Internet sex dating

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2011.06.20 15:32 headShrinker GYO: gay older men and younger men together.

GYO is about gay older men and younger men together. It's about sex and love in intergenerational relationships.
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2018.03.08 21:57 ClassyAnalViolator Dating After Thirty / Dating Over Thirty / Dating as a grown-up is more fun.

Dating After Thirty / Dating Over Thirty / Dating as a grown-up is more fun.
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2020.09.30 17:08 WorkingMeringue Dating Apps are Trash (My experience)

I am 38 years old and, not happy with a stable relationship and a peaceful life, I decided to destroy everything and break up with my girlfriend, rightly finding myself in discomfort. Some friends have had the "brilliant" idea of ​​suggesting me to subscribe to Tinder.
After long hesitations I did it and ... I took an infinite blow.
From here, I decided to subscribe to all these platforms to see how far in hell I could go. If Facebook seems uncomfortable to you, calculate that its downloads end up in these apps, creating a terrifying parallel ecosystem .
A universe populated by women who seek the love of their life and men who demand sex within five minutes. From these unapproachable positions an even greater discomfort arises revealed by photos of cocks sent out of nowhere with no apparent reason to women, who respond with total resentment towards the male gender. Throwing a normal person in all of this is like living in the verge of absolute panic.
I always filled out the profile completely, with normal photos, I wrote a nice presentation and always made approaches in chat trying to make people understand I'm "coming in peace". Well: I guess I've never been so mistreated, humiliated and mocked before in my life as using these platforms.
It's hard to understand if you've never tried them, but I immediately got free beating like “Hi, my name is Andrea: nice to meet you! "- receiving as a reply answers like:" AHAHAHAH where the fuck you want to go with that shitty goatee, cut it."OK.I won't go into it any more, also because this is the longest post I've ever written in 22 years of the internet, it's time to start: welcome to hell, I'll be your guide.

TINDER

Pushed by some friends I signed up for Tinder, the hottest dating app of the moment .The first person the app proposed me was my ex girlfriend.Like a destroyer in the teeth.Life can be truly infamous when it wants, let alone social media.How many chances were there that the first proposal was the person you've been desperate for four months?We could call it Karma , but I don't believe in it, in destiny and all these deterministic and self compensating theories of higher forces. We could say that even according to Tinder we were made for each other. Very romantic hypothesis. The truth is much simpler and that is #EverythingIsShit.I'll be honest: from the outside it's very funny.
As I looked at the screen thinking about how to put an end to my existence, I thought about how funny the scene was for an outsider. And I decided that I would write such a post.However, I wanted to give Tinder the possibility of reaching up to 10 proposals.Well.Out of the first ten proposals, one was her, two were the girlfriends of a couple of men I know in real life, and the third was a wife of a relative.Not bad come on. There is a though.They all claimed to be there to chat.And I want to believe it: it is no coincidence that every time I have a great desire for a fresh field salad I go to Mc Donald's to get one .I'm obviously sarcastic, in case you didn't understand.Quite shocked I decided to instantly thunder my profile and move on to something else."What a shitty review was that?".It's my experiential review, nothing more, nothing less.

BADOO

Badoo is the realm of absolute evil, in practice when FACEBOOK pulls the water it conveys its sewers into this sick ecosystem, steeped in hatred, resentment and annoyance towards others. Men are just looking for instant sex and send penis photos like there's no tomorrow, women complain about it (rightly) but for their part they introduce themselves as "I 'm here but don't write to me " (so why you joined a dating site?), "I hate everyone, males sucks”(so why are you looking for dating).
These kind of things generate great embarrassment, I guess they have their very good reasons for being in this situation but, perhaps, then they should not be on an app which basically serves for a first acquaintance aimed at an encounter rather than a debate on Aristotelian philosophy.
As if there was no end to the worst, I also found a cheerful 45-year-old woman who does not accept non-serious stories, from the top of her two marriages plus a failed cohabitation. Which makes her a guarantee of seriousness. For her part, however, she declares herself "very affectionate" and the six dependent children that the future arrears may have to manage testify to this.
If that's not a bargain, you can find it on Badoo.The situation I encountered is this: average age of 45 years, and widespread ostentatious hatred towards the male gender. I can't give you the reasons but I can tell you that 35% of users are caregivers from the East Europe, 35% are nurses (or there are many nurses in the world or all of them are on Badoo), the remaining 30% is a random miscellany of women of all ages from casual jobs, trans and prostitutes.
I'll be honest: if it hadn't been 20+ years that I have been around the web, and that I have had to deal with the worst trolls, I would not have been able to handle these situations with such ease and I would have faltered heavily.On a functional level, Badoo presents a block of a certain level: if after two messages a girl does not answer you, you cannot write to her anymore. As a result, people sign up, bombard the whole district with two messages, get no answers, unsubscribe, sign up with a new profile and start trawling again. Hence a certain anger on the part of the girls can be understood.Did you do it too? Yes.Interesting is that girls who the first time did not even shit on me, the second they answered me a lot. I don't know, maybe the air humidity changed in the meanwhile.
Anyway, being tired of being blasted at random by girls I hadn't done anything to, I unsubscribed to move on to the next round of hell.

HOOTT

Hoott is a very nice app where practically nothing happens.You sign up and the profile is instantly visited by a billion hot, clearly fake, girls triggering the hormone. You realize that without a subscription you can practically do nothing, you subscribe and find that no one responds.I made a subscription for a month and a total of three subscriptions, I was able to chat with only one girl who I think I can say with enough certainty was a bot since, exhausted by the nullity of the dialogues, to her question “what are you doing now? "I replied (to remove any doubt)" I shit like a dragon on the toilet " getting as a reply: "I'm in underwear on the bed, see you on the hangout if you want”.Ok.

BUMBLE

Bumble is an app that seems to be interesting, but at the same time I believe that outside the US very few people use it, and where I live nobody uses it but me. Or rather none.I have no data in hand, but the closest girls reported to me were always located at least 75 miles away from me and always foreigners (probably tourists).

HATER

I'm tired of writing and tried these months of testing.I conclude with HATER a dating app with an interesting philosophy: finding a soul mate based on the things you hate.Between saying what you like or what you don't like, on a programming level, it doesn't change a banana but let's say that on a philosophical level it is interesting.
Having said that, I used the app a little bite by replying to absurd questions from some random girls such as “do you like sloppy pants or not? ”, then I got bored and threw everything away because the survival principle advised me.I don't know if these are real users, if they aren't, I don't know anything.

Sum it up

I will not do absurd lectures imbued with do-gooders, exhortations not to use dating apps or anything like that.The facts I have explained to you, I did not need to make any artifacts to carry on the discussion because the situation was already quite extreme on its own.I do not exclude it is possible to find a soul mate, but I do not see more probabilities than in other contexts, indeed. The fact that the apps are for dating doesn't mean that people are more available for a relationship (in all respects): on Instagram and FaceBook I chat with many more people and at a much higher level of respect and culture.It was also an interesting experiment of his own but I'm really happy that it's finished, I signed up to these platforms sad, I came out torn apart, even if I had flashes of great fun (followed by pauses of cosmic darkness).
submitted by WorkingMeringue to dating [link] [comments]


2020.09.30 16:42 digital4kcollector (Offer) updated list. Animated DC movies (request) lists, offers

Hey new username, formerly littlejohn04
**4K Disney/Marvel*\*
**HD Disney/Marvel/Star Wars*\*
**collections*\*
**HD unless noted as 4k*\* ​

**Standard Definition Movies*\*
**XML CODES*\*
Abraham Lincoln vampire hunter / avengers / Broken City / Captain America First Avenger / Chronicle / Despicable Me / diary of a wimpy kid 3 dog days / die hard 5 / Family guy it's a trap / Fast And Furious / Fast And Furious Tokyo Drift / Green zone / Hitchcock / ice age / Inglorious Basterds / iron man 2 / jumper / kung fu panda 2 / life of pi / Lincoln / Mamma Mia! / Monsters Inc / parental guidance / Rio / percy Jackson sea of monsters / percy jackson the lightning thief / Prometheus / the proposal / Puss in Boots / rio / Skyfall / The Fast And The Furious / The Hangover / the heat / the town / Trainspotting / the town / walking with dinosaurs / Xmen / Xmen First Class / Xmen the wolverine
TV shows*
Screen passes list
https://www.reddit.com/usedigital4kcollectocomments/hiq066/screen_passes/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share
**REQUESTING*\*
New releases 4k preferred Itunes preferred if not MA
submitted by digital4kcollector to uvtrade [link] [comments]


2020.09.30 12:17 OkieRhio This is difficult for me to talk about

I'm (54f) currently in a Domestic Partnership with my partner (57m). We have been together for coming up on 10 years as a couple, and 8 years living in the same home. Neither of us has had a great life, and we're both divorced previously from other people. I've been through multiple abusive relationships in my past, as I was co-dependent at the time (still recovering and healing from that) and spent several years repeating bad decision making processes where partners were concerned.
Things went financially south for me about a year and a half into my current relationship, and I was about to become homeless, so partner worked out with his roommates at the time to allow me to move in to their spare room so I wouldn't be living out of my car. It made sense for me to be in a separate bedroom at the time - we worked at the same place, during the same shift, and rode to and from work together. We needed separate spaces to retreat to while at home so there wasn't the strain of Too Much togetherness.
That's when our sex life took a decided turn for the worse, and it has simply gone down hill every year since then. We went from an active sex life that was multiple times a week, to literally nothing for weeks at a time overnight, to finally nothing at all for the past 4 years. I had been ill due to a flare up of a chronic autoimmune disease, and at first I put it down to him wanting to give me time to recuperate. But even after I had gotten a new doctor, changed meds, and gone through a recuperation period things didn't improve. He started making excuses about not wanting to disturb the very pregnant homeowner - because I tended to be Noisy. Then the homeowner and her live in boyfriend moved out of state right after their kid was born, about 6 months after I moved in. No improvement, and less than a month after the homeowner bailed out of state, we had to move because the house foreclosed - turned out that I was the only one involved who did Not know that the house was being foreclosed on, and had been for 2 YEARS when I moved in. I put the continued lack of a sex life down to stress, as we rushed to find a rental that we could afford to move into. By this point in time, we'd had sex exactly 3 times during the 6 months since I moved in, and all 3 of those times were decidedly less enthusiastic than things had been prior to me living there - going from a couple hours of foreplay and him making sure my needs were well taken care of, to him having no interest in any sort of foreplay except the absolute minimum required to lubricate me sufficiently that it wasn't blatantly painful, unless it was specifically him getting extended blow jobs.
We managed to find a place and got settled in - still in separate bedrooms. His reasoning? He worked nights and since I was up during the day, it was better if he could simply close his bedroom door without me being in and out of the bedroom while he was trying to sleep for work. It made a certain amount of sense at the time, even though I was no longer working due to my illness. It was more than 2 months after we got settled into the rental before he had any interest in intimacy, and I hoped at the time that it meant things were going to start returning to what had been normal for us.
It was not a return to the prior normal by any stretch of the imagination. It was the start of what became the "new" normal for the two of us. I would make overtures, he would say "maybe" - and "maybe" always ended up as "no." So I got tired of the constant rejection, and stopped making overtures. Every 2 or 3 months, he would initiate - and it was....... perfunctory. By him "initiating" what I mean is that he would come into my bedroom naked, turn my computer chair to face him, and start waving his semi-flacid penis in my face while saying that we should "do more than sit in separate rooms on the computer." It was infrequent enough that I felt like I didn't dare so "no" on any of those rare occasions, because if I said no, it would be another 3 months before anything was attempted. This was also the start of him making nasty comments about my medication induced weight gain (60mg a day of steroids for 6 months after almost dying) and the fact that the weight didn't magically disappear within a couple of weeks of finally coming off the heavy medications. This is also the point at which I finally put my foot down and made it plain that I was completely uninterested in Anal - something that he had been pushing for frequently. We had tried a couple of times, but our ideas of "sufficient lubrication" for that particular act were about as far apart as 2 galaxies - to the point that he considered anything more than 2 or 3 drops of baby oil "too much" lubrication, and I had to tell him bluntly that since it was MY butthole that was going to be violated, we either went with my definition of "enough" or it didn't happen at all. He was Extremely resentful of that, but just wise enough to stop suggesting it.
We had been living together for about 2 years at this point, and I had long since noticed other issues as well. He would say he was heading to bed and close the door to his room, then within a minute (I timed him several times to verify that I wasn't imagining things) there would be a glow of light around the door frame from his (previously turned off) computer monitor. So I started checking his computer history when he left for work at 10pm each night, and found that he was spending anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes a day on porn sites. I tried to bring it up a couple of times - that I resented his daily porn habit when I was being neglected and ignored sexually - and his excuse was that he didn't want to "bother me" with sex when he had an "overactive" libido. I started checking his internet history regularly to keep tabs, and a couple of months later (around October of that year) I found that instead of simply porn sites, he had active accounts at a couple of dating sites. I confronted him about them, only to get told that they were "old" accounts from before my time, and he was reading the advice column of the one I had found he was frequenting most often. (The one I specifically confronted him about - I didn't mention that I knew about the other one.) He then changed the topic of conversation and refused to discuss it further. After I confronted him about the dating site, he set his computer to erase his history every time he closed a website, to try and keep me from knowing what he was doing - and called it an invasion of his privacy that I was looking. Unknown to him, I had made a throwaway account on the Other dating site I found frequently in his history, and was keeping tabs on how often he logged in to that site by keeping tabs on his "most recent visit" stats provided by the site. There was a 2 month stretch that he was logging on almost daily that to this day he thinks I'm unaware of because he was wiping his history every day.
Around this same time, he started trying to push me about agreeing to set up a 3some with one of my friends, supposedly on the basis that I am nominally bi When I refused to set up a 3some with the acquaintance, he started pushing for me to find a girlfriend for us to "share." That only ended when I finally snarled at him one day explaining that unless and until he agreed that I was allowed to have other males, then he was not allowed to touch other females, period. His big thing since the beginning of our relationship had been to tell me that I was free to do whoever I wanted - as long as it was someone that he would also be willing to sleep with, and since he wasn't bi other men were strictly off limits. He considered my announcement that women were off limits to him until men were no longer off limits to me to be "unfair" because - by his reasoning - I was "bi" and he wasn't, so I had a lot more "options" than he had available. Our sex life took another turn for the worse at that point - going from once every couple of months to once every 6 months, so consistent that you could almost set a clock by it.
About a year later, he started pulling Heavy amounts of overtime at work. Not previously scheduled overtime, either - just "we weren't done yet, and the boss asked me to stay to help finish up." I didn't question it at first. There was enough overtime on his paychecks to show that he Was pulling a lot of overtime hours. But then the "overtime" went from being 30 or 40 minutes a day to being 2 or 3 Hours late every day. That lasted for 4 months when he announced one morning that the managers had said there would be "no more overtime" for people. Only he continued to have 2+ hours of overtime Daily. Now since I had previously worked there on the same shift, I decided one night to go up to "take him lunch." He was annoyed about me showing up unannounced (it was a 24 hour grocery store, so it wasn't like I was having to be let in special.) One of the co-workers who knew me from my time there made a comment - supposedly a joke - about how his "new gf" wasn't going to be happy about me showing up. I shrugged it off, because the person was a known shit-stirring arse. At least I shrugged it off until I headed back out 30 minutes later, and some new girl on the crew was shooting me death glares as I paused to talk to my old co-workers. A couple of weeks later, he's 2 1/2 hours late (as usual by this point) and I see his FB account pop up on my active contacts. I messaged, figuring it was him on his phone from work to tell me he was finally headed home. No answer, and within 30 seconds of me sending the message, his name disappears from my active contacts list. I go double check to make sure he didn't leave FB open when he left for work - nothing. 20 minutes later, he strolls in the door, and claims cluelessness concerning the whole thing, and says he doesn't even have the app on his phone. (Which I already knew was a blatant lie, since I had been keeping tabs on his phone while he was in the shower since finding the dating sites in his web history! No, he still doesn't know that I was routinely checking his phone texts and calls at that point, or what I found.) While I've never bluntly confronted him about it, and I have no Hard Evidence (no texts or emails or phone logs) - I'm 99.9999% certain that he was having an affair with the gal at work, and possibly a second affair with someone from one of the two dating sites at the same time. I've considered it, but every time the topic of cheating on a partner has come up, he makes a big deal about how "its always the person who is Doing the cheating who makes accusations."
3 years ago, we moved again after almost 5 years in the rental place - we purchased a house in both our names, after 2 years of hassles with the rental landlord becoming increasingly impossible to deal with. We got everything moved, and for a change, we did not set up separate bedrooms - we were both going to be in the same room, despite him still being (at that time) on a graveyard shift. Again, I thought mistakenly that things would improve now that we were in our own home, and the landlord fiasco was over. I should have known better. A week after we moved in, we still hadn't been intimate, despite it having been a year since the last successful time, and 6 months since the last aborted attempt, and I got up out of bed to go check on him in the converted garage/office - only to find him on the computer with the headphones on, watching porn and jerking off, so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't even notice me come into the office or walk past him into the spare room with the dog to curl up on a couch and cry in the dark. He became ill about 6 months later, and has since gone on full disability - and for the past 2 years has used that as his excuse for why we had no sex life.
We have had sex exactly ONCE in the past 4 years - about 3 months ago - and it was a complete fiasco. Again there was no foreplay, no attempts to warm things up - he walked into the room while I was getting ready to go to bed and stuck his dick in my face like he used to before things became a complete grave yard. I went through with it, despite a complete lack of desire to have anything to do with him sexually by this point, because I didn't have the emotional energy for the fight I figured it would cause if I said no now that he had finally made Some sort of overture after so long. I've been thinking about leaving for a long time. I'm still thinking about it. Recently, he made an off hand remark about not knowing why I was still with him after all this time. I answered honestly - though he thought I was joking - that I would leave, but the house is half mine, and I can't afford to not have a room mate. I've considered more than once just quietly having an affair - and I've had plenty of opportunities to do so - but I've never been able to make myself cross that line, despite his absolute neglect and frequent rejection of me. I've always been of the opinion that cheating is an act without Honor, and my sense of Honor is... extremely well defined. I've also been cheated on by more than one ex, and find it an absolutely abhorrent act, along with the sheer level of lies and betrayal that cheating requires. So I haven't really considered it an option, and still mostly don't. At this point, I honestly don't know what to do. I have very little faith in councilors for the most part, after years of working through past traumas and C-PTSD. I have Zero faith in Couples Counseling, even if I believed he would agree (he wouldn't.) I'm at my wits end. I have neither the desire nor the intention of making attempts to get things started myself again - I've more than had my fill of "maybe/no" rejections, and being put off with whatever excuse he thinks is going to sound most legitimate on any given day long ago. I also have no desire to go through the rest of my life in a relationship completely lacking in any sort of physical intimacy, where I routinely feel like I'm Less because he still regularly (at least a couple of times a week) hits the porn sites while I'm either asleep, or gone running errands.
Any suggestions- keeping in mind that cheating isn't really a viable option for Me Specifically.
submitted by OkieRhio to DeadBedrooms [link] [comments]


2020.09.30 08:56 typhonicsymphonic I [38F] have not been in a real relationship for 16yrs

I’ve dated and have had TONS of no-strings-attached sex. I’m intelligent, funny, attractive, well-liked - by all accounts there is nothing “wrong” with me, yet...there is? Because I “should” be in at least a LTR by now? Some women my age have already been married, had children, and gotten divorced and here I am, still hooking up with dudes I meet on the Internet. I have absolutely ZERO desire to try dating because I feel like there’s no one left. If I never end up partnered ever again, I actually don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world because I don’t NEED anyone. Do people need to NEED someone to be in a relationship? Is that my problem? (I mean, I think I have several, but let’s start there).
submitted by typhonicsymphonic to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.09.30 08:18 sugardaddyseeking Being Bisexual - What is it About?

Being Bisexual - What is it About?
Most people think that bisexuality is a state of confusion, that it's a straight person on his or her way to being gay or vice versa. The truth is, bisexuality is a valid sexual orientation on its own.

https://preview.redd.it/cljel3iq98q51.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5c574f4fd1eca50767216da0775c41735d6e2daf
Bisexuality is different from bisexual dating sites. Bi-curious people are usually heterosexuals who are interested in "experimentation" with homosexuality. They are merely looking to try it and nothing more. Although some bi-curious people do end up bisexual, bi-curiosity doesn't exactly equate to bisexuality. There are also bi-permissive people. These people are generally heterosexual, but they claim to be open to pursuing a relationship with members of the same-sex.
Unlike homosexuality, bisexuality doesn't seem so disreputable in the eyes of society. There are even ancient cultures wherein bisexuality was the norm, and it wasn't seen as a problem as long as they eventually married someone of the opposite sex. Although bisexuality doesn't seem so disreputable in the eyes of most heterosexuals, the gay and lesbian community sees it differently. Most (not all) gays and lesbians view bisexuality as a stage of indecision. Sometimes, they even see bisexuals as people who are in denial of their own homosexuality. In fact, there's a joke that goes "Bi now, gay later." Even if some bisexuals do end up being homosexual, this isn't a common occurrence.
Usually, both homosexuals and heterosexuals have problems going out with bisexuals. They seem to fear that if they date a bisexual, they will be abandoned when the bisexual "switches sides". Because of prevalent biphobia, most bisexuals have problems or issues when dating. However, because of the invention of the internet, bisexuals can go to online dating sites to find other bisexuals or people who wouldn't mind dating bisexuals.
submitted by sugardaddyseeking to bisexualdatingwebsite [link] [comments]


2020.09.30 07:43 Random_Short_Dude I can say that I'm sure that I will not lose my virginity without paying

Just like title says, Im sure that no (normal) girl will ever find me attractive enough to be willing to have sex with me.
Long story short, as result of medical condition (Height growth hormone defiency) that I was treated for as kid I ended up being only 5'4", also it caused me to look very undeveloped. People dont give more than 13 years old... I am 21.
Girls are simply not attracted to guys who look like kids and dont get me wrong I'm not mad about it, I myself wouldnt date girl if she was in same situation as me because Im simply not attracted to kids lol.
So any guys on here that are also sure they will not lose their v-card and will become wizards?
P.S. what I mean as normal girl, is a girl that is not a pedophile. I had people on internet give me advices to look for woman that is pedo and trick her into having sex with me. Hell no im not gonna do that
submitted by Random_Short_Dude to virgin [link] [comments]


2020.09.30 05:22 fedup_throwaway37 Modern technology has actually made me feel a desire to do more.......

OK, I don't know if this sounds stupid or not, but recently, I've purchased some new things, a new laptop ($2,100) and a new TV (less than $400 but even other reviewers were shocked that such a great TV was so low in price).
Anyways, I'm reaching 25 years old, and I'm bummed because, I haven't really done anything in life, I'm lagging in real life.
I'm not looking for pity, I hate it, in fact, I hate people treating me pitiful without even knowing anything about me or what I'm going through (assumptions are made sometimes, like because of my job).
I've never had sex, I've never had a girlfriend, I've never even kissed. I almost kissed and had sex with a female friend when we were both 18, (wussed out) and had some LDRs, so I know I'm not completely unattractive/unfuckable to the entire female human race!
People tell me, stop worrying about sex and relationships. Fuck no! (no pun intended) Maybe I should lower it on the priority list, but I'm not going to just try and cut the desire or idea of it ever happening out of my life. I don't want to still be a kissless, dateless, virgin who's never had a girlfriend at 30! But I ALSO don't want having sex to be my only accomplishment either.
A little context on where I am in life:
I was never popular in grade/high school, went a full year or two with NO friends before (haven't had ANY IRL friends since graduating high school, which I'll touch more on later), didn't have a job before 21, still don't have my driver license (but made real progress after getting over a lot of the fear), recently started community college (but fell behind when it went online and haven't continued since COVID, I still plan on continuing even though I missed the fall semester), anything I feel a real decent desire to do is a "pipe dream" and therefore not a reliable way to earn a living income, I'm extremely insecure BECAUASE of my life circumstance, and I don't expect to have my parents support for too many more years (whether it's because they cut me off or just want to retire away from here).
I've been so isolated, physically, socially, I stopped even talking to my internet friends because I thought "I'll never see any of these people in real life anyway" so got too depressed and stop talking. I fell so behind, and out of place. My poor social skills are worsened by my insecurity. I could physically date even without a car to drive, I mean there IS Uber, I'm sick of relying on that (when my parents can't drive me) because of drivers refusing to wear masks and long wait times, and gas getting cheaper but Uber prices NOT going down with the cost of gas.
ANYWAYS, enough of my bitching (I can admit that I've done this a lot, I've pissed off friends who obviously thought higher of me than I did myself, yet no matter how much they tried to raised me up, I was stuck in my own poor me mindset, I mean it's obvious that there have been girls/women attracted to me, just never had any real life opportunities, except for the one I wussed out of).
Call me a boomer, (is 25 a boomer now? LOL) but I didn't realize some of the technology advancements that exist, because I don't make a decent income to afford that stuff (the laptop is for school, so that's why I spent so much on it, couldn't get what I needed budget friendly) and I don't have any friends to keep up with, and I don't even keep up with everything online anymore.
I enjoy videogames, and I absolutely refuse to give them up no matter what, they don't need to be my main part of life, but I will not quit them. But I have to keep my priorities straight too.
I think it's BULLSHIT, to have to give up things you love and enjoy just because you get older. I didn't get to enjoy a lot of normal youth things, why should I just have to skip them now?
I kind of have interest in trying to somehow get into a technology field? But I don't think I'm really smart enough too, and huge interest isn't enough, you have to have the brain and skills to make it a career. I just love the idea of progressing technology, innovation is AWESOME. I don't understand why some people are so against progression (technology isn't the only thing that needs to progress, but we're not talking about that).
I'm going for graphic design (that's why I bought this "Microsoft Surface Book" for $2,100). If I change my major and don't need it, I'll keep it anyway, I still might want to try things that require this type of PC (like animation).
Also I have OCD, which I'm on medication for (and for other things like anger issues from years of abuse) and sometimes they're harder to control and more severe. Getting off of the medication (one is an SSRI) apparently carries potentially long-term risks, mostly sexual dysfunction (genital anesthesia, loss of libido, pleasureless orgasm) but also cognitive and loss of emotions, as well as inability to experience any type of pleasure. I've experienced ALL OF THESE THINGS at times, and since I've been on the medication for so long (over 8 years, since I was 16) I'm worried that I'm much more likely to get it (there's a subreddit for it called PSSD) so you can understand what I'm talking about). I try to not worry too much about that now, because there's no way to guarantee preventing ANYTHING, and also it's not a guarantee (supposedly) that there is a correlation of length of usage and rate of long-term/permanent dysfunctions.
Even my parents have started talking about how I need to get laid and have a girlfriend.
It bothers me that I didn't get to do any of that in my teens (or early 20s) but since I can't redo time, I'm more worried about reaching my 30s and beyond still, inexperienced.
And no, I am not ready to go "pay for it" before I've really put REAL effort into trying to hookup/date any women. While grade/high school AND the internet (posting my pictures and talking to girls) has given me the feeling of me being OBJECTIVELY UGLY (which is apparently not as true as I was led to believe) I haven't had any opportunity to ACTUALLY TRY since graduating high school, so I guess I can't be CERTAIN that I can't get anyone?
Apparently I'm attractive to some, but not to many.........
I don't want to focus my life ENTIRELY on a career, sometimes I think that's best, but it'd be empty. Older people have even told me "Being extremely wealthy will not be worth having nobody at your funeral".
This was long.....
Edited: Removed the link to the PSSD subreddit, because I think it might have been preventing this thread from being seen.
submitted by fedup_throwaway37 to selfimprovement [link] [comments]


2020.09.30 02:01 throwra2arworht My (36M) fiancee (33F) loses her cool any time I lose my erection

I proposed to my girlfriend of just over a year a few weeks ago. Before her, I'd dated a bunch of women and had lots of casual sex for about a year. Prior to that I was sort of uninterested in sex and between the age of 22 and 34 I had sex less than half a dozen times. This led to lots of internet porn. I'm not sure if this distorted my sex drive though because I was able to sleep with a dozen women in the 9 months before I met my fiancee.
My fiancee and I have sort of a disconnect in discussing anything intellectual. She just disengages. I should also mention that she's the hottest woman I've ever slept with. So we have only a handful of topics to discuss and connect most strongly on sex. This leads to us having slightly more sex than I can reliably manage (or than my erection can) and every. single. time. I lose my erection, she flips out.
Last time this happened she broke off our cuddling and making out and changed into a bodysuit, short shorts, and heels. She returned to our room a few minutes later and just expected me to like straight up bone her no foreplay. I couldn't. She started yelling and blaming me for initiating then left the room.
I am also at fault here for engaging in sex speculatively. Like I'm not sure I'll get there, but yolo?
We have discussed this and she told me that her first thought when this happens is that it's something she did to cause me to lose my erection. I assured her that she's lovely and I find her to be the most beautiful woman I've ever met.
I am afraid to have sex with her now, because if I lose my boner I'll get blamed. I'm afraid to cuddle now, because I often get boners when we cuddle and I can't resist the attempt. I've considered Cialis and we're going to start seeing a sex therapist. Do the good people of Reddit have any advice for how we'd handle this?
tl;dr: the penalty for bad sex with my fiancee has become so extreme that I no longer want to try for good sex
submitted by throwra2arworht to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 22:28 Raymondlia Using the New York City Directory To Find Real Estate

The New-York City Directory, originally published in 1786, is the second extant directory of New YorkCity. It lists a total of 846 names under its categories. These are arranged according to their geographical location and time periods in New York City.
The New York Directory has been published for nearly 200 years and is one of the most useful sources of information regarding New York's history. It was originally created to keep tabs on the number of residents in New York City. Today, it has more of a function as it contains details about residents of the area. It also includes information about individuals who were born and/or lived in New York.
The New York Directory records every person's name, birth date, place of birth, sex, social status, marital status, social class, and last known mailing address. In addition, the directory reports the names, dates of birth, and place of birth of any child born in New York City, regardless of the person's sex. In addition, the directories also report the marital status of anyone who has lived in New York and has a biological child born there.
The New York Directory has always included the name of the person whose name is recorded in the list. It is usually not necessary to have a Social Security Number as part of the New York City Directory. It can be of particular importance if the Social Security Number is required by law or for some other reason.
If you have lived in New York or are considering living in New York for any number of reasons, then the New York City Directory is something that you should consider having printed out. This will allow you to know just who is in your neighborhood. You can also check to see if there are any people in your area who might be a danger to you.
Another service of the New York City Directory is that it allows you to find out who owns a piece of property. If you are buying a house in New York and it has been listed for sale before, then you can use the directories to find out who the previous owners were. This information is particularly helpful for buyers because they can be able to see if there were problems with the property ownership.
Finally, if you are an individual looking to get into real estate in New York, then the New York City Directory is invaluable. If you are looking for an apartment, you can search for apartments that are available. This information will give you the ability to contact people who live in the building and also let you know the size of the units.
Because the New York City Directory is such an important resource for many different types of people, it is certainly something to think about purchasing. There are so many places to look for information about, it can be hard to know where to begin!
The New York City Directory is the official listing of properties in the city. This is information that you need if you want to buy real estate in New York. This information is not available in a paper form anywhere else, so it is absolutely vital that you have access to this information.
Because the New York City Directory is the official listing of properties in the city, it is important to check it on a regular basis. You should also check it to see what is available in certain neighborhoods or areas of the city. This will ensure that you do not miss out on any opportunities that you may have missed. While you might have a limited budget for purchasing real estate, you can still be able to make your New York City purchase with the right tools.
Once you have a New York City listing, you can start checking out listings on the internet. If you live in New York City but you are considering buying a home elsewhere, then you can visit several websites and look at the various listings. By keeping an eye out for the prices that are listed, you will be able to determine which homes are going for less than what you are paying.
When you are looking at real estate in New York, you should take some time to look at all of the listings that are available to you. This will ensure that you don't miss out on any opportunities. By following these simple steps, you can save a lot of money by ensuring that you are getting the best price possible.
submitted by Raymondlia to u/Raymondlia [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 21:45 nightmarecake A long time ago I posted in JustNoMIL about how my MIL doesnt even know she has a grandchild. This is an update.

So what happenned before was, despite being the one to ask me to marry, my husband was constantly treating the relationship as something he could throw away.
I asked him to please give me something that shows he is serious about the relationship and all-in. I expected him to offer something like starting that joint bank account the way he always said he wanted to. Instead he said he'll get me pregnant.
Later on, he acted like the baby was totally my decision and like he was clear that he didnt want it at all.
Despite being a 27 year old man, he was weirdly scared of his mother and would do all the ridiculous things she'd tell him. For example, one time she told him to get a haircut. I asked to get a haircut together with me 2 days later, instead. This caused her to throw a screaming fit and force him to immediately get it right then and there, with her.
He put insane effort in, to hide his daughter, from her. In fact, she doesn't even know we were married. When I was pregnant, the husband would try and force me to hide my bump. Once I had the kid, he'd try to force me to look around before I got on every metro, bus, before I walk down a street - and in general negatively impact many other aspects of my life.
So here's the actual update.
He'd constantly be working on getting a spine, and would fool me and lie to me to trick me into believing he'd made positive changes. For example, one of many such tricks was to proudly tell me that he finally removed his mother's access from his bank account. And I later find out that what actually happenned was that his old bank account just got closed. And a little while later, mommy had access to his new account too. He told me it was because he needed her to deposit money whenever he overdrafted his account. Which happenned once or twice a week. Ugh.
So y'all are probably wondering why I didn't leave this guy.
I was really in love. When I fall in love I am incredibly loyal and completely a ride-or-die mentality. Thats how true love is.
But although I am like this, of course there is still a point where I will choose to end the love after being deliberately mistreated over and over again.
He was refusing to see a psychiatrist to work on positive changes. He was refusing to make positive changes on his own as well, either lying as in the previous example, or refusing outright. After a certain number of refusals, I decided it was time to get him out of my apartment and tentatively stop the relationship, at least as a "trial run" not as a permanent end.
What really made me make the final decision, the useful info I want others to take away from this story, is to try and compare how bad it is with the SO, to how bad it is to be all alone on your own, without the SO. Figure out a way to get away from the SO for a month. I also recommend making a tinder profile (even if you dont use it or reply, just as a proof-of-concept) to have valid proof right before your eyes, that no, you wont have to be alone for the rest of your life. I guarantee you will see some swipes on your profile, cheer up, get more hope, before you exit out of the app.
So basically, after a while away from him. I realized:
So I made the [trial run] end to our relationship, [permanent]. We have been separated for 6 months now and can get a divorce at the end of the year. The proceedings have been really cordial. He is happy as heck to sign away rights of the daughter, to me and just go move back in with his mom. We dont have property to split. He has been paying child support properly every time, especially because he's scared that if he doesnt, I'll tell his mommy about the secret grandchild.
Once we were officially separated for a few months, I decided to start going on dates. Downloaded tinder and actually used the profile I made, this time! I expected to just have a lot of fuckboys try and get into my pants. But it turns out that fuckboys are really easy to spot and weed out. They either talk real macho and show off their stuff. Or they talk normal but react weirdly badly when asked to refrain from sexual remarks. In general if anyone makes a remark even something medium, like "wow you look so slim, wish I could see how bomb you look like under that shirt" I would just hit em with "uh... is that really how you usually talk to a lady? ): " and see if they overreact. I ended up talking to several nice boys via text over the course of a month or two, ended up meeting 5 or so, all incredibly respectful, and several of them ended up being very serious about me. I was stunned that men existed who had their shit together and were single and looking.
I really enjoyed going on dates and having freedom in my life. After dating for a while, I met someone who was both a great person AND as interested in me as I was in them. We really clicked. We both hoard books, fall asleep all the time, and love art. His personality is so easygoing, helpful, and sweet. I would rant and rave about how cool his ideas, experiences, personality, is but I think he'd like to keep that private. He has his shit together. I was shockeddd that men like that, exist. The test of a relationship is how y'all deal with problems that arise, and we figured out a chill and mostly relaxed way to deal with issues. Holy crap, its possible to meet people who deal with issues without arguing! Wow!
I have learned to not obsess over a relationship as badly as I did in the past. I have learned to be super enjoying my hobbies, kid, and job, even while single. Even if me and this dude don't work out, I know life will be great and my future will be great. I dont really believe that we have to "learn to be ok with potentially being relationshipless for the rest of ones life" like the way some ppl on the internet preach. Imo, humans are social and need a partner. But I do believe that no matter if im alone or taken - that I can enjoy life. I now know that whether its this relationship forever, or even if the relationship ends - ill eventually find someone to be happy with. And this makes me so much more chill during a relationship and really relax and feel sure of myself and safe. I dont put pressure on my partner and im really really proud of that.
And if you've read all the way down this far, good job, you're privy to a fun bonus update:
It turns out that all this time, I had really severe ADHD. My husband would constantly berate me for walking into walls, losing items so much, accidentially dropping and breaking stuff, and he would always tell me "why cant you just PAY ATTENTION where youre going!!" and I remember explaining to him that in order to do that I would have to move in slo-mo all the time and keep my eyes super focused on where I put my arms and legs and that I cannot do this passively and he was just telling me "you sound ridiculous!!! just look where youre going!! thats IT! thats all you have to fucking do!" ... so flash forward years later. It is now. I went to my PCP asking for a referral to a sleep clinic for help with how I fall asleep accidentially throughout the day despite 10 hrs of sleep each night all my life. She sent me to a psychiatrist first. Psychiatrist asks a million questions, I mention the conversation I have with my husband. Then she starts asking like twice as many questions. Turns out I got adhd and the adhd is so bad that it causes extreme fatigue. And she gave me a small amount of medicine daily that wakes me up and makes my mind alert. Like wow. Life is so much more relaxed now.
Another bonus update. I tried therapy with a few different therapists alongside seeing the psychiatrist. Therapy isnt as amazing as reddit cracks it up to be. It totally didnt help me. Its NOT like on TV where therapists tell you these revelations about your life and youre all in denial about it. I sat around chatting with each of the psychologists about life and what healthy coping mechanism I was trying out that week, what positive life changes I made that week, how trauma affected me, it was really nothing new. They didnt suggest anything that I didnt already read 1000 times on reddit and wasnt already actively doing and improving on. I was kinda sad and disappointed cuz I was really excited for therapy. If you already are able to admit your own problems to yourself and not be in denial, I suggest seeing a psychiatrist instead of a psychologist tbh.
muahaha, no tldr here !
submitted by nightmarecake to JustNoSO [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 21:40 fedup_throwaway37 Modern technology has actually made me feel a desire to do more.......

OK, I don't know if this sounds stupid or not, but recently, I've purchased some new things, a new laptop ($2,100) and a new TV (less than $400 but even other reviewers were shocked that such a great TV was so low in price).
Anyways, I'm reaching 25 years old, and I'm bummed because, I haven't really done anything in life, I'm lagging in real life.
I'm not looking for pity, I hate it, in fact, I hate people treating me pitiful without even knowing anything about me or what I'm going through (assumptions are made sometimes, like because of my job).
I've never had sex, I've never had a girlfriend, I've never even kissed. I almost kissed and had sex with a female friend when we were both 18, (wussed out) and had some LDRs, so I know I'm not completely unattractive/unfuckable to the entire female human race!
People tell me, stop worrying about sex and relationships. Fuck no! (no pun intended) Maybe I should lower it on the priority list, but I'm not going to just try and cut the desire or idea of it ever happening out of my life. I don't want to still be a kissless, dateless, virgin who's never had a girlfriend at 30! But I ALSO don't want having sex to be my only accomplishment either.
A little context on where I am in life:
I was never popular in grade/high school, went a full year or two with NO friends before (haven't had ANY IRL friends since graduating high school, which I'll touch more on later), didn't have a job before 21, still don't have my driver license (but made real progress after getting over a lot of the fear), recently started community college (but fell behind when it went online and haven't continued since COVID, I still plan on continuing even though I missed the fall semester), anything I feel a real decent desire to do is a "pipe dream" and therefore not a reliable way to earn a living income, I'm extremely insecure BECAUASE of my life circumstance, and I don't expect to have my parents support for too many more years (whether it's because they cut me off or just want to retire away from here).
I've been so isolated, physically, socially, I stopped even talking to my internet friends because I thought "I'll never see any of these people in real life anyway" so got too depressed and stop talking. I fell so behind, and out of place. My poor social skills are worsened by my insecurity. I could physically date even without a car to drive, I mean there IS Uber, I'm sick of relying on that (when my parents can't drive me) because of drivers refusing to wear masks and long wait times, and gas getting cheaper but Uber prices NOT going down with the cost of gas.
ANYWAYS, enough of my bitching (I can admit that I've done this a lot, I've pissed off friends who obviously thought higher of me than I did myself, yet no matter how much they tried to raised me up, I was stuck in my own poor me mindset, I mean it's obvious that there have been girls/women attracted to me, just never had any real life opportunities, except for the one I wussed out of).
Call me a boomer, (is 25 a boomer now? LOL) but I didn't realize some of the technology advancements that exist, because I don't make a decent income to afford that stuff (the laptop is for school, so that's why I spent so much on it, couldn't get what I needed budget friendly) and I don't have any friends to keep up with, and I don't even keep up with everything online anymore.
I enjoy videogames, and I absolutely refuse to give them up no matter what, they don't need to be my main part of life, but I will not quit them. But I have to keep my priorities straight too.
I think it's BULLSHIT, to have to give up things you love and enjoy just because you get older. I didn't get to enjoy a lot of normal youth things, why should I just have to skip them now?
I kind of have interest in trying to somehow get into a technology field? But I don't think I'm really smart enough too, and huge interest isn't enough, you have to have the brain and skills to make it a career. I just love the idea of progressing technology, innovation is AWESOME. I don't understand why some people are so against progression (technology isn't the only thing that needs to progress, but we're not talking about that).
I'm going for graphic design (that's why I bought this "Microsoft Surface Book" for $2,100). If I change my major and don't need it, I'll keep it anyway, I still might want to try things that require this type of PC (like animation).
Also I have OCD, which I'm on medication for (and for other things like anger issues from years of abuse) and sometimes they're harder to control and more severe. Getting off of the medication (one is an SSRI) apparently carries potentially long-term risks, mostly sexual dysfunction (genital anesthesia, loss of libido, pleasureless orgasm) but also cognitive and loss of emotions, as well as inability to experience any type of pleasure. I've experienced ALL OF THESE THINGS at times, and since I've been on the medication for so long (over 8 years, since I was 16) I'm worried that I'm much more likely to get it (there's a subreddit for it called PSSD) so you can understand what I'm talking about). I try to not worry too much about that now, because there's no way to guarantee preventing ANYTHING, and also it's not a guarantee (supposedly) that there is a correlation of length of usage and rate of long-term/permanent dysfunctions.
Even my parents have started talking about how I need to get laid and have a girlfriend.
It bothers me that I didn't get to do any of that in my teens (or early 20s) but since I can't redo time, I'm more worried about reaching my 30s and beyond still, inexperienced.
And no, I am not ready to go "pay for it" before I've really put REAL effort into trying to hookup/date any women. While grade/high school AND the internet (posting my pictures and talking to girls) has given me the feeling of me being OBJECTIVELY UGLY (which is apparently not as true as I was led to believe) I haven't had any opportunity to ACTUALLY TRY since graduating high school, so I guess I can't be CERTAIN that I can't get anyone?
Apparently I'm attractive to some, but not to many.........
I don't want to focus my life ENTIRELY on a career, sometimes I think that's best, but it'd be empty. Older people have even told me "Being extremely wealthy will not be worth having nobody at your funeral".
This was long.....
submitted by fedup_throwaway37 to selfimprovement [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 18:02 JustNoiseOnTheWires We hit the reset button but I'm(F29) still tense and paranoid about his(M28) habits. I need help breaking my destructive cognitive cycle of paranoia.

We have newly entered an understanding of honesty, sharing the truth even if it might hurt the other person because "trying to protect them" from hurt like that is inherently manipulative even if it's "for good reasons" in it's fundamentals, it shows a discredit to the emotional/ mental fortitude of your partner and what you can both withstand as a team. If we are going to fortify our relationship again we need to both be doing equal work and that starts with honesty.
Even though we have this understanding and he is trying NoFap/Porn for his own curiosity and he has been candid about it i can't seem to silence the paranoia I feel every time he's alone.
I need help with -MY- trust issues, he broke it(i had a hand in his behaviour) but it's my choice to stay and ultimately down to me to trust him again. I feel like the next stage of this is me learning how to better handle my paranoia. I don't want to condition the needed response to always check his phone or Internet history - that kind of behaviour will only self fulfill the response I don't want to happen (he would just get better at hiding it) so what can I do to slowly build my confidence in this area again?
I know it takes time and im not trying to rush it but i want to start building good habits WITH him and I feel like this paranoia in me could create problems later.
He's almost like another person now(closer to himself when we were dating 8 years ago), he's more carefree and looks and feels lighter, we've had more emotionally connecting and satisfying sex in the past week and a half that we have all year. I think he might be willing to accept (soon) that porn was killing our intimacy.
Context: We hit our DDay event about 10 days ago. He finally admitted he had been pathologically lying to me to make things/his life easier even to the point of gaslighting me. (He had his realisation moment when I pointed out that it was categorically and by the very definition gaslighting and he took that into some reflection - sincerely apologised and admitted that he didn't realise how bad he had gotten with his lying to smooth things over. A new promise made by him for no more boundaries, no more half truths and only candid honest responses abou his thoughts and feelings. I've been working actively for this exact breakthrough for literally 8 months now)
I've been craving intimacy in our relationship for years and slowly we developed a dead bedroom which is both of our faults in different capacities. He took to pornography as a stress relief, opportunistic exercise whenever I left the house or when he could sneak some alone time in the bathroom, 4 long poops in a day and you start to question - is there bowel problems (my brother has them and I'm hyper vigilant about them) or is something else going on, and while most of them WERE poops, 1 in 3 was him DIY/PMO with Porn
Long story short (too late) lockdown has given me the opportunity to figure this out - I never would have learned that our problem was his habit and stress at bottling things up, keeping me out and lying about it. Regardless of what caused it - we're both wanting to keep our relationship so both willing to work together.
Any suggestions of how I can change my conditioned mental thinking patterns and try reduce the paranoia I feel would be deeply appreciated.
Thank you in advance.
EDIT: Dead Bedroom read as Bed Bedroom - i changed it to make sense.
submitted by JustNoiseOnTheWires to loveafterporn [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 17:54 ThrowRA_WorriedSwim New-ish Boyfriend is pushing our relationship apart when he is under any stress

Hey all,
I have never asked internet strangers for advice like this before! I talked to a couple friends but really need an unbiased view at this.
Near the beginning of the lockdown I (M27) met this great guy (M29). We began dating in early May. Heading into month 5 of this (which has been pure bliss - honeymoon phase?) a few things happened in his life that have stressed him out. He had a lot of responsibility tossed onto him quickly.
I like to believe I've been nothing short of supportive - whether that is advice, listening, giving a bit of space, doing endless favours, etc.
The problems (well, what I think are problems) have popped in the last few weeks. We stopped having sex, which at first he said was because the heat wave was making him tired, then it was because of having company over, and it now it has evolved to him showing no affection or intimacy. If I bring this up, he says to not ask questions and to quit being "cringy" (!!!). We don't cuddle in bed.
He ignores my phone calls - we only talk on the phone if HE wants to. He changes his mind on a dime - we can have dinner plans one minute and next thing I know, he says to go home.
Any favours I ask of him are always a nuisance to him. He has expressed he hates being asked to do things.
Finally the icing on the cake was him saying he is the wrong person for me and I should find someone else after he had a "bad day". We chatted and he said he didn't actually want this to be over with me. I believe it, for the most part.
I like to pride myself in being pretty intelligent and to notice when something is not right. I don't want to be blinded by love and ignore these sudden warning signs. If my friends were going through this I would probably tell them to end it. I am torn though.. I know what he is capable of. He's so full of love. I've had a couple long term relationships in the past and my relationship with this guy has swept me off my feet. I didn't jump into it out of nowhere. I gave it a lot of thought, we communicated our needs and feelings, and it was the most beautiful summer of my life. I am careful with my feelings. Been there done that!
Basically, I want to know if you guys would hold off and see if this is just a little rough patch for him and if it will go back to normal, or if I just swallow my pride and call it quits. I don't want to give up on him, but I am getting the feeling that either this was happenign from the start and I let love get in the way, or if this is just a sign of what the future would look like with him since the honeymoon phase has petered out.
submitted by ThrowRA_WorriedSwim to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 17:46 NOFAPSuccess2018 I AM HEALED MY BROTHERS!!!!!!!

Last night was the proof I have needed for so long. The worst is long gone, and the best days ARE NOW. I had sex twice in 3 hours, no anxiety, no ED, and even better, NO PE!!!!!! It was amazing to feel normal again. And absolutely no orgasm hangover. There is no victory line in this recovery challenge......but if there were I just sprinted across that fucker. I changed two things: I quit porn and I quit fapping. The rest of it was replacing my old bad habits with good habits( running, hiking, weight lifting) , and UNPLUGGING from the goddamn internet. Stay off it as much as possible! Stop overstimulating your brain all the time and it will reboot faster! That and just being patient. Healing takes time. You will heal! I did! This is you! At a later date! Stick with it my friends, it is ALL WORTH IT!!!!! :)
It took me this long.....it may only take you 43 days, or 98, or 165, or 270....who cares! Just commit!
Much love, J.
submitted by NOFAPSuccess2018 to NoFap [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 17:03 ThrowRAbalaton I (31M) need to cut contact with a friend (30F) of 5 years for the sake of my marriage, but don't know how

My wife (31F) and I have been together for 8 years, married for 5. Around the same time I married my wife, I became friends with a work colleague, which led to a very close friendship. As we are both into MMOs and not much into partying, our interactions outside of the internet were limited to work, where we obviously spent as much time together as we could, as it simply was fun (mutual lunches, always sit next to each other in meetings, etc). Outside of work, we always kept each other up to date on our lives: we played games together, chatted a lot on a daily basis, were talking to each other while playing different games, sharing experiences.
The days on which my friend and I didn't at least write once to each other in the past 5 years, can probably be counted on 10 fingers. My wife and my friend's husband both found our interactions a bit weird, but did not think much of it. Looking back, I see there were moments where I was obviously in the wrong. When something exciting happened to me or I saw a cool meme, my tendency was to share it with my friend first and with my wife after - or only if it was something very significant rather than a quick "hey look, that's cool, right?"
Two years ago, my friend got a new job in a different city and moved there with her husband. We don't work together anymore. However, for the past two years, we still kept our internet audio and chat interactions on a daily basis.
Six months ago, my marriage got a bit in trouble. Due to lack of communication, which was mostly my fault, I started distancing myself from my wife. My sex drive towards her decreased, I felt like the passion was gone, planning divorce in secret rather than talking, and overall, I was a pretty bad husband, taking my amazing wife for granted.
In this time, I was getting intrusive thoughts of having sex with my friend. I preferred masturbating to thoughts of having sex with my friend rather than having sex with my wife. Obviously, my friend never knew and still doesn't know about it.
Luckily, my wife and I worked through our issues, part of which involved me being 100% honest with her. I love my wife and want to spend the rest of my life with her. However, she is still pretty crushed by my sexual thoughts regarding my friend. My daily interactions with my friend are really not making it better. Honestly, I know I should have distanced myself from my friend once these thoughts came up, but I obviously didn't.
I can live without my friend for the sake of my marriage. It would also reassure my hurt wife how important our marriage is to me. However, my friend needs an explanation why I'm cutting contact, and I really don't feel like telling her it's because I've been chocking the chicken to thoughts and pictures of her for like six months.
Question: Do you have ideas on what would be a good way to cut contact with her in an adult manner?
TL;DR: I beat the tiger to thoughts of a close friend, neglected my wife and was a terrible husband for half a year. Keeping contact with that friend would not be helpful for my marriage. How do I cut her off in an adult manner?
submitted by ThrowRAbalaton to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 14:17 geekx10 I'm in a sexless relationship

I don't tell anyone this in real life (anymore), but me (22m) and my girlfriend (19) never have sex with each other. We did it once when we started dating last year, but we haven't done it ever again. we're both fine with that, and neither of us care for sex that much. we're both working full time jobs and when we come home from work all we do is play video games or watch anime/movies. the only reason I ever had sex with her at first was because I thought it was necessary to do in a relationship. but now i just don't give a fuck.
whenever i tell anyone this on the internet i get a lot of hate for it, and people calling me...a certain word that starts with fa....
i just don't care for sex, and neither does my girlfriend. i'd rather just sit down and play monster hunter with her or watch a movie. the only person i ever told this to was my 16 y/o brother and he called me gay, which makes no sense whatsoever. neither of us care for sex, and fuck society for thinking this is weird.
submitted by geekx10 to confessions [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 13:26 makeitlovely- Daily song discussion 35: A Change of Heart

Hello, today's song is A Change of Heart!
So this is exactly what it sounds like (see original post here). I'll try to post a new song every day and we can discuss anything and everything to do with the song. You can talk about the background of the song, it’s meaning and influences, your own interpretation, your favourite part, links to best live performances, the video clip, your personal stories, self-references (I am sure there are lots of newer fans who don’t know all of these), what you thought when you first heard it? Even song recommendations (if you like this song you might like..) You get the idea!
Day 35:
Track title: A Change of Heart
Album: ILIWYS
Release date: February 22, 2016
Music Video: https://youtu.be/trbwqF0d7NA
Description:
“A Change of Heart” details the stages of falling out of love with someone. When the infatuation fades, you see them for who they truly are, and not who you thought they were.
It premiered on February 22nd, 2016 during Annie Mac’s Hottest Record on BBC Radio 1. Drummer George Daniel defined the “narrative” song as being by far “the most simple song” on their sophomore record. Frontman Matty Healy described it as a “pure ballad”:
It’s such a simple song – three notes – and the truth. We wanted it to [have] serious conviction. It turned into a very atypical “1975” song, being very sentimental, very self-aware, and as beautiful as we can make it.
The song incorporates concepts and lyrics from three older tracks by The 1975: “The City,” “Robbers,” and “Sex.” The official lyrics were confirmed through the band’s Twitter.
Lyrics:
Are we awake?
Am I too old to be this stoned?
Was it your breasts from the start?
They played a part
For goodness sake
I wasn't told you'd be this cold
Now it's my time to depart
And I just had a change of heart

I'll quote "on the road" like a twat
And wind my way out of the city
Finding a girl who is equally pretty won't be hard
Oh, I just had a change of heart

You smashed a glass into pieces
And that's around the time I left
And you were coming across as clever
Then you lit the wrong end of your cigarette
You said I'm full of diseases
Your eyes were full of regret
And then you took a picture of your salad
And put it on the Internet

And she said, "I've been so worried about you lately
You look shit and you smell a bit
You're mad thinking you could ever save me
Not looking like that"

You used to have a face straight out of a magazine
Now you just look like anyone
I just had a change of heart
I feel as though I was deceived
I never found love in the city
I just sat in self-pity and cried in the car
Oh, I just had a change of heart

Then she said, "I've been so worried 'bout you lately
You were fit, but you're losing it
You played a part, 'this is how it starts'"
Oh, I just had a change of heart

I just had a change of heart
I just had a change of heart
I just had a change of heart
Oh, I just had a change of heart
I just had a change of heart
I just had a change of heart
I just had a change of heart
I just had a change of heart

\All info is taken from Genius.com*
submitted by makeitlovely- to the1975 [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 06:38 tohaveandtoholdjk Dealing with apathy 6+ months past d-day

Anyone else just suddenly stopped caring? My (24F) husband (27m) is a sex addict, we’ve been married just over a year. He lost interest in having sex with me like 2 months after the wedding, never came to bed with me, didn’t pitch in with household chores, just completely checked out of the relationship 2 months into married life.
I found out the day after my birthday that he had been masturbating daily (refused to have sex on my birthday and it had been over a week), while looking at ig pictures of my friends, his friends, my family, his step sister, tons of celebrities, sometimes porn, was getting nudes from strangers on the internet, sending messages to girls on ig hoping to spark an emotional affair, checking prices/availability at massage parlors, anonymous posts soliciting hookups/sexual favors, cat fishing women on tinder, basically everything you can possibly do without actually physically meeting up with someone. He’s very overweight and insecure so I think that was his holdup. All of this behavior happened before and during our relationship and into our marriage (the catfishing stopped when we were dating).
Anyway. He’s in recovery with SA, he’s in therapy, has done the full disclosure, is willing to do polygraphs and STD tests, overall he’s compliant now. He’s stopped getting defensive and making excuses and is doing everything “right” now. He’s realized that (shocker!) I actually have some value. He’s realized that I shouldn’t have been treated the way he had treated me. That I deserve a million times better than him. He’s willing to do whatever I ask him to do to make it work.
But I’m just completely checked out. If he told me today that he slept with a prostitute yesterday I would probably just shrug my shoulders and tell him that I hope she was good. He’s had sexual fantasies about 80% of my friends. We can never go on double dates or hang out with my friends because I know he’ll be thinking about how good it would be if they gave him head. We can’t even spend time with his family for the holidays because I know he’ll take every opportunity he can to check out his step sister. He’s masturbated to his best friend’s wife. My little sister. It’s so beyond disgusting.
But I grew up in a very conservative Christian family where you do NOT divorce EVER, if someone was divorced they could never live it down in my family. My parents taught me that if a spouse cheated and they wanted to reconcile, the betrayed spouse had to forgive them. The only right to divorce is if someone cheats and then wants to leave the marriage. So I think I’m dealing with a lot of what was taught to me from a young age and that’s making me feel guilty for wanting to leave my marriage, but I want to be out of this marriage more than anything.
submitted by tohaveandtoholdjk to survivinginfidelity [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 04:35 RainbowRaspberrys Day 8

Hi no fap community, I almost forgot about reddit but I’m so proud of myself I had to share it with someone. This is the longest I’ve gone so far and it is amazing. I feel so much more full of energy and feel so much more motivated and I feel better about my looks! But that’s not what I’m really proud of, what I’m really proud of is that I no longer see women as sexual objects. Before when I saw someone attractive all I could think about was sex. But now I have absolutely no interest in it, if I start to date the last thing on my mind would be sex. Even seeing girls on the internet naked or anything doesn’t interest me. I’m so proud that I’m a step closer to respecting women for who they are and not what they look like! And I’m so happy that I have no motivation to masterbaute. Thanks for listening!
submitted by RainbowRaspberrys to NoFap [link] [comments]


2020.09.29 00:07 normancrane A Dwarf Stood At The Door [1]

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 <-- You are here.
Chapter 2

- - -

I’m a nervous person. I took up smoking to stop biting my nails. It didn’t work, and now I have two bad habits. Usually I don’t even have a reason for the biting, I just get anxious and chewing off bits of myself calms me down. It’s vaguely cannibalistic. My wife hates it. She used to check my hands before bed and then refuse to have sex with me if I didn’t pass the inspection. I can live without sex, but not without biting my nails or smoking. She thinks I cheated on her. She also thinks I’m a coward, but in her defence she has no idea that I saved her life. Right now she’s asleep because it’s three in the morning, and I’m out on the balcony having a cigarette and trying to figure out the best way to confess to a crime. The thing that keeps distracting me is the moon. It’s as yellow as my dentist says my teeth are going to be if I don’t stop with the cigarettes. Frankly I think drinking coffee is worse for discolourations than smoking, but whatever. My thesis sponsor says I pepper my casual writing with slang to balance the rigidity of my academic prose. She calls it my “learned” prose. I call it my thecal style.
Anyway, I’m getting off topic. I was describing the yellowness of the moon. Tom Waits has a good line about it being the colour of a coffee stain, and that’s about right. The night’s bright as far as nights go but that moon keeps staring at me like a jaundiced eyeball. I should have had a drink before coming out here. I’d go in and get one but I’m afraid I’ll wake my wife, and she’ll blink and her hair will look like a leafless winter tree surrounding a Grumpy Cat face. That’s a proper noun, Grumpy Cat. It has its own Wikipedia page, like Napoleon and Georg Hegel. The article starts: “Tardar Sauce (April 4, 2012 – May 14, 2019), nicknamed Grumpy Cat, was an American Internet celebrity cat. She was known for her permanently 'grumpy' facial appearance, which was caused by an underbite and feline dwarfism.” Keep that in mind when you read my confession because it’s a crazy fucking world we live in.
My thesis sponsor says I never make sufficiently elegant segues. She says my paragraphs are too long and that my conclusions come at the reader out of nowhere like argumental hyenas. I’m surrounded by difficult women. I’m reconsidering my confession, but that moon keeps reflecting its piss coloured light at me and I’m sick of just writing my thesis, sentence by footnoted sentence. Theses. It even sounds vile. If any of my neighbours are watching they probably think I’m ridiculous sitting out here in my boxers and bathrobe, smoking cigarette after cigarette and typing on a laptop, but in my defence it’s the twenty-first century and this is how twenty-first century murderers let it all out. I used to think it ridiculous that anyone could say the moon is made of cheese, but now I kind of get it. I’m hungry and I have a heavy heart. Two days ago I overpowered a level twenty-six dwarf, stabbed it in the neck, beat it with a shovel and sliced open its throat before transferring what remained of its body to a 3.5” diskette that Wayne and I secretly uploaded to a computer in the library.
Wayne’s my best friend and accomplice. He owns a little computer repair shop in town that I spend time in whenever my wife gets her Grumpy Cat face, and that’s where I’ll start my confession.
It was a Monday afternoon and some guy came in with an old IBM Thinkpad that he’d bought off Ebay and that he wanted Wayne to fix. “What’s the problem?” Wayne asked.
“BIOS doesn’t work,” the guy said.
Wayne booted the laptop and the BIOS was password protected. “What’s the password?”
“How should I know? That’s why I came here,” the guy said.
“What am I supposed to do?” Wayne asked.
“Hack that shit.”
Wayne traded him a newer, shittier used Dell for it and the guy signed a contract and walked out happy.
I asked Wayne what he was going to do with the Thinkpad.
“Sell it,” he said. “To someone who doesn’t know what a BIOS is, for more than I paid for that Dell.”
Wayne could do that, make money while making two people happy. I didn’t have that kind of business sense. My wife said it was because nobody took me seriously the way they took Wayne seriously. I asked her why. She said it was because Wayne had dark, curly hair whereas I had blonde hair that was so thick and straight it made me look boyish and perpetually out of date. “Would you want to be with a guy like Wayne instead of a guy like me?” I asked. “If I could be with a guy like Wayne I never would have married you,” she said.
“Hey, Wayne,” I called out. He was sorting invoices and I was sitting behind a table in the far corner of the store, working on my thesis. He turned around holding a bunch of papers. “Have you ever slept with Annie?”
“No, man.”
“But would you?”
“I might,” he said. “Are you offering?”
I said I wasn’t. He went back to sorting invoices.
My laptop screen flickered.
Wayne started humming the main theme from Super Mario Bros.
My laptop died.
“Hey, Wayne,” I said. “How much do you want for that Thinkpad?”
He read an invoice. “One hundred sixty.”
“I know what a BIOS is,” I said.
“Is yours dead?”
“Yeah.”
He took the Thinkpad off the counter, walked over to the table I was sitting behind and set the Thinkpad down. “On the house, buddy.”
I picked up my dead laptop. “At least take mine for parts.”
“It’s cool. I did sleep with Annie once. It was before you got married but it’s still probably worth a Thinkpad,” he said.
Wayne’s a pretty good guy and I didn’t care about the BIOS. I just wanted something with metal hinges that I could write on. I didn’t even need a hard drive because I ran Puppy Linux off a USB stick and saved all my files to Dropbox. My thesis sponsor didn’t think that was possible. When I plugged my USB stick into her desktop’s USB port and booted entirely into her RAM, she said, “Why did you make my Windows lose its pleasant appearance?”
I never should have booted that Thinkpad.
It had a USB port but the boot order was apparently hard drive first, so I booted into Windows XP and explored the file structure for a while because it was a form of procrastination that didn’t weigh on my conscience. There wasn’t much installed.
“You should wipe the drive before you do anything,” Wayne said.
I went down the list of directories in Windows Explorer. It looked pretty much like a fresh install. Other than the operating system, the laptop also had an old version of Office and an anti-virus suite installed. I changed the views options in Explorer to what I liked: detailed view and show hidden files checked on. “By the way, what are the specs on that thing?” Wayne asked.
“Hang on,” I said. Something had caught my eye. There was a hidden directory in root filled with text documents numbered from one to sixty-four. I opened the first. It held a single character. e. I opened the next. 8. I opened a few more at random and the contents of those were single characters, too. “Wayne,” I said.
“Yo?”
“There’s a hidden folder in C: and it has sixty-four text files with a number or letter in each.”
Wayne put down his invoices. “Exactly sixty-four?”
“Yeah,” I said. I noticed something else. “And it’s strange, because the creation dates of the files are all exactly two months apart.”
“That’s like a span of ten years.”
Nothing else on the hard drive caught my eye.
“It could be the BIOS password,” Wayne said. “Those get up to sixty-four characters long.” He scratched his chin. “But before you check that, do a search for jpegs. Sometimes people leave naked pics of their wives and girlfriends sitting around.”
“There’s plenty of those online.”
“But those are public, buddy. These would be private, known by only a few people and us.”
There weren’t any photos.
I took out my phone, opened a fresh document and typed in the characters from the numbered files on the Thinkpad hard drive. Then I rebooted and pressed the key to get into the BIOS. A password prompt came up. I entered the sixty-four characters staring at me from my phone screen and hit Enter. Bingo. Wayne was waiting for a response. “We’re in,” I said.
Except we weren’t in.
The screen had become a black command prompt. “Wait, I think the BIOS is broken,” I said.
Wayne came over to take a look.
He hit a button.
Welcome, adventurer. What is your name? 
“The fuck?”
Wayne hit another key.
Error. Name cannot be blank. Welcome, adventurer. What is your name? 
“It looks like some kind of role-playing game,” I said, stating the obvious.
“Reboot again,” Wayne said.
I did. The text disappeared, the hard drive whirred, and when the Thinkpad returned to life it booted straight to the same command prompt and the same line of text without even asking for the password.
“Does it boot off a USB?” Wayne asked.
“It didn’t before,” I said. But I tried it anyway. No luck. The screen turned off, turned on and then we were back at:
Welcome, adventurer. What is your name? 
We tried booting off a CD.
Welcome, adventurer. What is your name? 
“Well, that’s a useless piece of junk,” Wayne said.
So much for writing my thesis.
“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” I asked.
“Never, bud.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. But keeping in mind I’m not a technician, just a guy who sells used computers and sometimes installs Skype and Acrobat Reader for people who type with one finger, I’d say the thing’s been set to boot off a device with some sort of game on it.”
“You mean we set it to that,” I said. “Because it booted from the hard drive before.”
“By typing in the password?”
“I guess.”
“Then either we changed the boot order without knowing it or this is the BIOS,” Wayne said. “Type something in. See what happens.”
I dangled my fingers over the keyboard, trying to think of a good name for an adventurer.
Wayne cleared his throat.
I typed in John, and quickly followed with Grousewater.
John Grousewater, an envoy from his excellency, Prince Verbamor of the Principality of Xynk, has arrived at the door of your remote stone hut. The envoy tells you that the Prince requests an immediate audience with you. Do you accept? yes 
The screen flashed white, then beeped a midi theme and displayed a white-on-black title screen baring the words “Xynk: An Interactive Quest”. Below were the names of its two developers, Tim Birch and Olaf Brandywine. I hit a key. A pixelated horse began to inch its way across a pixelated mountainous landscape.
The Principality of Xynk is on the other side of the world. Your journey was long and treacherous. 
“How old is this?” Wayne asked.
The screen flashed and a bolt of lightning appeared above the mountains.
But finally you made it. 
“No idea,” I said.
The landscape disappeared, replaced by the command prompt.
After paying for two nights of lodgings at THE YAWNING MASK, you pat your trusty horse, NIGEL, and make your way on foot to the massive structure that looms over the entirety of the city-state of Xynk, the famous CASTLE MOTHMOUTH. [OB: almost done intro description, will add soon] “I have summoned you, John Grousewater, because your exploits are known throughout the land. As you see, Xynk is in grave danger and needs your help. The enemy is already within. Only a reversal of the spell using the very same AMULET OF VERMILLION will thwart the evil plans of the HOODED RAT BROTHERHOOD and save us. Only you possess the ability to locate the amulet somewhere in Xynk and prepare the ingredients necessary to cast the reversal. John Grousewater, the reward for success will be great. Do you accept the mission?” 
I read through the text twice before realizing that Wayne was looking at me. “Well, do you accept?”
yes Xynk: An Interactive Quest is a text adventure game. It is recommended that before you begin, you read the HELP FILE. To do so now or at any time, type: READ HELP. 
I typed READ HELP.
This is placeholder text [TB: We need a help file asap] 
Wayne pulled up a chair and sat down beside me. “That wasn’t very helpful. You ever played one of these before?”
“I think I know the basics,” I said.
ROOM IN THE YAWNING MASK You are in your room in the Yawning Mask. It’s bare and empty, which suits an adventurer like you just fine. In the room, you see a TABLE and a WINDOW. The only DOOR leads WEST into the HALL. 
“So do your stuff, hot shot. Let’s see what this baby’s all about.”
examine table It’s a wooden table. It’s empty. examine window You walk to the window and look out. A cheap view for a cheap room. You see the ALLEY behind The Yawning Mask. Directly below the window, NIGEL and several other horses are eating feed from a trough. 
Bells dinged as a woman walked into the store. Wayne turned his chair to face her. It made an awful scraping sound. “May I help you?”
“My computer’s broken,” she said.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I can’t Skype.”
“Is Skype installed?” Wayne asked.
“I don’t really know how to check that,” she said. “It worked yesterday.” Wayne patted me on the shoulder and got up to work his magic at the front counter.
I vaguely heard them talking as I refocused on Xynk.
talk to Nigel Nigel stops drinking for a moment and looks up. He’s the best horse you’ve ever had, and you hope he thinks the same about you. talk to Nigel about Xynk Nigel neighs. 
I’d played Zork once or twice online, so I had a grip on how these games worked. Usually, half the trouble was getting the game to understand what you wanted to do. Half the tedium was reading the same messages over and over again. To remind myself, I typed:
examine room ROOM IN THE YAWNING MASK You are in your room in the Yawning Mask. It’s bare and empty, which suits an adventurer like you just fine. In the room, you see a TABLE and a WINDOW. Someone has slid a NOTE under the door. The only DOOR leads WEST into the HALL. 
A note? I scrolled up to see if that had been in the first description of the room. It hadn’t.
examine note There is no such object. “Go to EAST STORE ROOM in CASTLE MOTHMOUTH” 
That was odd. I tried examining the note again and got the same result, an error message followed by a line of output. So I tried examining a few made-up objects that the game had never mentioned, like a “lantern”.
There is no such object “Go to EAST STORE ROOM in CASTLE MOTHMOUTH” 
And:
examine ipod There is no such object “Go to EAST STORE ROOM in CASTLE MOTHMOUTH” move W YAWNING MASK HALL You are standing in the hall. Your ROOM is to the EAST. A staircase leads DOWN. 
I went down, and navigated my way out of The Yawning Mask after noting on my phone that the Innkeeper seemed like he could be a font of information about Xynk. I’d talk to him later. Now, I made my way through the city toward Castle Mothmouth. I stopped hearing Wayne discuss how to add and remove software in Windows 7 and started hearing the din of Xynk amidst the clicking of the Thinkpad keys. I passed The Pierced Snout Tavern and The Local Alchemist, peeked into The Library, and noted the names of all the various neighbourhoods that the command prompt threw at me. Although some of the descriptions in the game were unfinished, most were sparsely vivid and the world itself was detailed and huge. Xynk was a living and breathing place, at least as real as a text-based San Andreas.
At some point, Wayne scraped his chair and sat beside me again. “How’s the adventure going, Grousewater?” he asked.
“I’m following what the note said and going to Castle Mothmouth.”
“Or you could work on your thesis.”
I smirked. “Thanks, Annie.”
Then I remembered that Wayne had slept with her before I ever had, and the thought made me jealous.
“Seriously, buddy. I’m all about wasting time playing video games, but the ones I play usually have graphics and guns, and don’t you have a meeting with your whatever-her-name is at the university in like two days?”
I did. I sighed.
save Command unknown. Type HELP FILE for help. save game Command unknown. Type HELP FILE for help. 
“Fuck.”
Wayne picked up my phone and read the notes I’d made. “What’s the matter? Did you get shivved by a homeless dude in”—He squinted.—”Vagrant’s Quarter?”
“I don’t know how to save,” I said.
Wayne grabbed the Thinkpad’s power cord and yanked it out of the socket. The Thinkpad shut off. “The bad thing about buying used laptops,” Wayne said, “is that usually their batteries don’t work.”
I was about to reply in a witty fashion when my phone rang—
Wayne tossed it to me.
It was Annie. I accepted the connection. “Hello, honey bun,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Where the hell are you?”
“I’m…” Wayne pointed with his chin at a clock on the wall. “Shit,” I said into the phone. I’d been at Wayne’s for over three hours. How long had I been playing Xynk? It didn’t seem anywhere near that long. My wife launched into an accusatory reminder that I was supposed to pick up a bag of potatoes on the way home and that I was supposed to be home by five, and that it was now almost six, and that the turkey was going to be too dry, and I moved the phone away from my ear and shrugged my shoulders at Wayne despite knowing that my wife was right. “Wherever you are, just get the potatoes and get home now,” she said, and ended the call. It had long ago stopped being a blow to my ego that my wife never suspected me of having an affair.
“I’ve gotta run,” I said to Wayne. I put my phone in my pocket, closed and picked up the Thinkpad, and rolled up and picked up its power cord.
Wayne crossed his arms.
“You should leave that piece of junk here,” he said.
I waved and was out the door.
I bought the potatoes at the nearest grocery store, paying nearly double what I should have because the store catered to the upper middle-class with ceramic tiles and good lighting unlike the immigrant-focused Food Basics I usually shopped at.
I called my wife to tell her the potatoes were on their way, but she didn’t answer. Maybe she was having an affair.
I also kept thinking about the note by the door in John Grousewater’s room in The Yawning Mask. What could possibly be in Castle Mothmouth’s east storage room, and who’d delivered the glitchy message? I’d have to try to talk to the Innkeeper about it. Maybe he saw someone come in.
I pulled into my driveway, put the laptop under my arm, grabbed the bag of potatoes with my hand and went in through the garage. Annie was waiting in the kitchen, playing a match-three fruit game on her tablet. “Nice of you to finally make it,” she said.
I apologized, saying I’d lost track of time working on my thesis.
“At least I don’t have to worry about you having an affair,” she said as she was getting the turkey out of the oven.
It was dry.
After dinner we drank coffee together. I watched her swipe her finger to match bananas, kiwi and watermelons. What if the note is a trap? I thought. It could be from the Hooded Rat Brotherhood. Then again, was the Hooded Rat Brotherhood actually evil? They had a name that sounded evil, but Prince Verbamor seemed shady too. I understood his need to bring in an outsider to solve the quest because the Hooded Rat Brotherhood had infiltrated Xynk’s own police force and Verbamor didn’t know who to trust, but I also remembered an old British horror movie about an outsider who comes to an island to investigate a crime and ends up burned alive in a giant wicker man as part of an elaborate pagan ceremony.
When Annie stopped talking between levels of her mobile game, I got the bright idea to search for Xynk online.
Google search brought up 273,000 matches but none about the Xynk I was looking for. Google Books didn’t yield any fruit either. Although that wasn’t entirely surprising—after all, the game was old and clearly unfinished—there was something inexplicably creepy about anything that existed in the real world without leaving a trace of its existence on the internet. I decided to try Googling the names of the two developers instead.
They did exist.
Proceed to Part 2
submitted by normancrane to SLEEPSPELL [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 23:26 Zero_McShrimp Porn addict willing to stop solofap

Hello there,
It took me some courage to create my first post here, especially with my main account but here I go.
I think I need to stop masturbating because it's ruining my life.
I'm 30 and I started masturbating to porn around 14, mostly to hentai back then.
Since I started dating girls and be in couple, I had troubles in my sexual life. At the moment I'm alone, but I don't want my next couple and my life to be ruined by all this shit anymore.
Whenever I make love with a girl, I can't cum during penetration or oral sex, especially using a condom, but the problem is still the same without. I'm excited, my penis stays erect all along and it can go for an hour like this, but I can't fucking cum unless I start masturbating and thinking about some porn scenes or situations.
I masturbate between one to three times a day and only to porn and I can cum in few minutes pretty easily.
Important thing, I still take pleasure to fap, it's a short and not so intense pleasure, but still.
It goes like this, everyday, I just have to think about sex or even see some suggestive content at TV or on the internet and I'll start thinking about masturbating. The desire to go over the internet and find a good video to fap will grow until it's fulfilled.

How did you guys succeed at stopping porn when you have access to the internet pretty much whenever you want ?
To guys who already quit fapping :
1- Did you stop suddenly or did you gradually quit ?
2- How hard was it ? Was there some sort of "withdrawal crisis" that was hard to overcome ? Can it be physically painful ? (don't know if the blue balls thing is an urban legend or not :x)
3- Did it change your life ? In which ways ?
4- Do you still solo fap sometimes ? How often ?

Thanks for reading and helping, hope my english wasn't too bad and you understood most of my problems.
Cheers.
submitted by Zero_McShrimp to NoFap [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 21:18 normancrane Iris [3/3]

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3 <-- You are here.
I awoke to a world without women.
I rolled off the bed into sore thighs and guilt, got up to emptiness that echoed the slightest noise, and left my wife’s clothes on the sheets without thinking that eventually I’d have to pack them into a plastic bag and slide them down the garbage chute. I felt magnified and hollow. In the kitchen, I used the stove top as a table because the actual table had my wife’s tablet on it, and spilled instant coffee. What I didn’t spill I drank in a few gulps, the way I used to drink ice cold milk as a boy. I stood in front of the living room window for a while before realizing I was naked, then realizing that it didn’t matter because men changed in front of each other at the pool and peed next to one another into urinals in public restrooms, and there weren’t any women to hide from, no one to offend. The world, I told myself, was now a sprawling men’s pisser, so I slammed the window open and pissed.
I wanted to call someone—to tell them that my wife was dead, because that’s a duty owed by the living—but whom could I call: her sister, her parents? Her sister was dead. Her father had a dead wife and two dead daughters. There was nothing to say. Everyone knew. I called my wife’s father anyway. Was he still my father-in-law now that I was a widower? He didn’t accept the connection. Widower: a word loses all but historical meaning when there are no alternatives. If all animals were dogs, we’d purge one of those words from our vocabulary. We were all widowers. It was synonymous with man. I switched on the television and stared, crying, at a montage of photographs showing the bloody landscapes of cities, hospitals, retirement homes, schools and churches, all under the tasteless headline: “International Pop”. Would we clean it up, these remnants of the people we loved? Could we even use the same buildings, knowing what had happened in them? The illusion of practical thinking pushed my feeling of emptiness away. I missed arms wrapping around me from behind while I stared through rain streaked windows. I missed barking and a wagging tail that hit my leg whenever I was standing too close. Happiness seemed impossible. I called Bakshi because I needed confirmation that I still had a voice. “They’re the lucky ones,” he said right after I’d introduced myself. “They’re out. We’re the fools still locked in, and now we’re all alone.”
For three weeks, I expected my wife to show up at the apartment door. I removed her clothes from the bed and stuffed them into a garbage bag, but kept the garbage bag in the small space between the fridge and the kitchen wall. I probably would have kept a dead body in the freezer if I had one and it fit. As a city and as a world, those were grim, disorganized weeks for us. Nobody worked. I don’t know what we did. Sat around and drank, smoked. And we called each other, often out of the blue. Every day, I received a call from someone I knew but hadn’t spoken to in years. The conversations all followed a pattern. There was no catching up and no explanation of lost time, just a question like “How are you holding up?” followed by a thoughtless answer (“Fine, I guess. And you?”) followed by an exchange of details about the women we’d lost. Mothers, sisters, daughters, wives, girlfriends, friends, cousins, aunts, teachers, students, co-workers. We talked about the colour of their hair, their senses of humour, their favourite movies. We said nothing about ourselves, choosing instead to inhabit the personas of those whom we’d loved. In the hallway, I would put on my wife’s coats but never look at myself in the mirror. I wore her winter hats in the middle of July. Facebook became a graveyard, with the gender field separating the mourners from the dead.
The World Health Organization issued a communique stating that based on the available data it was reasonable to assume that all the women in the world were dead, but it called for any woman still alive to come forward immediately. The language of the communique was as sterile as the Earth. Nobody came forward. The World Wildlife Fund created an inventory of all mammalian species that listed in ascending order how long each species would exist. Humans were on the bottom. Both the World Health Organization and the World Wildlife Fund predicted that unless significant technological progress occurred in the field of fertility within the next fifty years, the last human, a theoretical boy named Philip born into a theoretical developed country on March 26, 2025, would die in 93 years. On the day of his death, Philip would be the last remaining mammal—although not necessarily animal—on Earth. No organization or government has ever officially stated that July 4, 2025, was the most destructive day in recorded history, on the morning of which, Eastern Time, four billion out of a total of eight billion people ceased to exist as anything more than memories. What killed them was neither an act of war nor an act of terrorism. Neither was it human negligence. There was no one to blame and no one to prosecute. In the western countries, where the majority of people no longer believed in any religion, we could not even call it an act of God. So we responded by calling it nothing at all.
And, like nothing, our lives persisted. We ate, we slept and we adapted. After the first wave of suicides ended, we hosed off what the rain hadn’t already washed away and began to reorganize the systems on which our societies ran. It was a challenge tempered only slightly in countries where women had not made up a significant portion of the workforce. We held new elections, formed me boards of directors and slowed down the assembly lines and bus schedules to make it possible for our communities to keep running. There was less food in the supermarkets, but we also needed less food. Instead of two trains we ran one, but one sufficed. I don’t remember the day when I finally took the black garbage bag from its resting place and walked it to the chute. “How are you holding up?” a male voice would say on the street. “Fine, I guess. And you?” I’d answer. ##!! wrote a piece of Python code to predict the box office profitability of new movies, in which real actors played alongside computer-generated actresses. The code was only partially successful. Because while it did accurately predict the success of new movies in relation to one other, it failed to include the overwhelming popularity of re-releases of films from the past—films starring Bette Davis, Giulietta Masina, Meryl Streep: women who at least on screen were still flesh and blood. Theatres played retrospectives. On Amazon, books by female authors topped the charts. Sales of albums by women vocalists surged. We thirsted for another sex. I watched, read and listened like everyone else, and in between I cherished any media on which I found images or recordings of my wife. I was angry for not having made more. I looked at the same photos and watched the same clips over and over again. I memorized my wife’s Facebook timeline and tagged all her Tweets by date, theme and my own rating. When I went out, I would talk to the air as if she was walking beside me, sometimes quoting her actual words as answers to my questions and sometimes inventing my own as if she was a beloved character in an imagined novel. When people looked at me like I was crazy, I didn’t care. I wasn’t the only one. But, more importantly, my wife meant more to me than they did. I remembered times when we’d stroll through the park or down downtown sidewalks and I would be too ashamed to kiss her in the presence of strangers. Now, I would tell her that I love her in the densest crowd. I would ask her whether I should buy ketchup or mustard in the condiments aisle. She helped me pick out my clothes in the morning. She convinced me to eat healthy and exercise.
In November, I was in Bakshi’s apartment for the first time, waiting for a pizza delivery boy, when one of Bakshi’s friends who was browsing Reddit told us that the Tribe of Akna was starting a Kickstarter campaign in an attempt to buy the Republic of Suriname, rename it Xibalba and close its borders for all except the enlightened. Xibalba would have no laws, Salvador Abaroa said in a message on the site. He was banging his gong as he did. Everything would be legal, and anyone who pledged $100 would receive a two-week visa to this new "Mayan Buddhist Eden". If you pledged over $10,000, you would receive citizenship. “Everything in life is destroyed by energy,” Abaroa said. “But let the energy enlighten you before it consumes your body. Xibalba is finite life unbound.” Bakshi’s phone buzzed. The pizza boy had sent an email. He couldn’t get upstairs, so Bakshi and I took the elevator to the building’s front entrance. The boy’s face was so white that I saw it as soon as the elevator doors slid open. Walking closer, I saw that he was powdered. His cheeks were also rouged, and he was wearing cranberry coloured lipstick, a Marilyn Monroe wig and a short black skirt. Compared to his face, his thin legs looked like incongruously dark popsicle sticks. Bakshi paid for the pizza and added another five dollars for the tip. The boy batted his fake eyelashes and asked if maybe he could do something to earn a little more. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I could come upstairs and clean the place up a little. You two live alone?” Bakshi passed me the two pizza boxes—They felt hot in my hands.—and dug around in his wallet. “It’s not just the two of us,” I said. The boy smiled. “That’s OK. I’ve done parties before if that’s what you’re into.” I saw the reaction on Bakshi’s face, and I saw the boy’s grotesque caricature of a woman. “There’s condoms and lube in the car,” the boy said, pointing to a sedan with a pizza spray-painted across its side parked by the curb. “My boss says I can take up to two hours but it’s not like he uses a stopwatch.” I stepped on Bakshi’s foot and shouldered him away. He was still fiddling with his wallet. “We’re not interested,” I said to the boy. He just shrugged. “Suit yourselves. If you change your mind, order another pizza and ask for Ruby.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. As we shuffled inside, I saw Bakshi’s cheeks turn red. “I’m not actually—” he mumbled, but I didn’t let him finish. What had bothered me so much about the boy wasn’t the way he looked or acted; in fact, it wasn’t really the boy at all. He was just trying to make a buck. What bothered me was how ruthlessly we’d already begun to exploit each other.
For those of us who were heterosexual, sex was a definite weakness. I missed it. I would never have it with a woman again. The closest substitute was pornography, whose price rose with its popularity, but which, at least for me, now came scented with the unpleasantness of historicity and nostalgia. Videos and photos, not to mention physical magazines, were collector’s items in the same way that we once collected coins or action figures. The richest men bought up the exclusive rights to their favourite porn stars and guarded them by law with a viciousness once reserved for the RIAA and MPAA. Perhaps exclusivity gave them a possessive satisfaction. In response, we pirated whatever we could and fought for a pornographic public domain. Although new pornography was still being produced, either with the help of the same virtual technology they used for mainstream movies or with the participation of young men in costume, it lacked the taste of the originals. It was like eating chocolate made without cocoa. The best pornography, and therefore the best sex, became the pornography of the mind.
The Tribe of Akna reached its Kickstarter goal in early December. On December 20, I went to church for the first time since getting married because that was the theoretical date that my wife—along with every other woman—was supposed to have given birth. I wanted to be alone with others. Someone posted a video on TikTok from Elia Kazan’s On The Waterfront, dubbing over Marlon Brando’s speech to say: “You don’t understand. I could’a had a piece of ass. I could’a been a school board member. I could’a been a son’s daddy”. It was juvenile and heartbreaking. By Christmas, the Surinamese government was already expelling its citizens, each of whom had theoretically been given a fraction of the funds paid to the government from the Tribe of Akna’s Kickstarter pool, and Salvador Abaroa’s lawyers were petitioning for international recognition of the new state of Xibalba. Neither Canada nor the United States opened diplomatic relations, but others did. I knew people who had pledged money, and when in January they disappeared on trips, I had no doubt to where. Infamy spread in the form of stories and urban legends. There’s no need for details. People disappeared, and ethicists wrote about the ethical neutrality of murder, arguing that because we were all slated to die, leaving the Earth barren in a century, destruction was a human inevitability, and what is inevitable can never be bad, even when it comes earlier than expected—even when it comes by force. Because, as a species, we hadn’t chosen destruction for ourselves, neither should any individual member of our species be able to choose now for himself. To the ethicists of what became known as the New Inevitability School, suicide was a greater evil than murder because it implied choice and inequality. If the ship was going down, no one should be allowed to get off. A second wave of suicides coincided with the debate, leading many governments to pass laws making suicide illegal. But how do you punish someone who already wants to die? In China: by keeping him alive and selling him to Xibalba, where he becomes the physical plaything of its citizens and visa-holders. The Chinese was the first embassy to open in Xibalban Paramaribo.
The men working on Kurt Schwaller’s theory of everything continued working, steadily adding new variables to their equations, complicating their calculations in the hopes that someday the variable they added would be the final one and the equation would yield an answer. “It’s pointless,” Bakshi would comment after reading about one of the small breakthroughs they periodically announced. “Even if they do manage to predict something, anything, it won’t amount to anything more than the painfully obvious. And after decades of adding and subtracting their beans, they’ll come out of their Los Alamos datalabs like groundhogs into a world blanketed by storm clouds and conclude, finally and with plenty of self-congratulations, that it’s about to fucking rain.”
It rained a lot in February. It was one of the warmest Februaries in Toronto’s history. Sometimes I went for walks along the waterfront, talking to my wife, listening to Billie Holiday and trying to recall as many female faces as I could. Ones from the distant past: my mother, my grandmothers. Ones from the recent past: the woman whose life my wife saved on the way to the hospital, the Armenian woman with the film magazine and the injured son, the Jamaican woman, Bakshi’s wife. I focused on their faces, then zoomed out to see their bodies. I carried an umbrella but seldom opened it because the pounding of the raindrops against the material distorted my mental images. I saw people rush across the street holding newspapers above their heads while dogs roamed the alleyways wearing nothing at all. Of the two, it was dogs that had the shorter time left on Earth, and if they could let the rain soak their fur and drip off their bodies, I could surely let it run down my face. It was first my mother and later my wife who told me to always cover up in the rain, “because moisture causes colds,” but I was alone now and I didn’t want to be separated from the falling water by a sheet of glass anymore. I already was cold. I saw a man sit down on a bench, open his briefcase, pack rocks into it, then close it, tie it to his wrist, check his watch and start to walk into the polluted waters of Lake Ontario. Another man took out his phone and tapped his screen a few times. The man in the lake walked slowly, savouring each step. When the police arrived, sirens blaring, the water was up to his neck. I felt guilty for watching the three officers splash into the lake after him. I don’t know what happened after that because I turned my back and walked away. I hope they didn’t stop him. I hope he got to do what he wanted to do.
“Screw the police.” Bakshi passed me a book. “You should read this,” he said. It was by a professor of film and media studies at a small university in Texas. There was a stage on the cover, flanked by two red curtains. The photo had been taken from the actors’ side, looking out at an audience that the stage lights made too dark to see. The title was Hiding Behind The Curtains. I flipped the book over. There was no photo of the author. “It’s a theory,” Bakshi said, “that undercuts what Abaroa and the Inevitabilists are saying. It’s a little too poetic in parts but—listen, you ever read Atlas Shrugged?” I said I hadn’t. “Well, anyway, what this guy says is that what if instead of our situation letting us do anything we want, it’s actually the opposite, a test to see how we act when we only think that we’re doomed. I mean what if the women who died in March, what if they’re just—” “Hiding behind the curtains,” I said. He bit his lower lip. “It sounds stupid when you say it like that but, as a metaphor, it has a kind of elegance, right?” I flipped through the book, reading a few sentences at random. It struck me as neo-Christian. “Isn’t this a little too spiritual for you? I thought we were all locked into one path,” I said. “I thought that, too, but lately I’ve been able to do things—things that I didn’t really want to do.” For a second I was concerned. “Nothing bad,” he said. “I mean I’ve felt like I’m locked into doing one thing, say having a drink of water, but I resist and pour myself a glass of orange juice instead.” I shook my head. “It’s hard to explain,” he said. That’s how most theories ended, I thought: reason and evidence up to a crucial point, and then it gets so personal that it’s hard to explain. You either make the jump or you don’t. “Just read it,” he said. “Please read it. You don’t have to agree with it, I just want to get your opinion, an objective opinion.”
I never did read the book, and Bakshi forgot about it, too, but that day he was excited and happy, and those were rare feelings. I was simultaneously glad for him and jealous. Afterwards, we went out onto the balcony and drank Czech beer until morning. When it got cool, we put on our coats. It started to drizzle so we wore blue plastic suits like the ones they used to give you on boat rides in Niagara Falls. When it was time to go home, I was so drunk I couldn’t see straight. I almost got into a fight, the first one of my life, because I bumped into a man on the street and told him to get the fuck out of my way. I don’t remember much more of my walk home. The only reason I remember Behind The Curtains at all is because when I woke up in the afternoon it was the first thing that my hung over brain recognized. It was lying on the floor beside the bed. Then I opened the blinds covering my bedroom window and, through my spread fingers that I’d meant to use as a shield from the first blast of daylight, I saw the pincers for the first time.
They’d appeared while I was asleep. I turned on the television and checked my phone. The media and the internet were feverish, but nobody knew what the thing was, just a massive, vaguely rectangular shape blotting out a strip of the sky. NASA stated that it had received no extraterrestrial messages to coincide with the appearance. Every government claimed ignorance. The panel discussions on television only worsened my headache. Bakshi emailed me links to photos from Mumbai, Cape Town, Sydney and Mexico City, all showing the same shape; or rather one of a pair of shapes, for there were two of them, one on each side of the Earth, and they’d trapped our planet between themselves like gargantuan fingers clutching an equally gargantuan ping-pong ball. That’s why somebody came up with the term “the pincers”. It stuck. Because I’d slept in last night’s clothes I was already dressed, so I ran down the stairs and out of my apartment building to get a better look at them from the parking lot. You’re not supposed to look at the sun, but I wasn’t the only one breaking that rule. There were entire crowds with upturned faces in the streets. If the pincers, too, could see, they would perhaps be as baffled by us as we were of them: billions of tiny specks all over the surface of this ping-pong ball gathering in points on a grid, coagulating into large puddles that vanished overnight only to reassemble in the morning. In the following days, scientists scrambled to study the pincers and their potential effects on us, but they discovered nothing. The pincers did nothing. They emitted nothing, consumed nothing. They simply were. And they could not be measured or detected in any way other than by eyesight. When we shot rays at them, the rays continued on their paths unaffected, as if nothing was there. The pincers did, however, affect the sun’s rays coming towards us. They cut up our days. The sun would rise, travel over the sky, hide behind a pincer—enveloping us in a second night—before revealing itself again as a second day. But if the pincers’ physical effect on us was limited to its blockage of light, their mental effects on us were astoundingly severe. For many, this was the sign they’d been waiting for. It brought hope. It brought gloom. It broke and confirmed ideas that were hard to explain. In their ambiguity, the pincers could be anything, but in their strangeness they at least reassured us of the reality of the strange times in which we were living. Men walked away from the theory of everything, citing the pincers as the ultimate variable that proved the futility of prognostication. Others took up the calculations because if the pincers could appear, what else was out there in our future? However, ambiguity can only last for a certain period. Information narrows possibilities. On April 1, 2026, every Twitter account in the world received the following message:
as you can see this message is longer than the allowed one hundred forty characters time and space are malleable you thought you had one hundred years but prepare for the plucking
The sender was @. The message appeared in each user’s feed at exactly the same time and in his first language, without punctuation. Because of the date most of us thought it was a hoax, but the developers of Twitter denied this vehemently. It wasn’t until a court forced them to reveal their code, which proved that a message of that length and sent by a blank user was impossible, that our doubts ceased. ##!! took bets on what the message meant. Salvador Abaroa broadcast a response into space in a language he called Bodhi Mayan, then addressed the rest of us in English, saying that in the pincers he had identified an all-powerful prehistoric fire deity, described in an old Sanskrit text as having the resemblance of mirrored black fangs, whose appearance signified the end of time. “All of us will burn,” he said, “but paradise shall be known only to those who burn willingly.” Two days later, The Tribe of Akna announced that in one month it would seal Xibalba from the world and set fire to everything and everyone in it. For the first time, its spokesman said, an entire nation would commit suicide as one. Jonestown was but a blip. As a gesture of goodwill, he said that Xibalba was offering free immolation visas to anyone who applied within the next week. The New Inevitability School condemned the plan as “offensively unethical” and inequalitist and urged an international Xibalban boycott. Nothing came of it. When the date arrived, we watched with rapt attention on live streams and from the vantage points of circling news planes as Salvador Abaroa struck flint against steel, creating the spark that caught the char cloth, starting a fire that blossomed bright crimson and in the next weeks consumed all 163,821 square kilometres of the former Republic of Suriname and all 2,500,000 of its estimated Xibalban inhabitants. Despite concerns that the fire would spread beyond Xibalba’s borders, The Tribe of Akna had been careful. There were no accidental casualties and no unplanned property damage. No borders were crossed. Once the fire burned out, reporters competed to be first to capture the mood on the ground. Paramaribo resembled the smouldering darkness of a fire pit.
It was a few days later while sitting on Bakshi’s balcony, looking up at the pincers and rereading a reproduction of @’s message—someone had spray-painted it across the wall of a building opposite Bakshi’s—that I remembered Iris. The memory was so absorbing that I didn’t notice when Bakshi slid open the balcony door and sat down beside me, but I must have been smiling because he said, “I don’t mean this the wrong way, but you look a little loony tonight. Seriously, man, you do not look sufficiently freaked out.” I’d remembered Iris before, swirling elements of her plain face, but now I also remembered her words and her theory. I turned to Bakshi, who seemed to be waiting for an answer to his question, and said, “Let’s get up on the roof of this place.” He grabbed my arm and held on tightly. “I’m not going to jump, if that’s what you mean.” It wasn’t what I meant, but I asked, “why not?” He said, “I don’t know. I know we’re fucked as a species and all that, but I figure if I’m still alive I might as well see what happens next, like in a bad movie you want to see through to the end.” I promised him that I wasn’t going to jump, either. Then I scrambled inside his apartment, grabbed my hat and jacket from the closet by the front door and put them on while speed walking down the hall, toward the fire escape. I realized I’d been spending a lot of time here. The alarm went off as soon I pushed open the door with my hip but I didn’t care. When Bakshi caught up with me, I was already outside, leaping up two stairs at a time. The metal construction was rusted. The treads wobbled. On the roof, the wind nearly blew my hat off and it was so loud I could have screamed and no one would have heard me. Holding my hat in my hands, I crouched and looked out over the twinkling city spread out in front of me. It looked alive in spite of the pincers in the sky. “Let’s do something crazy,” I yelled. Bakshi was still catching his breath behind me. “What, like this isn’t crazy enough?” The NHL may have been gone but my hat still bore the Maple Leafs logo, as quaint and obsolete by then as the Weimar Republic in the summer of 1945. “When’s the last time you played ball hockey?” I asked. Bakshi crouched beside me. “You’re acting weird. And I haven’t played ball hockey in ages.” I stood up so suddenly that Bakshi almost fell over. This time I knew I was smiling. “So call your buddies,” I said. “Tell them to bring their sticks and their gear and to meet us in front of the ACC in one hour.” Bakshi patted me on the back. Toronto shone like jewels scattered over black velvet. “The ACC’s been closed for years, buddy. I think you’re really starting to lose it.” I knew it was closed. “Lose what?” I asked. “It’s closed and we’re going to break in.”
The chains broke apart like shortbread. The electricity worked. The clouds of dust made me sneeze. We used duffel bags to mark out the goals. We raced up and down the stands and bent over, wheezing at imaginary finish lines. We got into the announcer’s booth and called each other cunts through the microphone. We ran, fell and shot rubber pucks for hours. We didn’t keep score. We didn’t worry. “What about the police?” someone asked. The rest of us answered: “Screw the fucking police!”
And when everybody packed up and went home, I stayed behind.
“Are you sure you’re fine?” Bakshi asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Because I have to get back so that I can shower, get changed and get to work.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
“And you promise me you’ll catch a cab?”
“I’m not suicidal.”
He fixed his grip on his duffel bag. “I didn’t say you were. I was just checking.”
“I want to see the end of the movie, too,” I said.
He saluted. I watched him leave. When he was gone, my wife walked down from the nosebleeds and took a seat beside me. “There’s someone I want to tell you about,” I said. She lifted her chin like she always does when something unexpected catches her interest, and scooted closer. I put my arm across the back of her beautiful shoulders. She always liked that, even though the position drives me crazy because I tend to talk a lot with my hands. “Stuck at Leafs-Wings snorefest,” she said. “Game sucks but I love the man sitting beside me.” (January 15, 2019. Themes: hockey, love, me. Rating: 5/5). “Her name was Iris,” I said.

Iris

“What if the whole universe was a giant garden—like a hydroponics thing, like how they grow tomatoes and marijuana, so there wouldn’t need to be any soil, all the nutrients would just get injected straight into the seeds or however they do it—or, even better, space itself was the soil, you know how they talk about dark matter being this invisible and mysterious thing that exists out there and we don’t know what it does, if it actually affect anything, gravity…”
She blew a cloud of pot smoke my way that made me cough and probably gave her time to think. She said, “So dark matter is like the soil, and in this space garden of course they don’t grow plants but something else.”
“Galaxies?”
“Eyes.”
“Just eyes, or body parts in general?” I asked.
“Just eyes.”
The music from the party thumped. “But the eyes are our planets, like Mars is an eye, Neptune is an eye, and the Earth is an eye, maybe even the best eye.”
“The best for what? Who’s growing them?”
“God,” she said.
I took the joint from her and took a long drag. “I didn’t know you believed in God.”
“I don’t, I guess—except when I’m on dope. Anyway, you’ve got to understand me because when I say God I don’t mean like the old man with muscles and a beard. This God, the one I’m talking about, it’s more like a one-eyed monster.”
“Like a cyclops?” I asked.
“Yeah, like that, like a cyclops. So it’s growing these eyes in the dark matter in space—I mean right now, you and me, we’re literally sitting on one of these eyes and we’re contributing to its being grown because the nutrients the cyclops God injected into them, that’s us.”
“Why does God need so many extra eyes?”
“It’s not a question of having so many of them, but more about having the right one, like growing the perfect tomato.” I gave her back the joint and leaned back, looking at the stars. “Because every once in a while the cyclops God goes blind, its eye stops working—not in the same way we go blind, because the cyclops God doesn’t see reality in the same way we see reality—but more like we see through our brains and our eyes put together.”
“Like x-ray vision?” I asked.
“No, not like that at all,” she said.
“A glass eye?”
“Glass eyes are fake.”
“OK,” I said, “so maybe try something else. Give me a different angle. Tell me what role we’re playing in all of this because right now it seems that we’re pretty insignificant. I mean, you said we’re nutrients but what’s the difference between, say, Mars and Earth in terms of being eyes?”
She looked over at me. “Are you absolutely sure you want to hear about this?”
“I am,” I said.
“You don’t think it’s stupid?”
“Compared to what?”
“I don’t know, just stupid in general.”
“I don’t.”
“I like you,” she said.
“Because I don’t think you’re stupid?” I asked.
“That’s just a bonus. I mean more that you’re up here with me instead of being down there with everyone, and we’re talking and even though we’re not in love I know somehow we’ll never forget each other for as long as we live.”
“It’s hard to forget being on the surface of a giant floating eyeball.”
“You’re scared that you won’t find anyone to love,” she said suddenly, causing me to nearly choke on my own saliva. “Don’t ask me how I know—I just do. But before I go any further about the cyclops God, I want you to know that you’ll find someone to love and who’ll love you back, and whatever happens you’ll always have that because no one can take away the past.”
“You’re scared of going blind,” I said.
“I am going blind.”
“Not yet.”
“And I’m learning not to be scared because everything I see until that day will always belong to me.”
“The doctors said it would be gradual,” I reminded her.
“That’s horrible.”
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t want to find someone to love and then know that every day you wake up the love between you grows dimmer and dimmer, would you?”
“I guess not,” I said.
“Wouldn’t you much rather feel the full strength of that love up to and including in the final second before the world goes black?”
“It would probably be painful to lose it all at once like that.”
“Painful because you actually had something to lose. For me, I know I can’t wish away blindness, but I sure wish that the last image I ever see—in that final second before my world goes black—is the most vivid and beautiful image of all.”
Because I didn’t know what to say to that, I mumbled: “I’m sorry.”
“That I’m going blind?”
“Yeah, and that we can’t grow eyes.”
This time I looked over, and she was the one gazing at the stars. “Before, you asked if we were insignificant,” she said. “But because you’re sorry—that’s kind of why we’re the most significant of all, why Earth is better than the other planets.”
“For the cyclops God?”
“Yes.”
“He cares about my feelings?”
“Not in the way you’re probably thinking, but in a different way that’s exactly what the cyclops God cares about most because that’s what it’s looking for in an eye. All the amazing stuff we’ve ever built, all our ancient civilizations and supercomputers and cities you can see from the Moon—that’s just useless cosmetics to the cyclops God, except in how all of it has made us feel about things that aren’t us.”
“I think you’re talking about morality.”
“I think so, too.”
“So by feeling sorry for you I’m showing compassion, and the cyclops God likes compassion?”
“That’s not totally wrong but it’s a little upside down. We have this black matter garden and these planets the cyclops God has grown as potential eyes to replace its own eye once it stops working, but its own eye is like an eye and a brain mixed together. Wait—” she said.
I waited.
“Imagine a pair of tinted sunglasses.”
I imagined green-tinted ones.
“Now imagine that instead of the lenses being a certain colour, they’re a certain morality, and if you wear the glasses you see the world tinted according to that morality.”
I was kind of able to imagine that. I supposed it would help show who was good and who was bad. “But the eye and the tinted glasses are the same thing in this case.”
“Exactly, there’s no one without the other, and what makes the tint special is us—not that the cyclops God cares at all about individuals any more than we care about individual honey bees. That’s why he’s kind of a monster.”
“Isn’t people’s morality always changing, though?”
“Only up to a point. Green is green even when you have a bunch of shades of it, and a laptop screen still works fine even with a few dead pixels, right? And the more globalized and connected we get, the smoother our morality gets, but if you’re asking more about how our changing morals work when the cyclops God finally comes to take its eye, I assume it has a way to freeze our progress. To cut our roots. Then it makes some kind of final evaluation. If it’s satisfied it takes the planet and sticks it into its eye socket, and if it doesn’t like us then it lets us alone, although because we’re frozen and possibly rootless I suppose we die—maybe that’s what the other planets are, so many of them in space without any sort of life. Cold, rejected eyes.”
From sunglasses to bees to monitors in three metaphors, and now we were back to space. This was getting confusing. The stars twinkled, some of them dead, too: their light still arriving at our eyes from sources that no longer existed. “That’s kind of depressing,” I said to end the silence.
“What about it?”
“Being bees,” I said, “that work for so long at tinting a pair of glasses just so that a cyclops God can try them on.”
“I don’t think it’s any more depressing than being a tomato.”
“I’ve never thought about that.”
“You should. It’s beautiful, like love,” she said. “Because if you think about it, being a tomato and being a person are really quite similar. They’re both about growing and existing for the enjoyment of someone else. As a tomato you’re planted, you grow and mature and then an animal comes along and eats you. The juicier you look and the nicer you smell, the greater the chance that you’ll get plucked but also the more pleasure the animal will get from you. As a person, you’re also born and you grow up and you mature into a one of a kind personality with a one of a kind face, and then someone comes along and makes you fall in love with them and all the growing you did was really just for their enjoyment of your love.”
“Except love lasts longer than chewing a tomato.”
“Sometimes,” she said.
“And you have to admit that two tomatoes can’t eat each other the way two people can love each other mutually.”
“I admit that’s a good point,” she said.
“And what happens to someone who never gets fallen in love with?”
“The same thing that happens to a tomato that never gets eaten or an eye that the cyclops God never takes. They die and they rot, and they darken and harden, decomposing until they don’t look like tomatoes anymore. It’s not a nice fate. I’d rather live awhile and get eaten, to be honest.”
“As a tomato or person?”
“Both.”
I thought for a few seconds. “That explanation works for things on Earth, but nothing actually decomposes in space.”
“That’s why there are so many dead planets,” she said.
submitted by normancrane to cryosleep [link] [comments]


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