when i met my husband and became intimate with him. my sons biological ...
2020.09.19 10:56 Mandahrk Naked mom bed on
Fragments of old memories splattered on the back of my eyelids, a fuzzy kaleidoscope of images from the past - cuddling with mom under the blanket after watching the animated Aladdin movie, asking her about genies, feeling her warm fingers on my forehead, gently falling asleep in her embrace.
Little me could never have imagined that the lovable blue skinned creature that hissed out of an ornate lamp would one day kill her mom.
"A Djinn?" I asked. "A Genie, like in the movies?"
Uncle Barney chuckled. "Yeah, well, this one is certainly not helping you become the queen of some mystical kingdom."
I spent the next several minutes grilling him and Dad about the Djinn that was after me. They didn't tell me much however, simply because they just didn't know. They were stumbling around in the dark, and if it hadn't been for Uncle Barney's old drinking buddy Liam, we would have been completely blind. It was a total coincidence that Uncle Barney ran into, and became friends with, a bonafide monster hunter at a dingy bar. Liam, who was grieving the death of a friend at the time, proved to be a godsend, a lance of lightning streaking through the darkest night. Based on the feeble evidence presented to him after a drinking binge, he quickly surmised that we were dealing with a Djinn and prescribed some countermeasures. The fence outside, the tree stump within it, the talisman around my neck, an old curving dagger with a silver pommel tucked in the waistband of Dad's jeans - the only think that can hurt it - we had it all courtesy of Liam.
"Does that sate your curiosity, m'lady?" Uncle Barney asked, stifling a yawn. "Because it's getting quite late. It's already 3 AM. We should catch some sleep."
"Yeah." I replied begrudgingly.
"3 AM?" Dad asked, surprised. "Wow. I almost forgot."
He pulled me in for a hug. "Happy Birthday, Ciara."
What little sleep I got that night was plagued with the most horrid of nightmares.
I was in the woods outside. It was nighttime. The forest floor was dappled with pale moonlight that silted down through the tiny gaps in the thick canopy. I was running. Running like my life depended on it. Jumping over mossy overgrown roots, hurtling through dense underbrush, twigs and fallen branches cracking and snapping under my bare feet that splashed in the muddy morass, I ran. With sharp thorns of nettle slashing my calves open, I ran. And ran until my lungs burned and my muscles began to cramp. And ran some more. I could feel something was following me. Soundlessly slithering along with the shadows that slipped around wet tree barks, a terrible monstrosity gained on me with a relentlessness that could only be displayed by something not bound by the laws of nature. I couldn't see it, but I knew it was there. Stalking me. Hunting me. Watching me with a thousand red eyes nestled in the dark sopping leaves of the dense thicket surrounding me.
And so I ran. My legs pumping like pistons, I ran until it felt like my life was going to escape out of mouth.
That's when I stumbled upon the clearing. It was barren. Bereft of all vegetation, like the very land was cursed. Except for a small patch right in the middle, where a dense grove of lightning struck trees grew out of the ground like the gnarled, blackened fingers of some subterranean entity. But it weren't the trees themselves that drew my attention, but what was splayed out on top of them. As the branchless trees grew skyward, they bent inwards, towards the centre of the grove until their tops wove together. And on this uneven lattice rested the naked and mutilated corpse of my mother.
A swarm of flies hovered over her rotting body like a black cloud, descending every now and then to suck away at my mother's ripe flesh. I could smell her. Even though I knew I was dreaming, even though I knew it wasn't real, I could smell the stench of death on her. And it made me retch.
I woke up with a start. My heart pounded and my body ached like I had just run a marathon at my top speed. The white sheets beneath me had darkened with my sweat.
What was that dream? Why did it feel so real?
Was it the Djinn messing with my head? If so, then why did he choose to show me this?
I twisted my body and prepared to roll out of bed, blinking furiously as the sunlight shone off the lake and stabbed at my eyes. I looked at my phone and saw that it was already 10 AM. Touching my Talisman to confirm that it was indeed still there, I got up, yawned and trudged to the bathroom.
After splashing my face with water and quickly brushing my teeth, I hurried downstairs, the smell of eggs and bacon wafting from the kitchen having reinvigorated my tired body. I smiled as I saw Uncle Barney in front of the stove. There was something endearing about watching a big bearded man like him in an apron, sashaying around in the cramped kitchen like he belonged there. Dad was seated at the dining table, slathering jam on his toast.
"Hey there birthday girl." Uncle Barney said in his usual gruff voice.
"Hi." I replied as I slid into a chair next to Dad and wished him a good morning.
"So," I said, drumming my fingers on the table. "How long until breakfast's ready?"
Uncle Barney playfully jabbed his spatula at me. "You must learn to be patient, little dragon. A chef needs time to create the perfect meal."
"Well, in that case," I began, "I'm gonna go outside and have a look around."
"What?" Dad asked, swiveling his neck to look at me. "Why?"
Because I just saw mom in my dream. I didn't tell him that. Bad idea, I know. But I knew that if I had told him he wouldn't let me set foot outside. And I really wanted to. To see the spot where I had imagined the lady standing and screaming the night before. To check and confirm whether the fence was still there. To try and see if my gaze could pierce through the dense woods and spot the grove where Mom… No, I definitely could'nt tell him that. No way.
Dad furrowed his brow. "Okay. But stay on the porch."
I nodded, grabbed a slice of bacon off the plate when Uncle Barney wasn't looking, eating it as I made my way out the front door.
It was bright outside, the sun was sucking away the water that had been clogging the ground. Puddles were drying up, their edges cracking with the heat. Even the stump with the Arabic carving, though soaked to the core, was starting to lose its moisture. The air was warm, fresh and made my skin tingle pleasantly. I grinned, stretched my limbs, gazed at the still-intact fence. And froze when I saw a figure walking next to it.
It was a woman. I narrowed my eyes, shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand and focused. My breath hitched when I saw who it was.
It was Mom.
She was gliding over the grass next to the fence with as much grace as she'd always had. She was glowing, like she was draped in sunlight itself. Her yellow sundress shimmered with each step, her long dark hair bouncing on her shoulders playfully. "Oh my god." I whispered.
She twirled, like a dancer, brushed her hair behind her ear and walked, running her hand over the now dirty white sheets tied to the barbed wire. She was so beautiful, so flush with life, unlike in the dream where she was cold, pale and rotting. Tears pooled in my eyes. "Mom..." I found myself saying.
Her head shot up, almost like she'd heard me. She bent over the wire, squinted, trying to see who it was that had called out to her. I sucked in my breath when she spotted me. She was looking at me, right at me with her honey-brown eyes. A smile danced on her lips, her face relaxing into an expression of such peace it warmed my heart. My mouth dropped open as she brought her arms up in front of her and gestured at me to come to her. It was a sight I was so intimately familiar with. How many times had I gone running into her arms when she'd spread them out like this? How many times had I fallen asleep in there, listening to her whisper sweet nothings into my ear as her warm hand gently patted the back of my head?
My body lurched involuntarily, and I took a step forward. I never even got the chance to say goodbye to her, she was taken from me in such a cruel and abrupt manner. Another step, and I felt the splinters of the wooden steps biting the soles of my feet. There was a voice gnawing at the back of my mind, telling me that this was really dangerous. I ignored it. Another step. Grass tickled my feet as they dug into the soft dirt. It should be fine, I told myself. I'm just trying to get a good look at her. To try and capture her visage with my eyes, sear it into my memory. Permanently. Another step. I was halfway between the house and the fence now. I could practically smell her. Just a little more and I could reach out and touch her too.
Another step. My leg bumped into something. I stumbled, looked down and saw that I had hit the stump. My brain felt fuzzy. Legs wobbling, I flopped down on the stump. What was I doing? This seemed to be quite reckless, didn't it? Was I doing this of my own volition, or was the Djinn dragging me out like the pied piper? I wanted to get close to Mom, but there were alarm bells going off all over my body, rattling my bones, trying to jolt me out of the dream like trance I was in.
I could hear someone calling for me. But it sounded distant, like the voice was dropping down from the top of a tall building. Who was it? Was it Mom? Scalp tingling with sweat, I raised my eyes at her. Her lips were moving, but no sound came out. What?
I felt heavy hands on my shoulders and my heartbeat boomed in my ears. Sound suddenly exploded around me. I hadn't even realised just how silent it had gotten. The chirping of the birds, rustling of leaves, Dad's laboured breathing, all rushed into my ears. All at once. Oh. It was Dad who was standing next to me, his hands wrapped tight around my shoulders. "Ciara. We need to go inside. Now." He looked terrified, shooting glances at Mom out of the corner of his eyes. So he could see her too.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure." I muttered as I took his clammy hand.
Uncle Barney had already laid out the breakfast for us by the time we went back in. "I saw what happened out there. That was really reckless." He said as we sat down at the dining table. Dad cupped his hands on his face and took a couple of very deep breaths.
I didn't say anything, just grabbed a glass of water with my trembling hands and took a sip. It was starting to hit me now, how close I'd gotten to leaving the safety of the fence. Just a few more steps, and… How could I have been so foolish?
"You can't be this careless, Ciara." Uncle Barney admonished me. "The more you let yourself be exposed to the Djinn's hallucinations, the more you become susceptible to them. If you keep on doing this, soon you won't be able to tell the difference between what's real and what's not. You're practically inviting the bastard into your head."
"Yeah. Yeah." I said, my head bowed in guilt.
"It's only a matter of one mistake. One misstep and…"
"Lay off her, Barney." Dad interrupted. "She gets it."
"I'm just looking out for her…"
"You're adding to the stress."
"I'm reminding her of how dangerous the situation is." Uncle Barney insisted.
Dad looked bewildered. "You think she doesn't know that? Goddamn it Barney. She just lost her mother. You really think she wouldn't be affected by it? Even I almost passed out when I saw her out there."
"I know. I know. I'm just…"
"I had a dream last night." I said, and they both immediately fell silent and turned their attention towards me. "Mom was there. In the dream." The words flooded out of my mouth as I rambled on about the horrible nightmare I'd had. Both of them had a deer caught in the headlights look on their faces by the time I finished.
"Woah!" Uncle Barney exclaimed. "It can even invade your dreams?"
Dad's eyes flitted around as he tried to make sense if it all. "The Djinn showed her that nightmare to make her feel despair. To get her at her lowest point. At her most vulnerable. Seeing her mother like that, he knew it would take a toll on her. And so he used that vulnerability against her, showing her what Zoe used to be like in her prime. To get her guard down and have her leave the barrier."
"A carrot and stick approach." Uncle Barney whispered. "Jesus."
He tugged at his beard. Forcefully. "We need to stick together as much as possible."
Dad nodded. "Yeah. I don't know why I let her exit the house alone."
"Another result of the Djinn's machinations?"
"I don't know... What do you think?"
"What I think?" Uncle Barney sighed. "I think we've been severely underestimating what the Djinn is capable of. We need to be more cautious. Way more cautious."
Dad nodded thoughtfully, then focused on me. "Ciara, honey. I'm sorry for saying this again. But please, please be careful."
I answered with an eager nod. But I wish I had told him to listen to his own warnings instead, because if he had, then things wouldn't have gone to absolute hell later that day.
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2020.09.19 09:24 PastelPsyche Mom naked on bed
I'm a 20 years old man, right now I'm in college, and in a not-so-long time ago me and my very first love broke up, we tried to keep being friends, 'cause actually, before being lovers, we were best friends, in all the mean of the word, we spent all the day in our phones texting each other and we were always trying to hang out in the weekends, I swear by God that the very first time I saw him, I just fell in love, I couldn't take my watch apart of his lips and eyes, that being a bit of a problem 'cause he was telling me something and I wasn't paying attention at all, he had this dark tone of skin that I couldn't believe were so precious, dark eyes and black curled hair, even so, his lips were soft pink, and his hands were strong but kind, he could easily knock out anybody in a bad day, but when our hands were together, I couldn't fell less tan protected and secure, he would never fight if it were not strictly necessary. He was the man I thought I would marry, the person that would be with me in the end of our days just waiting along the big finale. But it wasn't like that. We connected so damn deep and fast, we had a lot in common, I swear, in less than a month, I felt like I had find my soulmate already, and he was the same, I still can remember how sad and worried he would get if I didn't reply his messages, and how we got at the point that we could tell by texts if the other was in a bad mood. And I'm sad to remember and admit that I was not a good boyfriend, or at least, not in the end. I have this background history, that made me grow insecure and with a feeling of being a mistake that should never have existed, I was needing to feel loved by him to be happy (first red flag), and I can tell now that it was really toxic, but even this being so, I can't truly blame myself for that, in that moment of my life I was at the edge of the suicide, if he hadn't come in my life right when he did, maybe I wouldn't be alive right now. What it is all it about? I was a introvert bisexual boy, that was mostly into boys, that grew up in a latin, chauvinistic, over-protective and christian family that thought the best way to correct the sons were the blows and the threats, you can guess this doesn't made me grow the best way possible. I knew him because of a friend, and it was so random, he told me, "Hey, this boy looks gay, you should talk with him" and I was like "Ok". Now I can't be more than grateful with that buddy. We started talking, and our history did as well. We were best friends, and then happy boyfriends for two beautiful years, and what can I say? Those years were the happiest of my life. Even though he had spent his puberty and childhood surrounded by love, freedom and security, I had this kind of advantage, that more than advantage, was the only perk I got of my shitty puberty and adolescence, I was already out of the closet with my parents, but don't misunderstand me, I didn't came out because of my courage and resilience, I came out because my parents threatened me to take my computer and hack it to see what I was hiding so passionately, and if you reader want to know, it was several gay fanfics, pines, art and, of course, porn. So I told them what they would find if they do that. And that moment was the beginning of the most wretched, sad and suicidal stage of my life, but at least, I could get some perk of it. I was out, but he wasn't. So we kept our relationship as a secret. And for a time, everything was fine with it, until a bad day, after some kisses and rubs, we decided to lay on the floor of his living room, with my hand over his chest. We didn't heard his mom coming in. I acted like if a was in a dramatic play, and acting like if we were talking about college, he did the same, but obviously, his mom didn't believe us. And since that moment, our relationship as friends and lovers, became more complicated. Now her mother was annoyed with us hanging out, and would give any excuse to avoid him to see me. And it started putting pression over our relationship, and it all started a meltdown with us. I was feeling ignored and even not wanted in his life, even when he was always inviting to his house and park, even church. I started feeling like if he rather me to not be his boyfriend. We broke up several times, 'cause, what can I say? Our chemistry and connection was so damn deep and intense, I guess any of us wished to be apart that much time. But eventually, it all fade out, we both turned eighteen, and although I had no many responsibilities more than school, he did, he started working in the USA, we are both from Mexico, in order to save some money to pay his college, and I was fine with it, 'cause it was perfectly understandable, but the months passed, he came back, we started hanging out again, but something felt missed. He was stressed for many valid reasons, I didn't help pushing him to made our relation "less secret---I was not able to hold his hand, kiss or hug him if we were not absolutely alone, and that started to bother me at some point, 'cause not even by my route, he allowed me to do any of the things I already said, not even 'cause we lived in opposite corners of the city and any of his know people could ever see us---. I still can remember our last good season, it was christmas eve and I had gone to his house secretly from his family who was traveling, we were having a lovely meeting, seeing Steven Universe's episodes on YouTube, hugging and kissing. I though that would be our first time, we were heading directly into that direction, until his aunt arrive at the house and ruined everything. She didn't see us naked, but the fact my ex had lied to his parents was enough to ruin all the rest of the day. Obviously, she told his mom and dad, and got him in trouble, At some point, we decided to finally broke up by the good of both us. He went to work in the USA again to save more money, but anything was the same, he never came back, or at least, not with me, I didn't see him in months and the only day he got in the city we couldn't see because it was, again, christmas eve, and he was with his family. Next day he would be taking a bus to a southern city of our state for college. That would be the last chance I could ever have to see him, I could just not accept that, so I convinced him to let me go with him to the bus station, he agreed. I woke up super early and got everything ready so I could be in the bus station at 8 a.m. and then, right in front of the box-office, I saw him again, backwards, wearing a grey and yellow hoddie with blue jeans and sneakers, I went in his direction, I couldn't believe it was real, I was really nervous and I was shaking a little. I touched his should and he turned around. He smiled and say hi, he was surprised and happy, he told me he didn't though I would make it. I really didn't care about anything he said, I was just so happy to be with him, side by side, and talking face to face, I was so overjoyed to be able to see his face again that he could have been screaming to me and I wouldn't mind at all. That least until he ask me to help him with his suitcases and I saw his family had accompanied him too. My smile just faded and I put on a fake one to his parents and sister. I was so frustrated, I had done all this trip just to be able to be with him one last time, to hug him, and maybe to kiss him, but now all that would never happen. He took the bus, and all we four said bye while the machine was getting away from our sight. I can remember his dad asking me after he was already gone "Why didn't you come to visit him as before?". I got so mad with him, how could he be so cynical and ask me something like that? He perfectly knew the answer already, "It was because of you two who made him wish to run from me, assholes" was my thought, but I didn't say anything, I just said bye to them and went to my car, leaving the bus station happy, sad and frustrated, wishing his parents to be others or him to come back to me. I cried all the way to my house. Time went off and we tried to kept contact, but it was getting harder and more forced every time, so we just stopped. One of the last things I knew from him was that he had gotten a girlfriend, I knew he was bi as well, but hearing that really hurt me, mostly because he got her in one month, when our relationship took one year and a half to take place in, I just didn't thought it was fair to someone else to get his attention so easy when it was so hard for me. But I guess couldn't say anything, after all, in some point of our dying relationship, he said he could never love me. That he cared about me a lot, but that love, romantic love, he couldn't feel it towards me. I guess I couldn't blame him, 'cause even a few months ago, I wasn't well mental or emotionally, and it was hard to love me. We lost contact for some time, with sporadic talks here and there, until this thing of COVID-19 ruled the world and made us stay in our homes and cancel face-to-face classes. He told me by messenger that he had returned to the city earlier than planned because of the lock down and college going online, he didn't need to be in other city anymore. I got so excited, I thought we would be hanging out again and that we could reconnect, but that never happened. I told him ho much I was wanting to hang out again with him, we made a plan for the weekend, but he canceled it. And I wait, one week, and other, and two more, but he never told a word about the time again. We talked, about some things I has and was going through (I was bad again) and I couldn't feel but happy to at least fell that he still cares about me. That last time he cancelled our plans, I was planning to tell him all the things I still feel for him, the good and the bad, and believe, there was a lot of both, but as I couldn't, I told him all of it by message. I ask him if he was free for some awkward and intense talk, and he said yes (a very good ex if you ask me), and it happened, I asked all my doubts and said all my feelings, I even ask him to one last try for us, but he said no. I told him I loved him. I told him I hated him. And that was all for us. I touched rock bottom that day, and many others, before and after that day. The thing that hurt me the most about that last conversation was that he was all over it, he didn't care about it, or at least, not as I want him to care, he was like a third person listening my story, not one of the main characters in it, he was so distant and indifferent at some points, he said he want me to get better but the only thing I was wanting that night was he crying or at least feeling something bad, or FEEL SOMETHING. I'm specially mad with me because I was to coward to say come things as I actually wanted to say them. I told him "I hate you a little". I don't hate him a little, I hate him a LOT, and I want him to suffer many pain in this life since now and until the day of his death. But I also love him, and hi to be very happy and get everything he wants in this life, even if it is not with me in it. I hate him because I love him, and that makes me hate him even more. But now I'm treating the theme with my therapists, and now I can finally reach the part where I can tell you how to move on your broken hearth, on the love of your life, although I'm still doing it.
2020.09.18 21:29 anonymous4939 Mom naked on bed
I just read a news about a couple getting their marriage annulled because the guy is impotent and thought, yeah, I want an impotent husband so I can get married and maybe have a family yet don't need to have sex or be expected to have sex...
And here I am, thinking, wow... am I? Am I not? I don't know.... But I'd like to know more....
Sigh... I don't know how to deal with this, I am having trouble processing... Sorry if this post is not in compliance as I haven't finished reading everything yet.. Just... Need an outlet...
So, I guess, let me start by saying, asexuality is simply not in my vocabulary until 2 years ago. And my immediate response at the time was: No, no way. I had 2 crushes for so long, I am definitely 100% not asexual. But... The more I thought about it, the more it kinda made sense.... The 2 crushes I feel I had, one was like grade 5 to 7, it was that person who said "I like you", and I was like, he likes me, I should like him back.
And the second person is even weirder. I claim to have feelings for him for years (grade 8 to university), and I think I do, yet... Never have I once feel like I want to sleep with him. And I distinctly remember questioning myself, why haven't I fantasized having sex with him yet??? So I basically forced myself to picture him naked (sorry dude), and it just... Kind of felt wrong, just didn't feel much, other than "that's a bit weird"... Back then, I chucked it to, too young to do it... And I also distinctly remember questioning myself, why do I not miss him or want to see him when we are not seeing each other. When we don't see each other, I just like to do other things... And only when we meet, my heart races and I do feel something, so maybe I do like him.
Then came the time where I found out that he is a jackass. I basically forbade myself from thinking or liking him, and yes, apparently, I can do that. Since then, I have not found anybody attractive since... And not felt a crush since then either.
Some background of me is that I am an immigrant from Asia. So, Asian parents are like very very conservative people. They love you, but they expect you to behave in certain ways. And mostly, they want you to have a successful career that involves high levels of education and a traditional family. (3 important details because of said background. 1. immigrant experience has made me love books more than anything. 2. pleasing my parents are more or less instilled in me... 3. I studied medical related applied science, not a doctor or a nurse though!!)
The reason I bring this up is because ever since I started reading novels, I've always felt that fictional characters are just way way way better than real life people. The good things is, I vowed to be a better person because of fictional characters. And the bad thing is, I've always felt that fictional character has made me have un-realistic expectations of my future partners or made me increasingly insecure because the thing I see and the news I read are just basically pushing 1 idea: relationships are hard to last. I kid you not, in my culture, most people find it normal for guys to cheat on wife, and think as long as wife is still wife, the guy is still a good husband. And the usual perception is, if guy cheat, it's the wife's fault for not making him happy, and wife usually should forgive him. Because guys are guys (I'm not saying all guys are like that, but... That's kind of the general culture there). I mean, this is unfathomable to me, and even though my parents and a lot of other people don't really agree with that, but most of my culture kind of does, which means, most of the people I meet that is of the same culture might think it's okay to cheat as long as they don't divorce or let wife find out.
To make matters worse, I developed panic attacks since I was in university. And I studied medical related applied science, so I know what STDs are like, and I know what harm they can cause. Especially for women. The thought of being given STDs make me so nervous that I just want to curl up in my bed and watch big bang theory over and over to forget.
Because of all the above mentioned issue combining, I am very very very nervous already about the idea of being in a relationship. And here is why I am not sure if I am asexual or not. Because the primary fear of being in a relationship for me right now is the other person cheats on me and give me STDs... And because of that, I was thinking, okay, maybe I should try to find a girlfriend instead? (I mean the STDs are less likely to be transmitted if we both do not exchange any fluids?? That was my logic, not necessarily the truth..) So I even researched on how to be lesbian, and see if sexual encounters during lesbian setting is any better. The search result shows that it's probably not.... And on top of that, women cheats too, it's not like women are perfect either.
I procrastinate a lot... So at this point, I was so tired of this, and just kind of gave up, I've kind of just accepted the fate that one day, I probably will get married to someone who's not a bad person and I will just ask them to tell me if they've cheated or not, and have them and me take regular testings. (Or you know, find an impotent husband so there is no sexual contact in question.) I agreed with my parents, and allowed them to try to set me up with people.
Yes, that's a thing. Feel like you guys will totally know where I came from now lol. And yes, for me, no marriage is kind of not an option here.... I feel like my family would probably even eventually accept me if I'm homosexual, but they are pretty adamant for me to find a person to share my life with, mainly, to have family and kids. I've thrown in "I don't want to get married" or "I don't want to have kids" here and there for a bit. And response is, mom crying... Basically saying that who is going to take care of me when I'm old and alone, and who's going to bury me when I die.
I don't disagree with finding the person, I just... Never really felt that click or chemistry or whatever you want to call it. And I always felt intense relief when I don't have to go on dates and such.
I met a few people here and there. I'm not opposed of the idea of touching or anything, I also do feel desire, but I never understood why people think they have to have sex to relieve themselves of desire. And I don't know why, I just never really felt racing hearts and butterflies towards a person in my normal life. All I can feel is: troubling, anxiety and down right repulsion.
Now, I am almost 28. Never had sex with anybody, never been in long term relationship (and by that, I mean, I did date a few people here and there, but none of the date even past like.. 5 dates?? the most I have experienced is that kiss), and never just thought, hmm, he/she is so cool, I'd want to sleep with this person. It's more like, maybe I should just get it over with and have sex at least once so I can get my pap smear? Or, maybe I should have sex, because that's what people do??
And now, I'm starting to wonder... Did my insecurity caused my asexuality which then technically would fall under mental issue that can be fixed which means not actually asexual (But I don't plan on treating it, because I really don't feel like it has interfered my life in any way, so does that really matter, because end result seems to be the same). Or I am just asexual finding a perfect excuse to not have sex with people?? I really don't know... And I don't even know where to start finding these answers... because as much as I am reading asexual and sexual attraction, I am having a hard time grasping it.... And I absolutely don't know how to find a way to satisfy my parents idea of finding a person to share my life with (which I am not objecting) but still get around "having sex" and "having kids".
OMG... Wow... Felt much better now. This is long rant... I'll figure it out eventually. I just... I don't want to talk to my friends about this, nor do I have the option of talking with my parents.. So, this is nice. Thanks.
submitted by anonymous4939 to asexuality [link] [comments]
2020.09.18 15:22 Throwawaytoohard_18 Naked mom on bed
Hey guys, I'm 18, male and will be going to college in a few months. I live with my dad and step mom, both 47. I love them to death. My bio mom has always been very toxic, but that's beside the point.
There is something I've been struggling with for years. I love my step mom as mother. I have a lot of respect for her and have never hesitated to defend her when my bio mom and her family would spread lies about her. On the other hand, I'm sexually attracted to her.
She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and has a great body. She's also smart and very loving. She's almost perfect and I want her. I want her in my arms, naked on my bed. I want my cock inside her, taking her, showing her just how much I need her. I often listen to her and my dad having sex. I jerk off to the sounds of her moaning and screaming as my dad gets to enjoy her in a way that I never will. (For more gory details, just go to my post history)
But I will NEVER, EVER act on these fantasies. They will always remain in my heart because I never want to lose my step mom as a mother and because my dad is my best friend and I would never make a move on his woman. Even if I did, step mom would never cheat on him. She loves him and will never betray him. Unfortunately, her loyalty to my dad just makes me want her even more.
In a few months I'll be off to college and hopefully some distance from her will help me overcome this obsession. My dad is my idol and I've always wanted to be just like him. Maybe that means wanting a woman like his (?)
I just want to know if this sort of thing is normal, or if there's something seriously wrong with me. Is anyone else going through this or has experienced something like this?
submitted by Throwawaytoohard_18 to OneY [link] [comments]
2020.09.18 09:48 fetthemlig Mom naked on bed
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squirting squirting_gifs squirtingvideos ssbbw StaceyPoole_ StaciCarr StaciSilverstone Stacked starwarsnsfw STAWG StealthVibes stepSIS stickyfaces stonerboner STPeach StraightGirlsPlaying StrainedButtons StreamersGoneWild stripgirls StripHer Strippersonthejob StruggleFucking StrugglePorn StruggleVids StuckPorn Stuffers StuffersGoneWild stupidslutsclub submissivemen SubSanctuary Subwife SuckingItDry suctiondildos suicidegirls SummerBrielle SummerGirls summerscents SummertimeGirls SummertimeSaga Sundresses superheroinesdefeated superheroporn Surprised_Pornstars SweaterGirls sweatermeat SweatyGirls_NSFW sweatysex SweNsfw swimsuits SwingCommunity SwingersEngland Swingersgw swingersr4r sybian SydneySweeney SyrenDeMer
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2020.09.18 02:41 ChloeDabedoub Bed naked on mom
The attic was musty and old, filled with cobwebs, and coated in dust. It was a very short, cramped room and I had to crouch and walk awkwardly to get anywhere. I slapped my hand down on a spider that ran across my bare toes. Flip flops were not a good footwear option. I dragged myself over to the last box left to clear out labeled "Annie's Stuff". Annie is my younger sister by about 7 years. She was born about 2 years before our parent's divorce and was always the only one to go and visit our mother. I preferred to stay with our dad because of the house my mom owned. Every time I went over, I never felt safe and I always felt like I was being watched. During the 13 years before I moved away from Maine, I only visited my mother 4 times while my sister went every other week.
I pulled the box close to me and sat down with my legs crossed over each other. There wasn't much in it, just a bunch of old stuffed animals, some small items of clothing, and two or three toys. All of it could be donated or thrown away. As I dug through everything, however, I found an old, yellowed paper at the bottom scribbled all over with green crayon. It was Annie's writing, obviously from when she was young. There were a lot of spelling errors and stuff but I could make out what it said. At the top, it said "Rules for Staying with Mommy". I guess this was just one of those stupid little things kids right to entertain themselves but I sat back anyway to read it.
2020.09.17 16:19 blue_skies112 caught my mom cheating
So my dad works in China, and my mom works at Singapore (thats where we live in). I live with my mom, brother and helpers. Im 14, in secondary school. About two hours ago, my moms friend (male) entered the house to have a drink. My mom asked me to go to my room (3rd floor) and so i did. 2 hours later, i was hungry and went down to get some food. Thats when i noticed that the drinks were on the table, my moms car was still outside and over details pointing to the fact that my mom was still here. So i went to my moms room, and when going up i imagined the worst things possible. I do this all the time, but this time it happened. I entered the room and my mom and her friend were naked on the bed, i dont know if they saw me or not as i opened and closed the door fast, but the lights were on. I have exams in a week and im freaking out now as this happened 10 minutes from when i started typing this, and im feeling super stressed about what to do. Im about to have a mental breakdown, Does anyone know whats the best thing to to do? I am very scared as my brother doesnt care about what goes on (just plays in his room all day). Any Advice is appreciated.
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2020.09.17 15:53 LePoggerMan The "jeremy saga" Alinity story from the "tf2 gaming" Discord server.
W i cannot expalin how much i really love alinity on twich. alanity is so fucking hot and i really wanna do the sex with her even tho she said she has a boyfriend winkwinkstuck_out_tongue_winking_eyestuck_out_tongue_winking_eyewinkstuck_out_tongue_winking_eye... so also my name is jeremy btw and i also love anime girls and everyone says i need to get a life, but all i need is alinity and anime. anime girls are the only people who car about me anymore after my mom told me that it's been 14 years since i turned 18 and that if im not out of the basement she wil call people but i still love my mom becaus she make me chicken tendies every nigt and she give me my fav soda too kissing_heart yumsmilegrinsweat_smilejoy so anyway i m also into collecting figurine of my favorite anime girls they cost $300 but i dk becase i love them and if i love them enought they will love me back. i really just wanna have ses to be honest and this one time when my mom was feedin me diner she touched my crotc by accident and i got hard flushedflushedzany_face so anyway i really love my life and im gonna liv with my mom forever and keep using my $11 an hour walmar salary to finish my anime colection also im gonna ask aliniy out tomorrowhot_facepartying_face i will post agin tomorow with update to see if she saud yes!1!1! centipedecrippler07/14/2020 GUYS I AM NOT HAPY RNragerageragerage i jus asked alanity out and she said NO and i told her to go fuc hersel because i spen all my life savings on her and she said she has boyfeind and that is NOt okay. also my mom decided to call these people and they removed me from my mom but i won let them so i bit them and they gave me a shock and then i woke up and i am now in car they said im headin to a "custody fasility" so but i won let them flushedflushedsmiling_impsmiling_imp so anyway i ran but i didn get far because i am 217 libs and they said i am now gong to jail and my mom is now here and she is crying and the police man told me that i have interne acess for 7 days befor i go to my sell. i decided to pos t this but i am not happy becus my anime figereens are at my hos and the said they are gone buti spent $1200 in total and now i hav no job :((( so anyway i wil post tomorow for updayte ok guys it is now day 2 in the hoding sell and i hav 6 days of inernet left so i got aliniteis email and i donloaded this mail spam bot and i made sure to spam her email with my love letters. howeber this computer is "restrited" and i cant use emojies or run files that arent in a special folder so now the spam nbot wont run and i am not okay. howevr i rememer from my house that i wached a video on how to find pepels ip adress so i did tht=at on alinitys stream and i found her ip :)) so now i just hav to bust out of prisn and fin alitity's house and have sesx wth her. i wil updat tomorow ok guys so i didnt need to break out of jail becuz my mom missed me so much she balled me out of jail and i am now livin in my moms basement again back with my anime figureens however i los my job at walmar but that is not important right now because righ now i am going to hun down alinit because now i hav her ip adress and i am going to use this websit to find her hous adress and i will go and sex her. flushedflushedstuck_out_tongue_winking_eyewinksmiling_imp. i am sorry mom becaus i am planningon leaving tonit after you fead me my chicken tendies and soda. i am going to pack my miku bag my mom bought me and im gonna put a gun i found inthe basement into the bag to make alinit sex me. i am alsp going to bring my anime figurines so i can finaly move in with alinity and we wil be happy. i am scare that my mom wil find out so i am going to smash my computer and kil my mom tonig. cry i am sory mom i lov you but im gona have to do tis so i can liv with alinity in pease. i will pos t tomorow when i find a compute to use. alright guys im literaly shaking right now an i am scared but escited at the same time. i decided to take my laptop with me insteead of smashing it because i love my laptop it has my anime girls on it and i can lever leave those. so anyway i am kinda sad because it was 11 pm last night when i finall decided to do it. i packed my bag with gun and laptop and figurines. at 1am i walked into kitchen and got knife. i slowly walked into bedroom an i saw my mom sleeping alone. it was pefect to do it. so i wen downstairs and i called my mom. sje woke up and came down stairs and as she tuned corner into the kitchen i took knife and i put it into her belly. as i felt it go in, the blood rushed down my hands and i let go of the knif. she fell to the ground, screaming for a few seconds. this was bad because scream was loud so i took knife and i put it again in her stomac. she stopped screaming, and all i heard was soft, breathing motions, and sobbing. she looked at me as her teers and blood was covering her face and she said i love you no matter what you do as she slowly started to breath slower this sensation rushed over me. my head was spinning around and around and i was sad becaus i lost the only person who loves me but i will have alinity so its ok. blood was going everywhere and soakin making a little pool. she was just sitting there softly sobbing and choking on her own tears and blood. i deciced to end her crying and i took knife and put it in her throat. she grabbed it, hard at first, like a jump kind of motion. then the sobbing stopped and her eyes went a weird color. i took knife and put it in my bag and i left the house, with my black church shoes covered in blood. my socks were bloody as well. i left the house, and i am now typing in a field by my house. it's 5 am now and i am going to go find alinity house before the police come. when i first stabbed her, i felt a really weird sensation like i didn't know what was going on around me. anyway i wil post tomorow agin alright guys so i fell asleep in the field but lukily nobody found me yet. i slept from 5 am to 9 am and i cheked my laptop for the time and then i started my travel. i used google maps to download instructioms to my laptop. my dick was throbbing with the single thout of putting my peis inside of alinit. so anyway i walked to the airport. i stole my moms credit card to pay for plane tickets. i walked into the airport, and i boarded the plane to the state where alininity lives. I couldn't stop thinking about alinity when i was on the plane. 4 hours later, we arrived. i got off, and i walked to alinity's house. it was a 6 hour walk, and i was extremely tired. however, i finally made it. it was 1 am in the morning when i arrived, so i went in her backyard, and i slept under her patio until morning. i will make part 7 tomorrow. alright guys so i fell asleep in the field but lukily nobody found me yet. i slept from 5 am to 9 am and i cheked my laptop for the time and then i started my travel. i used google maps to download instructioms to my laptop. my dick was throbbing with the single thout of putting my peis inside of alinit. so anyway i walked to the airport. i stole my moms credit card to pay for plane tickets. i walked into the airport, and i boarded the plane to the state where alininity lives. I couldn't stop thinking about alinity when i was on the plane. 4 hours later, we arrived. i got off, and i walked to alinity's house. it was a 6 hour walk, and i was extremely tired. however, i finally made it. it was 1 am in the morning when i arrived, so i went in her backyard, and i slept under her patio until morning. i will make part 7 tomorrow. i woke up at 10 in the morning. i knew alinity was awake. i couldn't contain myself anymore. so many feelings were hitting me at once. I wanted to just curl into a fetal position and cry about killing my mom, and leaving my life behind. I also just wanted to take the gun out, kick open the door, and kill alinity's boyfriend. i thought about my actions, and just kinda stared into space for 2 hours. I had finally decided what needed to be done. I took the gun out, and i wasn't going to mess around. alinity's boyfriend has to die. The house has a sliding glass back door, which i just fucking smacked with the gun handle until it broke. I barged my entire body into the glass, cutting myself all over. I didn't care. By now alinity's boyfriend gets up to see the noise, and as soon as I see him, i lift up my gun, and I pull the trigger. I hear 2 screams. I pull it again. And again. The flash of the barrel blinds and disorients me for a few seconds, and i lift my head up to see a horrified man spurting with blood all over the floor. I walk into the house, and her boyfriend puts his arm up as he gasps for air. I gaze at him, and without even getting any feelings of regret or remorse. I stomp on his throat. I stomp again, and this time, i hear a slight crunchy-pop sound, and his entire mouth vomits out blood. His entire face is caked in blood, and he's finally dead. I walk into alinity's room, where she is frantically picking up her phone. I pull the gun, and tell her to drop the phone or she gets shot. She drops it on the floor, I pick it up, and I make sure the police was not called yet. I throw the phone to the side, and keep the gun on alinity. "My queen, my love" I said. I told her that I am here to take the place of her boyfriend, and when this is all over, we can live together. She is in shock for around a minute and a half. We just stand there, looking at eachother. All of the sudden, she makes a dash past me, towards the door. I won't let her get away. Not this time. I wouldn't let alinity get away. Not when she's so close to my grasp. Without really thinking, I took the gun, spun around, and shot alinity in the back right as she was running through the door. I didn't think about why I did it, it was almost like an instinct. As soon as i had realised what I had just done, I got dizzy. I didn't know if she was dead, or if I hurt her badly. Whenever I pull the trigger, I get the same feeling. It's not easy to describe. It's the equivalent of a fear orgasm. You're scared for yourself, and what you had just done. It's also a rush of sensations, some good, some bad. Anyway, I'm getting off-track. So, I shot alinity as she was running through the broken glass door. Her body fell, almost immediately, and she was covered in class shards, and deep gashes from falling on glass. I couldn't let alinity die. She was so much in pain that she didn't scream, it was just a muffled "MMMMM" more than a scream. I picked her up, and laid her on the couch. "You'll be safe, my dear." I said. I went into the bathroom, and turned the hot water handle on. I tended to alinity as the water filled up the bathtub. When it was full, I picked alinity up, because she was unable to move. I picked her up, and placed her into the bathtub. As soon as she went in, the water immediately turned light red from all the blood in the water. I couldn't possibly make love with alinity when she is in such pain. I have to wash the blood off and make her better. In order for me to get a look at the wounds, I had to take off all of her clothes. I used a knife, and i cut down the middle of each piece of clothing. I started to get a little erection as I was doing it. I took her pants off, and now I had to do the underwear and the bra. I cut the bra off in the middle as well, same with the underwear. There she was. Her tits were jiggling in the water, and glistening. She was dying, and still maintained to be beautiful. But now isn't the time for this. I have to get her cleaned. I felt like I was going to vomit. I had just killed alinity. I didn't want this to happen, I just wanted to have sex with her, and we would live together forever. But it's too late now. She's dead. I killed her. I got the same funny feeling as last time, but it was a little different. I had felt like I had enjoyed killing alinity. When I first killed my mom, I was horrified. The act of killing her didn't even phase me. But that's the past. I'm not leaving without having sex with alinity. I dragged her bloody, tortured body out of the water. She has a huge washcloth in her throat, and I wanted the sex to be as pleasurable as possible. I cut her throat open, and ripped the washcloth out. I laid her lifeless body on the ground, and I stipped naked. My penis was drooling with precum. I started to rub her cold, dead pussy, as I put my penis inside her. I didn't want to look at her, because the look of dead alinity would turn me off. This is the first time I have ever had my penis inside a pussy. I rubbed her tits, and I felt her pussy grab my cock and massage it in and out. I was having such a good experience. I started to suck her tits, and I rode her for about 3 minutes before I blew my fat load of sperm inside her pussy. I felt my load filling up her hole, and I pulled out with a totally white caked penis. I cleaned her pussy up, and I drained the bathwater to take a shower and wash my cum off. Later that night, I took alinity into her bed, and I slept with her for the night. I woke up tomorrow morning. I felt disgusting. I had enjoyed each and every minute of killing alinity and her boyfriend. My plan was to leave no evidence, go to alinity's house, and have sex with her. I accomplished my goal. But did I really accomplish anything? I had killed my mom, who had loved me. The only reason she called those people was because she cared for my health, and wanted me to live my own life. But I ended her life instead. I thought I was doing a good deed by killing alinity's boyfriend, but in reality, I had just ruined the lives of 2 happy people, living their life. I ruined 3 people's lives. I had enjoyed ruining 2 of them. I'm the horrible human being here. All i wanted was to have sex with alinity, and I ruined people's lives to get there. My mom is rotting at home with a knife in her neck. Alinity's boyfriend is dead, with his face turned purple-red, covered in blood. Alinity is mutilated, in bed. I ruined 3 people's lives, and the only way to make up for it is to end my own. This will be the final blog I'm going to make. When I close this laptop, I plan to take the same gun I had killed 2 people with, and end myself with it. The world will be better without me. I had already chopped off my penis this morning, in revenge for alinity, who i had violated and destroyed. Goodbye. I'm going to end my miserable life, and scatter my brains over alinity's wall. Once again, this is my final message. Goodbye.
submitted by LePoggerMan to copypasta [link] [comments]
2020.09.17 03:45 Funkensmory I saw her on my dreams
This is my first post on Reddit, I want to apologize for my bad english and amateur mistakes I may commit.
Background: In Mexico there's a huge cult and dare I say religion to the Grim Reaper (yes people love death) and this religion is more noticeable in small towns like the one I live in.
One day scrolling Facebook I came across some strange posts about people praising Grim Reaper and honestly I was laughing to them because of the bad edited photos and bad grammar. So I just kept scrolling like nothing happened.
Later that day, I went to bed early and fell asleep pretty fast and I started dreaming my whole house, for some reason I was trying to summon the Grim Reaper. Y'all remember Charlie Charlie? Something similar but instead of the paper sheet and the pencils all you had to do was record a mirror and Grim Reaper will appear behind you but it's only visible through the screen of the phone you're recording with.
Anyways I finally managed to summon Grim Reaper and I was thinking "I'm gonna be so famous" but I moved my phone too fast and pointed the camera to the wall on the side, when I record the mirror again it wasn't behind me, this time it was in front of the screen sorta like a 2008 screamer. I woke up so scared and I saw Grim Reaper opening the door of my room, my window was open so a lot of cold wind was blowing and adding goosebumps to my body.
This time I actually woke up only to find the door open, the curtains moving like crazy and a lot of cold air invading my whole room. I got out of the bed immediately and asked my mom if I could sleep with her.
TLDR? Had a nightmare about Grim Reaper almost taking me to hell because I made fun of his subordinates.
Details: It was a tall skinny pale old woman with short black hair, and she was naked.
submitted by Funkensmory to Paranormal [link] [comments]
2020.09.17 01:52 newprofilewhodis1352 Mom naked on bed
Obligatory “this was actually a few months ago” (I may have mentioned it on sextoys)
A few months ago I was bored in quarantine, and I decided to order kegel balls. They weren’t this exact set, but they were very similar—the balls themselves fit into silicone mold/string and are shoved up the vagina. They can increase pleasure, teach the vagina muscles to obtain better orgasms by doing levels with them, blah blah. I grew up way too religious so I am, at almost 25, experimenting with a bunch of toys all by myself.
Usually i would attach the ball to the string and shove one or two up there for a few hours, do some kegel a and enjoy the feeling. So I inserted the largest, heaviest one after a few uses and kept it in for a while.
After an hour or two I decided to pay my aunt a visit, so I attempted to remove the ball by pulling the string and giving a little push. Only the string came out... my WAP (lol) had slicked the ball up enough for it to come out of the string holder thing.
I immediately panicked a bit, but told myself “it’s a vagina, fingers can go up there, I’ll get it later” and visited my aunt, whom I told and who laughed and said it’ll be no big deal. She mentioned something about her once getting a tampon stuck, and the dr calling her vagina “longer than average”. I laughed and we talked about other stuff.
A few hours pass and I get home. I laid in bed, shoved a finger up there and pushed a little. I couldn’t feel it. Whatsoever. I start panicking and grab more lube. I didn’t know the actual shape of my vagina until this fateful day. I mean, it goes back a little towards your back/butt, and there’s a strong muscly bit... but I’ve never been so far up there with fingers.
Here I am, freaking out: I CANNOT FEEL IT. Not with the tip of my fingers. I got naked, fetal position with my feet on the ground, as if I needed to shit in the wild. I went from one finger to two, up to my damn knuckle. I finally figured out the shape a bit, so I was able to finally touch the tip of the ball but I couldn’t get even a slight grip. I was just poking the ball. It’s like my vagina had sucked it up as far as possible, like a vacuum.
I find an idea—maybe a spoon could “scoop it”! So I got a large tablespoon and doused it in lube. I went ladling at least half a dozen times to no avail. I don’t know what I did with the pussy spoon but I’m pretty sure it’s in my bathroom on a shelf, covered in lube and lady juices.
It was 45 minutes of fingering and spooning myself. It just was not possible. At all. I called urgent care and shyly asked if they had speculums. She said immediately “oh did you get something stuck up there?” Um yes ma’am, yes I did.
Another half hour and I was lying on the table. Doctor needed a speculum of course and also a forceps because her fingers weren’t getting the gooey silicone ball, either. Soon enough it was out, they put the ball in a cup and a biohazard bag. “Want the ball?!” I guess so? As a token? I’m terrified of it now but it was sorta expensive?
Doctor told me straight up “yeah it was as far up as it could be and tucked to the side to your cervix. Also, I’m pretty sure you have an unusually long vagina. you wouldn’t have gotten it.”
Ah, that’s it; I’ve got a long vagina. Jesus Christ. I’ve inherited the family long vagina. Wonder if my moms vagina is also long.
I’ve told people this story and some don’t believe it’s possible somehow, but my unusually long vagina kind of covers it. Yes, it’s possible to not be able to fish out your toy, I guess.
tl;dr got a kegel ball stuck inside me because my Hoover vagina vacuumed it up; learned my canal is longer than the Amazon
submitted by newprofilewhodis1352 to tifu [link] [comments]
2020.09.16 17:32 RamboRobertsons20 Karen and the policy of Kindness
I worked in a privately owned Hotel in Las Vegas, NV about 5 years back. Not on the strip but a nicely maintained building. As everyone here likely knows, we get ALL forms of customers. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly..ALL..
Our Owner Paul (fake name) lived on site in a Suite up on the top Floor. Although he lived in the Hotel he wasn't a very Hands on type of guy. He just liked to watch over the business he built. He had 1 rule: Treat the Policy book as our Boss. For any question, any change, check the Policy. He used to say: For every situation check the policy and kill them with Kindness.
So, on to the story. The hotel had a page on a worldwide travel website that offered a few deals. Such as if you book 2 weeks in advance we gave 10% off. If you booked 1 month in advance you'd get 15% off.
Back in 2015 ( don't remember which month) there was a gaming championship with Blizzard gaming. Many of the cheaper non strip hotels were booked full, us included.
Enter Karen and her embarrassed son..
Me: Welcome to (non-strip Hotel), how can I....
Karen cutting me off...
Karen: I need a room with 2 queen sized beds. I need full amenities, menu, high speed wi-fi and Laundry services..
Me: (waiting to get my words out) Do you have a reservation with us ma'am? What is the name under?
Karen: I don't have a reservation but I saw online that you have rooms available at 10% off.
Me: I'm sorry Ma'am, we are fully booked currently. If you would like I can take your name and number in case...(cut off again?
Karen: Don't lie to me, I know you have rooms available. It says so on this website. ( pulls out her phone to show me a screenshot taken a week prior of rooms available).
Me: I'm sorry Ma'am this is a picture of our availability last week. Our site updates each time a room is booked and if you check our website currently it will show "No rooms available ". (Pulling up the site on my computer and swiveling it to her view).
Karen: This is absolutely ridiculous. I have the picture showing you right here ( not hearing i word I said)..
Now before Karen was about to start the usually Karen spiel..
Embarrassed son: Mom he said there aren't any rooms available. OP are you able to check other hotels?
Me: Yes, of course, I'd be glad to help find rooms at other Hotels for you. ( I'm honestly still astounded how polite her boy was compared to how she was acting.)
Karen: (apparently not willing to wait) I need to speak to your manager about your inability to accommodate us.
Me: Ma'am I'm currently in charge of the hotel. I am trying to help you the best I can while following our policy standards for service.
Owner: Hearing the yelling while coming from the pool area.. lays his towel over one of the lounge couches and proceeds to watch the show in his half naked Speedo glory.
Karen now seeing him walk in with his half naked glory, makes her glow Red. I can see what is about to come.. Her son also sees the signs and starts to take a few steps back.. I can see he has seen this before...
Karen: HOW DARE YOU ALLOW NUDISTS INTO THIS HOTEL! I WILL BE CALLING THE HEALTH DEPT AND THE MEDIA TO SHOW HOW DISGUSTING THIS HOTEL IS..!!
Owner: Stares at Karen with a frown.. stands up, walks away..
Me: Ma'am, please keep your voice down. We have other guests here and would like to maintain a stress free environment for all customers. (I'm trying very hard not to blow my own lid right now). If you continue shouting you'll be asked to leave.
Her embarrassed son has now vanished back to their sedan. I can only assume he knows it isn't over yet.
Karen continues to scream and shout about every complaint under the sun she can muster ( I honestly have forgotten most of what she has said)
Two Police officers walk in (one seems to be in training and says nothing almost the entire time).
P1: We got a trespassing call from this address.
Karen: YOU CALLED THE COPS!?? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS HOTEL? I JUST WANTED A ROOM FOR MY SON AND I, HOW HARD IS THAT?
Me: I didn't call the Police. Officers may I ask who called?
P1: after a quick dispatch call Owner called it in.
Owner walks in.. In his expensive suit. (Strangely as if he was waiting for the perfect time to stroll in)
Owner: I called after this woman started screaming about me being a Nudist in a speedo in my own hotel. You're welcome to check the cctv with audio if you'd like officers.
Karens mouth drops open and her face turns white.. She knows she has lost. Without another word she walks out of the Hotel.
Now while this is going on I am still looking up different hotels and have had a bit of luck. I printed out a room reservation at a hotel not 10 mins away and ran out in time to hand it to her son.
Very embarrassed son: Thank you very much OP. I'm sorry you had to go through that.
His mother doesn't say a word nor does she look in my direction. Doors closes and she drives off.
A few days later my owner received an edibles fruit basket with an apology from the mother. I didn't get to read it, i was just informed it was an apology.
I'm writing this now because I heard from an old co-worker that the owner recently died from increased complications with Lung cancer due to COVID. (He smoked a large amount in his 20's)
Edit2: Edibles are a form of gummy candy.
submitted by RamboRobertsons20 to TalesFromTheFrontDesk [link] [comments]
2020.09.16 17:11 DamnDam Mom naked on bed
If it is all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly.
You don’t know me, but you’ve been inside me, and that’s why we’re here today.
On January 17th, 2015, it was a quiet Saturday night at home. My dad made some dinner and I sat at the table with my younger sister who was visiting for the weekend. I was working full time and it was approaching my bed time. I planned to stay at home by myself, watch some TV and read, while she went to a party with her friends. Then, I decided it was my only night with her, I had nothing better to do, so why not, there’s a dumb party ten minutes from my house, I would go, dance weird like a fool, and embarrass my younger sister. On the way there, I joked that undergrad guys would have braces. My sister teased me for wearing a beige cardigan to a frat party like a librarian. I called myself “big mama”, because I knew I’d be the oldest one there. I made silly faces, let my guard down, and drank liquor too fast not factoring in that my tolerance had significantly lowered since college.
The next thing I remember I was in a gurney in a hallway. I had dried blood and bandages on the backs of my hands and elbow. I thought maybe I had fallen and was in an admin office on campus. I was very calm and wondering where my sister was. A deputy explained I had been assaulted. I still remained calm, assured he was speaking to the wrong person. I knew no one at this party. When I was finally allowed to use the restroom, I pulled down the hospital pants they had given me, went to pull down my underwear, and felt nothing. I still remember the feeling of my hands touching my skin and grabbing nothing. I looked down and there was nothing. The thin piece of fabric, the only thing between my vagina and anything else, was missing and everything inside me was silenced. I still don’t have words for that feeling. In order to keep breathing, I thought maybe the policemen used scissors to cut them off for evidence.
Then, I felt pine needles scratching the back of my neck and started pulling them out my hair. I thought maybe, the pine needles had fallen from a tree onto my head. My brain was talking my gut into not collapsing. Because my gut was saying, help me, help me.
I shuffled from room to room with a blanket wrapped around me, pine needles trailing behind me, I left a little pile in every room I sat in. I was asked to sign papers that said “Rape Victim” and I thought something has really happened. My clothes were confiscated and I stood naked while the nurses held a ruler to various abrasions on my body and photographed them. The three of us worked to comb the pine needles out of my hair, six hands to fill one paper bag. To calm me down, they said it’s just the flora and fauna, flora and fauna. I had multiple swabs inserted into my vagina and anus, needles for shots, pills, had a nikon pointed right into my spread legs. I had long, pointed beaks inside me and had my vagina smeared with cold, blue paint to check for abrasions.
After a few hours of this, they let me shower. I stood there examining my body beneath the stream of water and decided, I don’t want my body anymore. I was terrified of it, I didn’t know what had been in it, if it had been contaminated, who had touched it. I wanted to take off my body like a jacket and leave it at the hospital with everything else.
On that morning, all that I was told was that I had been found behind a dumpster, potentially penetrated by a stranger, and that I should get retested for HIV because results don’t always show up immediately. But for now, I should go home and get back to my normal life. Imagine stepping back into the world with only that information. They gave me huge hugs, and then I walked out of the hospital into the parking lot wearing the new sweatshirt and sweatpants they provided me, as they had only allowed me to keep my necklace and shoes.
My sister picked me up, face wet from tears and contorted in anguish. Instinctively and immediately, I wanted to take away her pain. I smiled at her, I told her to look at me, I’m right here, I’m okay, everything’s okay, I’m right here. My hair is washed and clean, they gave me the strangest shampoo, calm down, and look at me. Look at these funny new sweatpants and sweatshirt, I look like a P.E. teacher, let’s go home, let’s eat something. She did not know that beneath my sweats, I had scratches and bandages on my skin, my vagina was sore and had become a strange, dark color from all the prodding, my underwear was missing, and I felt too empty to continue to speak. That I was also afraid, that I was also devastated. That day we drove home and for hours my sister held me.
My boyfriend did not know what happened, but called that day and said, “I was really worried about you last night, you scared me, did you make it home okay?” I was horrified. That’s when I learned I had called him that night in my blackout, left an incomprehensible voicemail, that we had also spoken on the phone, but I was slurring so heavily he was scared for me, that he repeatedly told me to go find my sister. Again, he asked me, “What happened last night? Did you make it home okay?” I said yes, and hung up to cry.
I was not ready to tell my boyfriend or parents that actually, I may have been raped behind a dumpster, but I don’t know by who or when or how. If I told them, I would see the fear on their faces, and mine would multiply by tenfold, so instead I pretended the whole thing wasn’t real.
I tried to push it out of my mind, but it was so heavy I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone. After work, I would drive to a secluded place to scream. I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone, and I became isolated from the ones I loved most. For one week after the incident, I didn’t get any calls or updates about that night or what happened to me. The only symbol that proved that it hadn’t just been a bad dream, was the sweatshirt from the hospital in my drawer.
One day, I was at work, scrolling through the news on my phone, and came across an article. In it, I read and learned for the first time about how I was found unconscious, with my hair disheveled, long necklace wrapped around my neck, bra pulled out of my dress, dress pulled off over my shoulders and pulled up above my waist, that I was butt naked all the way down to my boots, legs spread apart, and had been penetrated by a foreign object by someone I did not recognize. This was how I learned what happened to me, sitting at my desk reading the news at work. I learned what happened to me the same time everyone else in the world learned what happened to me. That’s when the pine needles in my hair made sense, they didn’t fall from a tree. He had taken off my underwear, his fingers had been inside of me. I don’t even know this person. I still don’t know this person. When I read about me like this, I said, this can’t be me.
This can’t be me. I could not digest or accept any of this information. I could not imagine my family having to read about this online. I kept reading. In the next paragraph, I read something that I will never forgive; I read that according to him, I liked it. I liked it. Again, I do not have words for these feelings.
At the bottom of the article, after I learned about the graphic details of my own sexual assault, the article listed his swimming times. She was found breathing, unresponsive with her underwear six inches away from her bare stomach curled in fetal position. By the way, he’s really good at swimming. Throw in my mile time if that’s what we’re doing. I’m good at cooking, put that in there, I think the end is where you list your extra-curriculars to cancel out all the sickening things that’ve happened.
The night the news came out I sat my parents down and told them that I had been assaulted, to not look at the news because it’s upsetting, just know that I’m okay, I’m right here, and I’m okay. But halfway through telling them, my mom had to hold me because I could no longer stand up. I was not okay.
The night after it happened, he said he didn’t know my name, said he wouldn’t be able to identify my face in a lineup, didn’t mention any dialogue between us, no words, only dancing and kissing. Dancing is a cute term; was it snapping fingers and twirling dancing, or just bodies grinding up against each other in a crowded room? I wonder if kissing was just faces sloppily pressed up against each other? When the detective asked if he had planned on taking me back to his dorm, he said no. When the detective asked how we ended up behind the dumpster, he said he didn’t know. He admitted to kissing other girls at that party, one of whom was my own sister who pushed him away. He admitted to wanting to hook up with someone. I was the wounded antelope of the herd, completely alone and vulnerable, physically unable to fend for myself, and he chose me. Sometimes I think, if I hadn’t gone, then this never would’ve happened. But then I realized, it would have happened, just to somebody else. You were about to enter four years of access to drunk girls and parties, and if this is the foot you started off on, then it is right you did not continue.
The night after it happened, he said he thought I liked it because I rubbed his back. A back rub. Never mentioned me voicing consent, never mentioned us speaking, a back rub.
One more time, in public news, I learned that my ass and vagina were completely exposed outside, my breasts had been groped, fingers had been jabbed inside me along with pine needles and debris, my bare skin and head had been rubbing against the ground behind a dumpster, while an erect freshman was humping my half naked, unconscious body. But I don’t remember, so how do I prove I didn’t like it.
I thought there’s no way this is going to trial; there were witnesses, there was dirt in my body, he ran but was caught. He’s going to settle, formally apologize, and we will both move on. Instead, I was told he hired a powerful attorney, expert witnesses, private investigators who were going to try and find details about my personal life to use against me, find loopholes in my story to invalidate me and my sister, in order to show that this sexual assault was in fact a misunderstanding. That he was going to go to any length to convince the world he had simply been confused.
I was not only told that I was assaulted, I was told that because I couldn’t remember, I technically could not prove it was unwanted. And that distorted me, damaged me, almost broke me. It is the saddest type of confusion to be told I was assaulted and nearly raped, blatantly out in the open, but we don’t know if it counts as assault yet. I had to fight for an entire year to make it clear that there was something wrong with this situation.
When I was told to be prepared in case we didn’t win, I said, I can’t prepare for that. He was guilty the minute I woke up. No one can talk me out of the hurt he caused me. Worst of all, I was warned, because he now knows you don’t remember, he is going to get to write the script. He can say whatever he wants and no one can contest it. I had no power, I had no voice, I was defenseless. My memory loss would be used against me. My testimony was weak, was incomplete, and I was made to believe that perhaps, I am not enough to win this. That’s so damaging. His attorney constantly reminded the jury, the only one we can believe is Brock, because she doesn’t remember. That helplessness was traumatizing.
Instead of taking time to heal, I was taking time to recall the night in excruciating detail, in order to prepare for the attorney’s questions that would be invasive, aggressive, and designed to steer me off course, to contradict myself, my sister, phrased in ways to manipulate my answers. Instead of his attorney saying, Did you notice any abrasions? He said, You didn’t notice any abrasions, right? This was a game of strategy, as if I could be tricked out of my own worth. The sexual assault had been so clear, but instead, here I was at the trial, answering question like:
How old are you? How much do you weigh? What did you eat that day? Well what did you have for dinner? Who made dinner? Did you drink with dinner? No, not even water? When did you drink? How much did you drink? What container did you drink out of? Who gave you the drink? How much do you usually drink? Who dropped you off at this party? At what time? But where exactly? What were you wearing? Why were you going to this party? What’d you do when you got there? Are you sure you did that? But what time did you do that? What does this text mean? Who were you texting? When did you urinate? Where did you urinate? With whom did you urinate outside? Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I’d like to point out that you said it was set to ring. Did you drink in college? You said you were a party animal? How many times did you black out? Did you party at frats? Are you serious with your boyfriend? Are you sexually active with him? When did you start dating? Would you ever cheat? Do you have a history of cheating? What do you mean when you said you wanted to reward him? Do you remember what time you woke up? Were you wearing your cardigan? What color was your cardigan? Do you remember any more from that night? No? Okay, we’ll let Brock fill it in.
I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who didn’t even take the time to ask me for my name, who had me naked a handful of minutes after seeing me. After a physical assault, I was assaulted with questions designed to attack me, to say see, her facts don’t line up, she’s out of her mind, she’s practically an alcoholic, she probably wanted to hook up, he’s like an athlete right, they were both drunk, whatever, the hospital stuff she remembers is after the fact, why take it into account, Brock has a lot at stake so he’s having a really hard time right now.
And then it came time for him to testify. This is where I became revictimized. I want to remind you, the night after it happened he said he never planned to take me back to his dorm. He said he didn’t know why we were behind a dumpster. He got up to leave because he wasn’t feeling well when he was suddenly chased and attacked. Then he learned I could not remember.
So one year later, as predicted, a new dialogue emerged. Brock had a strange new story, almost sounded like a poorly written young adult novel with kissing and dancing and hand holding and lovingly tumbling onto the ground, and most importantly in this new story, there was suddenly consent. One year after the incident, he remembered, oh yeah, by the way she actually said yes, to everything, so.
He said he had asked if I wanted to dance. Apparently I said yes. He’d asked if I wanted to go to his dorm, I said yes. Then he asked if he could finger me and I said yes. Most guys don’t ask, Can I finger you? Usually there’s a natural progression of things, unfolding consensually, not a Q and A. But apparently I granted full permission. He’s in the clear.
Even in this story, there’s barely any dialogue; I only said a total of three words before he had me half naked on the ground. I have never been penetrated after three words. He didn’t claim to hear me speak one full sentence that night, so in the news when it says we “met”, I’m not sure I would go so far as to say that. Future reference, if you are confused about whether a girl can consent, see if she can speak an entire sentence. You couldn’t even do that. Just one coherent string of words. If she can’t do that, then no. Don’t touch her, just no. Not maybe, just no. Where was the confusion? This is common sense, human decency.
According to him, the only reason we were on the ground was because I fell down. Note; if a girl falls help her get back up. If she is too drunk to even walk and falls, do not mount her, hump her, take off her underwear, and insert your hand inside her vagina. If a girl falls help her up. If she is wearing a cardigan over her dress don’t take it off so that you can touch her breasts. Maybe she is cold, maybe that’s why she wore the cardigan. If her bare ass and legs are rubbing the pinecones and needles, while the weight of you pushes into her, get off her.
Next in the story, two people approached you. You ran because you said you felt scared. I argue that you were scared because you’d be caught, not because you were scared of two terrifying Swedish grad students. The idea that you thought you were being attacked out of the blue was ludicrous. That it had nothing to do with you being on top my unconscious body. You were caught red handed, with no explanation. When they tackled you why didn’t [you] say, “Stop! Everything’s okay, go ask her, she’s right over there, she’ll tell you.” I mean you had just asked for my consent, right? I was awake, right? When the policeman arrived and interviewed the evil Swede who tackled you, he was crying so hard he couldn’t speak because of what he’d seen. Also, if you really did think they were dangerous, you just abandoned a half-naked girl to run and save yourself. No matter which way you frame it, it doesn’t make sense.
Your attorney has repeatedly pointed out, well we don’t know exactly when she became unconscious. And you’re right, maybe I was still fluttering my eyes and wasn’t completely limp yet, fine. His guilt did not depend on him knowing the exact second that I became unconscious, that is never what this was about. I was slurring, too drunk to consent way before I was on the ground. I should have never been touched in the first place. Brock stated, “At no time did I see that she was not responding. If at any time I thought she was not responding, I would have stopped immediately.” Here’s the thing; if your plan was to stop only when I was literally unresponsive, then you still do not understand. You didn’t even stop when I was unconscious anyway! Someone else stopped you. Two guys on bikes noticed I wasn’t moving in the dark and had to tackle you. How did you not notice while on top of me?
You said, you would have stopped and gotten help. You say that, but I want you to explain how you would’ve helped me, step by step, walk me through this. I want to know, if those evil Swedes had not found me, how the night would have played out. I am asking you; Would you have pulled my underwear back on over my boots? Untangled the necklace wrapped around my neck? Closed my legs, covered me? Tucked my bra back into my dress? Would you have helped me pick the needles from my hair? Asked if the abrasions on my neck and bottom hurt? Would you then go find a friend and say, Will you help me get her somewhere warm and soft? I don’t sleep when I think about the way it could have gone if the Swedes had never come. What would have happened to me? That’s what you’ll never have a good answer for, that’s what you can’t explain even after a year.
To sit under oath and inform all of us, that yes I wanted it, yes I permitted it, and that you are the true victim attacked by guys for reasons unknown to you is sick, is demented, is selfish, is stupid. It shows that you were willing to go to any length, to discredit me, invalidate me, and explain why it was okay to hurt me. You tried unyieldingly to save yourself, your reputation, at my expense.
My family had to see pictures of my head strapped to a gurney full of pine needles, of my body in the dirt with my eyes closed, dress hiked up, limbs limp in the dark. And then even after that, my family had to listen to your attorney say, the pictures were after the fact, we can dismiss them. To say, yes her nurse confirmed there was redness and abrasions inside her, but that’s what happens when you finger someone, and he’s already admitted to that. To listen to him use my own sister against me. To listen him attempt to paint of a picture of me, the seductive party animal, as if somehow that would make it so that I had this coming for me. To listen to him say I sounded drunk on the phone because I’m silly and that’s my goofy way of speaking. To point out that in the voicemail, I said I would reward my boyfriend and we all know what I was thinking. I assure you my rewards program is non-transferable, especially to any nameless man that approaches me.
The point is, this is everything my family and I endured during the trial. This is everything I had to sit through silently, taking it, while he shaped the evening. It is enough to be suffering. It is another thing to have someone ruthlessly working to diminish the gravity and validity of this suffering. But in the end, his unsupported statements and his attorney’s twisted logic fooled no one. The truth won, the truth spoke for itself.
You are guilty. Twelve jurors convicted you guilty of three felony counts beyond reasonable doubt, that’s twelve votes per count, thirty-six yeses confirming guilt, that’s one hundred percent, unanimous guilt. And I thought finally it is over, finally he will own up to what he did, truly apologize, we will both move on and get better. Then I read your statement.
If you are hoping that one of my organs will implode from anger and I will die, I’m almost there. You are very close. Assault is not an accident. This is not a story of another drunk college hookup with poor decision making. Somehow, you still don’t get it. Somehow, you still sound confused.
I will now take this opportunity to read portions of the defendant’s statement and respond to them.
You said, “Being drunk I just couldn’t make the best decisions and neither could she.”
Alcohol is not an excuse. Is it a factor? Yes. But alcohol was not the one who stripped me, fingered me, had my head dragging against the ground, with me almost fully naked. Having too much to drink was an amateur mistake that I admit to, but it is not criminal. Everyone in this room has had a night where they have regretted drinking too much, or knows someone close to them who has had a night where they have regretted drinking too much. Regretting drinking is not the same as regretting sexual assault. We were both drunk, the difference is I did not take off your pants and underwear, touch you inappropriately, and run away. That’s the difference.
You said, If I wanted to get to know her, I should have asked for her number, rather than asking her to go back to my room.
I’m not mad because you didn’t ask for my number. Even if you did know me, I would not want [to] be in this situation. My own boyfriend knows me, but if he asked to finger me behind a dumpster, I would slap him. No girl wants to be in this situation. Nobody. I don’t care if you know their phone number or not.
You said, I stupidly thought it was okay for me to do what everyone around me was doing, which was drinking. I was wrong.
Again, you were not wrong for drinking. Everyone around you was not sexually assaulting me. You were wrong for doing what nobody else was doing, which was pushing your erect dick in your pants against my naked, defenseless body concealed in a dark area, where partygoers could no longer see or protect me, and own my sister could not find me. Sipping fireball is not your crime. Peeling off and discarding my underwear like a candy wrapper to insert your finger into my body, is where you went wrong. Why am I still explaining this.
You said, During the trial I didn’t want to victimize her at all. That was just my attorney and his way of approaching the case.
Your attorney is not your scapegoat, he represents you. Did your attorney say some incredulously infuriating, degrading things? Absolutely. He said you had an erection, because it was cold. I have no words.
You said, you are in the process of establishing a program for high school and college students in which you speak about your experience to “speak out against the college campus drinking culture and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that.”
Speak out against campus drinking culture. That’s what we’re speaking out against? You think that’s what I’ve spent the past year fighting for? Not awareness about campus sexual assault, or rape, or learning to recognize consent. Campus drinking culture. Down with Jack Daniels. Down with Skyy Vodka. If you want talk to high school kids about drinking go to an AA meeting. You realize, having a drinking problem is different than drinking and then forcefully trying to have sex with someone? Show men how to respect women, not how to drink less.
Drinking culture and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Goes along with that, like a side effect, like fries on the side of your order. Where does promiscuity even come into play? I don’t see headlines that read, Brock Turner, Guilty of drinking too much and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Campus [Sexual] Assault. There’s your first powerpoint slide.
I have done enough explaining. You do not get to shrug your shoulders and be confused anymore. You do not get to pretend that there were no red flags. You do not get to not know why you ran. You have been convicted of violating me with malicious intent, and all you can admit to is consuming alcohol. Do not talk about the sad way your life was upturned because alcohol made you do bad things. Figure out how to take responsibility for your own conduct.
Lastly you said, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin a life.
Ruin a life, one life, yours, you forgot about mine. Let me rephrase for you, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin two lives. You and me. You are the cause, I am the effect. You have dragged me through this hell with you, dipped me back into that night again and again. You knocked down both our towers, I collapsed at the same time you did. Your damage was concrete; stripped of titles, degrees, enrollment. My damage was internal, unseen, I carry it with me. You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until today.
See one thing we have in common is that we were both unable to get up in the morning. I am no stranger to suffering. You made me a victim. In newspapers my name was “unconscious intoxicated woman”, ten syllables, and nothing more than that. For a while, I believed that that was all I was. I had to force myself to relearn my real name, my identity. To relearn that this is not all that I am. That I am not just a drunk victim at a frat party found behind a dumpster, while you are the All-American swimmer at a top university, innocent until proven guilty, with so much at stake. I am a human being who has been irreversibly hurt, who waited a year to figure out if I was worth something.
My independence, natural joy, gentleness, and steady lifestyle I had been enjoying became distorted beyond recognition. I became closed off, angry, self-deprecating, tired, irritable, empty. The isolation at times was unbearable. You cannot give me back the life I had before that night either. While you worry about your shattered reputation, I refrigerated spoons every night so when I woke up, and my eyes were puffy from crying, I would hold the spoons to my eyes to lessen the swelling so that I could see. I showed up an hour late to work every morning, excused myself to cry in the stairwells, I can tell you all the best places in that building to cry where no one can hear you, the pain became so bad that I had to tell my boss I was leaving, I needed time because continuing day to day was not possible. I used my savings to go as far away as I could possibly be.
I can’t sleep alone at night without having a light on, like a five year old, because I have nightmares of being touched where I cannot wake up, I did this thing where I waited until the sun came up and I felt safe enough to sleep. For three months, I went to bed at six o’clock in the morning.
I used to pride myself on my independence, now I am afraid to go on walks in the evening, to attend social events with drinking among friends where I should be comfortable being. I have become a little barnacle always needing to be at someone’s side, to have my boyfriend standing next to me, sleeping beside me, protecting me. It is embarrassing how feeble I feel, how timidly I move through life, always guarded, ready to defend myself, ready to be angry.
You have no idea how hard I have worked to rebuild parts of me that are still weak. It took me eight months to even talk about what happened. I could no longer connect with friends, with everyone around me. I would scream at my boyfriend, my own family whenever they brought this up. You never let me forget what happened to me. At the of end of the hearing, the trial, I was too tired to speak. I would leave drained, silent. I would go home turn off my phone and for days I would not speak. You bought me a ticket to a planet where I lived by myself. Every time a new article [would] come out, I lived with the paranoia that my entire hometown would find out and know me as the girl who got assaulted. I didn’t want anyone’s pity and am still learning to accept victim as part of my identity. You made my own hometown an uncomfortable place to be.
Someday, you can pay me back for my ambulance ride and therapy. But you cannot give me back my sleepless nights. The way I have broken down sobbing uncontrollably if I’m watching a movie and a woman is harmed, to say it lightly, this experience has expanded my empathy for other victims. I have lost weight from stress, when people would comment I told them I’ve been running a lot lately. There are times I did not want to be touched. I have to relearn that I am not fragile, I am capable, I am wholesome, not just livid and weak.
I want to say this. All the crying, the hurting you have imposed on me, I can take it. But when I see my younger sister hurting, when she is unable to keep up in school, when she is deprived of joy, when she is not sleeping, when she is crying so hard on the phone she is barely breathing, telling me over and over she is sorry for leaving me alone that night, sorry sorry sorry, when she feels more guilt than you, then I do not forgive you. That night I had called her to try and find her, but you found me first. Your attorney’s closing statement began, “My sister said she was fine and who knows her better than her sister.” You tried to use my own sister against me. Your points of attack were so weak, so low, it was almost embarrassing. You do not touch her.
If you think I was spared, came out unscathed, that today I ride off into sunset, while you suffer the greatest blow, you are mistaken. Nobody wins. We have all been devastated, we have all been trying to find some meaning in all of this suffering.
You should have never done this to me. Secondly, you should have never made me fight so long to tell you, you should have never done this to me. But here we are. The damage is done, no one can undo it. And now we both have a choice. We can let this destroy us, I can remain angry and hurt and you can be in denial, or we can face it head on, I accept the pain, you accept the punishment, and we move on.
Your life is not over, you have decades of years ahead to rewrite your story. The world is huge, it is so much bigger than Palo Alto and Stanford, and you will make a space for yourself in it where you can be useful and happy. Right now your name is tainted, so I challenge you to make a new name for yourself, to do something so good for the world, it blows everyone away. You have a brain and a voice and a heart. Use them wisely. You possess immense love from your family. That alone can pull you out of anything. Mine has held me up through all of this. Yours will hold you and you will go on.
I believe, that one day, you will understand all of this better. I hope you will become a better more honest person who can properly use this story to prevent another story like this from ever happening again. I fully support your journey to healing, to rebuilding your life, because that is the only way you’ll begin to help others.
Now to address the sentencing. When I read the probation officer’s report, I was in disbelief, consumed by anger which eventually quieted down to profound sadness. My statements have been slimmed down to distortion and taken out of context. I fought hard during this trial and will not have the outcome minimized by a probation officer who attempted to evaluate my current state and my wishes in a fifteen minute conversation, the majority of which was spent answering questions I had about the legal system. The context is also important. Brock had yet to issue a statement, and I had not read his remarks.
My life has been on hold for over a year, a year of anger, anguish and uncertainty, until a jury of my peers rendered a judgment that validated the injustices I had endured. Had Brock admitted guilt and remorse and offered to settle early on, I would have considered a lighter sentence, respecting his honesty, grateful to be able to move our lives forward. Instead he took the risk of going to trial, added insult to injury and forced me to relive the hurt as details about my personal life and sexual assault were brutally dissected before the public. He pushed me and my family through a year of inexplicable, unnecessary suffering, and should face the consequences of challenging his crime, of putting my pain into question, of making us wait so long for justice.
I told the probation officer I do not want Brock to rot away in prison. I did not say he does not deserve to be behind bars. The probation officer’s recommendation of a year or less in county jail is a soft time-out, a mockery of the seriousness of his assaults, and of the consequences of the pain I have been forced to endure. I also told the probation officer that what I truly wanted was for Brock to get it, to understand and admit to his wrongdoing.
Unfortunately, after reading the defendant’s statement, I am severely disappointed and feel that he has failed to exhibit sincere remorse or responsibility for his conduct. I fully respected his right to a trial, but even after twelve jurors unanimously convicted him guilty of three felonies, all he has admitted to doing is ingesting alcohol. Someone who cannot take full accountability for his actions does not deserve a mitigating sentence. It is deeply offensive that he would try and dilute rape with a suggestion of promiscuity. By definition rape is the absence of promiscuity, rape is the absence of consent, and it perturbs me deeply that he can’t even see that distinction.
The probation officer factored in that the defendant is youthful and has no prior convictions. In my opinion, he is old enough to know what he did was wrong. When you are eighteen in this country you can go to war. When you are nineteen, you are old enough to pay the consequences for attempting to rape someone. He is young, but he is old enough to know better.
As this is a first offense I can see where leniency would beckon. On the other hand, as a society, we cannot forgive everyone’s first sexual assault or digital rape. It doesn’t make sense. The seriousness of rape has to be communicated clearly, we should not create a culture that suggests we learn that rape is wrong through trial and error. The consequences of sexual assault needs to be severe enough that people feel enough fear to exercise good judgment even if they are drunk, severe enough to be preventative. The fact that Brock was a star athlete at a prestigious university should not be seen as an entitlement to leniency, but as an opportunity to send a strong cultural message that sexual assault is against the law regardless of social class.
The probation officer weighed the fact that he has surrendered a hard earned swimming scholarship. If I had been sexually assaulted by an un-athletic guy from a community college, what would his sentence be? If a first time offender from an underprivileged background was accused of three felonies and displayed no accountability for his actions other than drinking, what would his sentence be? How fast he swims does not lessen the impact of what happened to me.
The Probation Officer has stated that this case, when compared to other crimes of similar nature, may be considered less serious due to the defendant’s level of intoxication. It felt serious. That’s all I’m going to say.
He is a lifetime sex registrant. That doesn’t expire. Just like what he did to me doesn’t expire, doesn’t just go away after a set number of years. It stays with me, it’s part of my identity, it has forever changed the way I carry myself, the way I live the rest of my life.
A year has gone by and he has had lots of time on his hands. Has he been seeing a psychologist? What has he done in this past year to show he’s been progressing? If he says he wants to implement programs, what has he done to show for it?
Throughout incarceration I hope he is provided with appropriate therapy and resources to rebuild his life. I request that he educates himself about the issue of campus sexual assault. I hope he accepts proper punishment and pushes himself to reenter society as a better person.
To conclude, I want to say thank you. To everyone from the intern who made me oatmeal when I woke up at the hospital that morning, to the deputy who waited beside me, to the nurses who calmed me, to the detective who listened to me and never judged me, to my advocates who stood unwaveringly beside me, to my therapist who taught me to find courage in vulnerability, to my boss for being kind and understanding, to my incredible parents who teach me how to turn pain into strength, to my friends who remind me how to be happy, to my boyfriend who is patient and loving, to my unconquerable sister who is the other half of my heart, to Alaleh, my idol, who fought tirelessly and never doubted me. Thank you to everyone involved in the trial for their time and attention. Thank you to girls across the nation that wrote cards to my DA to give to me, so many strangers who cared for me.
Most importantly, thank you to the two men who saved me, who I have yet to meet. I sleep with two bicycles that I drew taped above my bed to remind myself there are heroes in this story. That we are looking out for one another. To have known all of these people, to have felt their protection and love, is something I will never forget.
And finally, to girls everywhere, I am with you. On nights when you feel alone, I am with you. When people doubt you or dismiss you, I am with you. I fought everyday for you. So never stop fighting, I believe you. Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining. Although I can’t save every boat, I hope that by speaking today, you absorbed a small amount of light, a small knowing that you can’t be silenced, a small satisfaction that justice was served, a small assurance that we are getting somewhere, and a big, big knowing that you are important, unquestionably, you are untouchable, you are beautiful, you are to be valued, respected, undeniably, every minute of every day, you are powerful and nobody can take that away from you. To girls everywhere, I am with you. Thank you.
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2020.09.16 16:54 bigtonybruiser Mom naked on bed
Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin doin your mom doin doin your mom You know we straight with doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin doin your mom doin doin your mom You know we straight with doin your mom I'm doin your mom. Yes yours! I first saw her in the Wal-Mart pickin out your drawers. Big Dolly Parton hair like an 80s prom queen But her ass was lookin good all up in those mom-jeans. I approached her in the checkout line,and said yo baby wassup? She had two gallons of milk,and I was starin at her jugs. Five minutes later she agreed to get with me So we went and rocked the minivan like Giggity. Giggity. Giggity. I was ridin your mom like she was Mario Kart. I gave her a lift back to her crib cause her car wouldn't start. She invited me in the house,and we started makin out again. How many times I tap that ass? OVER 9000! Yeah. She called me Pledge cause I knocked the dust off it. She later made me a sandwich and she cut the crust off it. Cause she knows how I like it,and that I'm a little young To be in the bed,butt-naked doin your mom. Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin doin your mom doin doin your mom You know we straight with doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin doin your mom doin doin your mom You know we straight with doin your mom I like your mamas big butt,and I cannot lie. You other brothers can't deny that she's fly. We make sexy time,yes and every night I tap that. She saw me butt-naked,now she thinks I'm half black. But your moms the best,the super M.I.L.F. Cause she loves to toss the salad even though she ain't a chef And I blame it on the al-al-al-cohol But If I were you,I wouldn't kiss your mom on the mouth at all. She likes the Donkey-Punch. She likes the Dirty Sanchez. Sometimes she even likes to fool around in your bed. She likes rough sex with handcuffs and I'll be honest She likes me to Chris Brown her when she acts like Rihanna. She's so therapeutic. When I need to cure my restlessness I br-br-br-br-br-br-br-br motorboat your moms breastestess. I didn't wanna tell you,but I had to write this song Cause I'm in your house every night doin your mo-om. Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin doin your mom doin doin your mom You know we straight with doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin doin your mom doin doin your mom You know we straight with doin your mom I'm havin sex with your mother That makes me better than you. I'm havin sex with your mother That makes me better than you. Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin doin your mom doin doin your mom You know we straight with doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin your mom doin doin your mom Doin doin your mom doin doin your mom You know we straight with doin your mom
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