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fuck-customers · 1 year

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Names changed.

Buckle the fuck in.

I have been wanting to tell anyone about this series of events at work. The story doesn't start with me, an ex-coworker who was a Lead and was the one who checked in Julius the dog for a month-long stay. It is well known that his owner Mario is a bit of an Eccentric old Queen. He thinks he's a vampire and other shit. Whatever. He's checking his dog in and mentions he's going to Colombia to find a husband and do cocaine.

Okay go off, if I were retired and lonely I'd probably do something similar. I know he's lonely because every time he comes in he starts the same conversation about how all his family is dead and he's single.

Clearly, he's a bit out there, but if I was a retired old gay like him I'd have some fun too. Whatever. The owner calls our partnered trainer for a few sessions. A few weeks go by and for the third training session, he's not answering. Really weird for him, but we chalk it up to him avoiding roaming fees.

Our trainer finishes his allotted training since he didn't answer to add more. She calls multiple times for 3 days, and she wants the extra money. This is very important.

We get a call from one of Julius's emergency contacts since s in South America saying that Julius is going to be staying for another 3 weeks, and now his stay is two months. Mario has to pay us the current total to prevent abandonment, Joe's friend gets the money wired and the stay is extended, he's using Facebook Messenger as his communication method. So it takes a whole day to do this Totally get it when I got back to my home country. I do the same with Whatsapp. This is normal, this is fine! We extended the stay.

Three weeks pass and we get another call from the same agent, Julius is staying one more night, and Mario's flight got canceled. Annoying since the dog is nasty and a pest (affectionate) but we extend the stay.

He comes in to pick up his dog the next day straight from the airport (not that far it's maybe 20 minutes away). He starts chatting with the Manager, Assistant Manager, and me. He's talking about drinks food, and hotel price. He keeps making a point about the currency exchange rate. USD to COP. So cheap to him. The Assistant and I eye each other we're both Latino so this is annoying.

Then he starts ranking about how he hired security to escort him through all the major cities of the country, Medellin, Cali, and Bogota. All with heavily armored guards.

Our computers start fucking up so the invoice has to be inserted manually, my Manager does it. This is when he starts talking about how dangerous it was in Colombia, how that's why he hired guards ( he had pictures, lots of them, lots and lots). Now I'm uncomfortable. Colombia isn't as dangerous as he's making it out to be, normal people live normal lives and tourism is huge!

By then I'm praying to Jesus and his baby daddy too, as he admits to drunk driving and running over a dog. Then he starts calling the locals whores? How everyone was pimping out their kids and everyone and their mother were forced into sex work because of poverty. Everyone was greedy and envious. I'm trying not to leap over the counter and beat the shit outta this guy.

Then he starts talking about how the main purpose of his trip was to go find a husband. He was proposed to by 2 guys, he showed us the rings (ugly as the man wearing them) and emphasized again how "they were all so fucking greedy". How everyone wanted to talk and be near him because he was popular and had money.

I try to veer the conversation away from that but he goes back to the shit load of drugs and sex he had. My Assistant manager leaves around here.

Now for the pièce de résistance.

He starts detailing how he got KIDNAPPED by a "family" (I'll sell my left kidney if they actually were a real family)

He was fucking ransomed for 7K USD and proceeded to explain that he was kept subdued with sex. This explains his mystery absence and random ass extension AND how his friend was the only one who could be contacted. As well as the obscene amount of money paid in full to extend Julius's stay. This guy is fucking loaded and he was showing it off so much that someone noticed he's as stupid as they come and kidnapped him.

Sweet baby Jesus. But it gets worse.

He shows us proof. He sent his guards away because he wanted to have sex with a 20-something-year-old. By now he's showing off pictures of all the men he had sex with. Accidentally showed us nudes while showing off the cocktails he drank. And turns out! That the family had a father and son and he had sex with both of them. He implied a threesome. I suddenly wished I didn't know English.

I leave because I will laugh, and yell. I start asking my ancestors instead for guidance but instead they laugh as I am forced to back up front.

So I get to hear how he wants to move to Colombia. Apparently, he's moving there as soon as he sells his house here. Which….no words.

I go to the back again and work on cleaning rooms. Later when I go to the kitchen my manager is there and I make a comment about him. And here's the really fucked up bit, while he was explaining that he was both terrified and in love with his experience in Colombia my manager was like "Yeah I don't think I could go and have a time like yours" He looked her up and down, a willowy, average height blond blue-eyed white women in her 20s, and said "no way you be raped so bad" My hand went to my mouth I swore loud and she just shrugged.

This guy has a coke-fried brain, my god. Anyways, the dog just stayed with us again while he was in Colombia again, and luckily, we didn't have to deal with another checkout since he had his dog shipped over to Colombia via a company. Good luck to them both, and I hope the guy who marries him leeches him out of all his money and then some.

#submissions #fuck customers #embarrassing #tw: racism #tw: incest #tw: animal death #tw: kidnapping #tw: sex mention #tw: rape mention #tw: drugs

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wenevergotusedtoegypt · 4 months

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Yeah ok we can be done with this visit now. 🙃

We had a Mother’s Day brunch with me, my husband, my kids, my parents, my in-laws, my sister, and her fiancé. MIL brought a card for me to the restaurant. She is extremely invested in cards for all occasions and spends a large amount of time finding the “perfect” one, then underlining key words in the text and adding her own message.

So first of all during the meal, she told my husband multiple times to make sure I didn’t forget to take the card home. I was sitting RIGHT THERE but I guess she couldn’t just tell that to me?

Then, a bit after we got home, I was in the next room - but CLEARLY within earshot if she thought about it for .02 seconds - and she asked my husband if I had opened the card. He said he thought I had, and she got upset because “I would’ve thought she would tell me if she liked it if she had opened it.” My husband told her to ask me and she finally did. But like. Come ON. I get that she’s into cards, but it was JUST a super trite hallmark card with 1 sentence addition. And I thanked her for it when she gave it to me. How much effort exactly does she think one is supposed to expend on a thank you for just a CARD? No gift. Just a card. Maybe I’ll send her a thank you card next time and we can then exchange thank you cards for the thank you card ad infinitum? And also, HELLO I AM MY OWN PERSON, stop asking my husband about me when I’m literally right there.

Then, our friends had an idea to organize a last minute surprise party for my husband, so I added them, my family, and my in-laws to a WhatsApp group to plan it. I asked if anyone had any ideas about how to get my husband to the party location without spoiling the surprise. MIL then messaged me privately outside the group asking how we were going to get him there?? Like that is why we have a group. So that I am not going back and forth between all the involved parties. So that we can collaborate. In the group. 🤦🏻‍♀️ She also messaged the entire group to tell the friend who is hosting the party that she had messaged her privately. So…super excited to find out what that was about, if it wasn’t just asking the exact same question or similar as she asked to me.

And then they said they were going to leave soon, but it took them over an hour to actually do so, and meanwhile I got super hangry and couldn’t get anything to eat because my MIL was in the kitchen and I didn’t want to risk being around her while hangry, and after all they were supposed to be leaving aaannnyyyy second…….

Meanwhile MIL has recently been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and it’s clear she has received absolutely ZERO patient education on it. Which to be clear, for this one I’m not blaming her, I’m upset at her doctor. On Friday night she said she was only going to have 1 bite of the dessert because of her diabetes, but meanwhile at the restaurant today her meal consisted of fries, mushroom ravioli, and white bread. She has literally zero concept that she needs to change her diet in any way except avoiding cane sugar. Nor does she seem clear on what the plan is from her doctor, or if she’ll be scheduled for any sort of nutrition appointment. We keep asking her about it and she seems too flustered to advocate for herself. I really hope her doctor gets it together and gives her the resources she needs.

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cherienymphe · 10 months

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Hi, I wrote this to vent, it's ok if you don't answer, I just don't have someone to tell this to, a month ago I discovered my stepfather recording me while I was taking a shower, I cried horrible and asked him to leave, my mom and brother took care of him, I guess they questioned him if it was the first time he did it, the truth is I didn't want to see him anymore so I went to my room, that same night he left. As I said a month passed, I am not ready to talk about it with my mom, who is still talking to him, I agreed because in fact she asked me and I know they have expenses to pay together, so I said yes, but I just thought it was because of that, but really she is still talking to him as if nothing happened, it hurt me and makes me angry, one she was late, I asked her where she was and she said she went to eat with him, and still he had bought us food, it made me angry and sad, "why is my mom still talking about him knowing what he did?". " Seriously it makes me very bad, I went to "sleep" but in reality I started crying, my mom came and told me she just needed to vent, however a week ago she asked me that if he asked her to go out to eat, if I gave her permission, I got angry again and felt like yelling at her that how could she do that to me knowing how bad I get, honestly everything that has to do with him, makes me shudder, I remember that night and it scares me.So again I went to my bed to cry and she went to tell me something, I don't know what she said, because I had my headphones, so I just ignored her and fell asleep, and the day before yesterday she asked me if I was ready to talk, I said no, and I today, she was talking about my brother about him, something like that "that said hello" and yes again I got mad, she keeps talking to him, she even wants to buy him a jacket, and I know she keeps talking to him because she wanted to see if WhatsApp, that's how I found out, but I don't have the guts to tell her to stop talking to him unless it's for the expenses they have, like I said I start shaking, I want to cry and scream when I remember what he did, I want to run away from my house, I want to kill myself, but I have no job, I have no money and I have my dogs, I don't know what to do and if you wonder why we didn't report him, I think it was all the emotions of that night and I just wanted to, I was begging him to leave, he gave me the cell phone he had recorded with and I deleted everything, and what was I going to report? And in my country they don't really proceed with complaints without and evidence.

Do you have friends or family friends or other relatives you can go be with? I'm being so serious when I say I'm scared for you. Your first priority should be finding a way to get out of that house. If there's no one else you can go live with then you need to find a job asap. You need to have your own means of getting away from him and her.

What he did is disgusting and I'm beyond confused on how your mom doesn't see that as the concerning character flaw it is. This man is a pervert and has no regard for boundaries or consent. That's a very dangerous combination and I don't think I need to explain why that is. He violated you and made you feel unsafe and your mom is doing the same by not completely cutting him out of your lives as best as possible. Does she not understand that this man she calls her husband has dangerous sexually deviant feelings about you? What's not clicking for her?

In the meantime, while you handle things to try and get away from that house, I would do my best to emotionally and physically remove myself from them as best as possible. I mean only talking to her when you have to, avoiding her (bc she's made it clear she will not protect you), keeping your door locked, staying away from home as much as possible. Your top priority should be keeping yourself safe and she's made it clear that she is not safe

#asks

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memoirs-of-learning-dad · 1 year

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Ok here goes..

Hello Tumblr! This is the first time ever that I'm posting something on the internet! Haha! I mean not entirely true tbh, I have posted some photos on Facebook and shared some stuff on WhatsApp status, but the last time I have ever posted something was about my move to my current city and that was 5 years ago. A lot has happened since then - I married my lovely gf, became a father, got diagnosed with bipolar and ADHD. But I have never expressed my opinions or thoughts or typed anything more than 20 words on the internet ever! I have very few friends, COVID has made it incredibly difficult to find new friends and where I am at in my life, I don't have the courage or the time to make new friends.

I mean it's easy for some people to just share stuff, you know? be expressive just put your feelings and thoughts and opinions into words and hit post! And there it is for everybody else to see! Strangers on the internet, friends, family and everybody you know knows what you're feeling. No fear of being judged, honest to yourself and people around you. Is it liberating? Is there anybody out there who's 100% true inside and outside?

I'm different. I don't have the courage to express who I am and open myself to the internet and to not care about being judged. I'm sensitive, I hate being judged. It affects me. Nobody other than my wife, my brother and his wife and my best friend know about my mental illnesses. If my parents or friends or extended relatives find out, they'll judge me and expect me to behave a certain way maybe even try to push me away. It's not common in my culture and circle to live a normal life with mental illnesses. I'm working on getting better, I take my medication regularly but the only thing people will care about is the illness. Everybody who knows us thinks I'm a good father (I like to think I'm doing ok), but I am 100% confident those same people will not feel the same way once they learn about my illnesses. I'm not gonna sit here and lie saying it doesn't affect me. Will my daughter be able to make friends in my community when her friends parents learn I'm bipolar? Why should she pay? I cannot show my true self to the world other than a few trusted people. So here I am on an anonymous platform just typing what I'm thinking without worrying about what people who know me might think!

I've spent 33 years on this earth, learning, adapting - seeking that sense of mental peace and satisfaction. Enjoying the small things. I am blessed, like genuinely blessed - God himself chose me to be the father of this beautiful person - my daughter - my life! Words cannot express what I feel for her. And this new desire to post stuff, to have a memoir of my life is for her.

I want her to have somewhere to go to learn what I was like - how I have grown over the years. How my ideals and my perspectives change with time. Who I will grow up to be. Who I will be remembered as after I die. A legacy? Something to remember this insignificant human being, one among billions trying hard every day to be a better father, to be a better husband, a loyal son, a supportive brother, a good friend.

So here goes - I'm committing to write my thoughts on here moving forward. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep up with it? But I'm going to try. I have to start somewhere. My father used to tell me when I was young to write a diary. My wife used to tell me when we got married that I need to note down my thoughts somewhere, maybe in a journal. My therapist thinks it's really healthy for me to write my thoughts. Yes, I'm taking a leap of faith - putting my faith and trust in strangers on the internet. Hear my story - it's as ordinary as it gets. Maybe that's what is going to make it special? A memoir about a regular guy, living an ordinary life, trying to be a good person - not changing the world or anything but just a cog in the machine we call a functioning society.

So my sweet little princess, this is for you. Over the first of the next few years I will post here how much I love you, how lovely and caring your mother is and how she's making me a better person everyday. You are turning 2 years old today and it's a journey for both of us. I hope to guide you on the right path and give you everything you need to make the most of your life. And this right here will hopefully be my narration of that journey!

Happy Birthday Paapu! Here's a (worthless?) gift for you - a diary to tell you my perspective of the parenting journey!

#positivity #father #ordinary things

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survey--s · 1 year

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543.

Have your parents ever tried to control your relationship? No.

Have you ever had to give someone directions before? Sure, loads of times. I lived in a tourist village for ages and people were constantly asking how to get to various places, lol.

Speaking of which, are you good at understanding driving directions? I’m better at following road signs than reading a map.

How many people do you text daily? Maybe 2-3 people, but that includes text, WhatsApp and Messenger.

Do you have an iPod or an MP3 player? Which brand? I use my iPhone for music.

What was your favorite television show as a child? Arthur, Barney, Smurfs, Teletubbies.

Do you play any instruments? Which instruments do you play? Not anymore, but I used to have piano, recorder, cornet and guitar lessons.

Is there anyone who you call by their last name? Not anymore.

What did you do on your last birthday? It snowed pretty badly - I had a couple of cat visits to do and we got takeaway but otherwise that was it.

Which of the Seven Deadly Sins do you commit the most? Sloth, for sure.

Has anyone ever told you that you're incapable of whispering? Yeah, definitely.

What is your least favorite subject in school? I always hated maths.

Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before? No.

Do you know a couple who constantly sucks on each other's face? Bleugh, no, thankfully not.

Who was the best kisser you've ever dated? My husband or Joshua.

When was the last time you watched a YouTube video? Yesterday. I watch quite a few TV series on there that I can’t find anywhere else.

Have you ever babysat a newborn baby before? No, just toddlers and up.

How many times a week do you usually see the person you love? We’re married and live together, so everyday, multiple times a day lol.

When was the last time you held someone's hand? I have no idea, I’m not a fan of hand-holding really.

How many meals have you eaten today, so far? Two - cereal for breakfast and a jacket potato for lunch.

Do you think it's stupid for people to call others "hot?" No.

Do you personally think Wikipedia is a reliable source? It can be if you check all the references properly.

Are you someone who listens to more girl or guy bands? A pretty even mixture of both.

Have you ever shopped at Wet Seal before? Did you like it? We don’t have that store here.

Do you care about spending money if it's someone else's money? I’m definitely more cautious if I know someone else is picking up the bill.

What is your favorite Disney movie of all time? The original Alice in Wonderland.

When you were a child, did you ever want to become a wizard/witch? No.

What are the color of your walls? Do you want to repaint? The walls in this room are red and grey, the kitchen is cream, the bathroom yellow, the spare room is green and the bedroom is pale purple. Our bedroom, bathroom and kitchen all need repainting at some point.

Would you rather have hardwood floors or carpet? I love the look of hardwood + rugs but living where we do, carpets make much more sense as it gets so cold in winter.

Do you have any siblings you neglect you? I don’t have siblings.

Who would you say is the most selfish person you know? No-one in particular is coming to mind right now.

Who was the last person you yelled at? Why? The dog for eating cat shit lol.

As a kid, did you ever go to camp? Yeah, I had to go to day camp most summers and I absolutely hated it.

What were the last three movies you watched in theaters? I haven’t been to the cinema for years lol. The last film I saw was Cats but I can’t remember the ones I saw before then.

Have you ever made out in a movie theater before? Sure, loads of times.

Are you currently trying to learn to play any instrument? Nope.

Do you believe in ghosts, spirits or demons? I don’t believe or disbelieve in them.

When was the last time you went somewhere you thought was haunted? Never.

What is your favorite breakfast meal? Poached eggs on sourdough toast with avocado and bacon OR American-style pancakes with butter, maple syrup, bacon and blueberries.

What does the lead singer of your favorite band look like? Dead, lol.

Who was the last person to compliment you? I can’t remember, Suzy maybe?

How old were you when you got to go on your first date? Fourteen.

Would you call your parents over-protective or under-protective? My dad was definitely over-protective, my mum got the balance about right.

Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? Sure. I remember our local garden centre had one of those for some reason and my dad used to take me there on rainy weekends a lot.

What is the best movie you've seen in the last five years? I honestly couldn’t pick just one.

Has anyone ever called you a good kisser before? Sure.

Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? No siblings.

Are you the jealous type? Everytime I’ve experienced jealousy it’s been for a valid reason.

Does life ever seem overly ironic to you? Ha, definitely feels that way sometimes.

When was the last time you felt like you were high on life? I honestly don’t know.

Do you know someone who cares about themselves more than their child? Yep, lots of shitty parents out there unfortunately.

Do you still watch cartoons on television? I watch The Simpsons but I don’t really watch any kids cartoons.

What do you usually order at Taco Bell, if you go there? The nearest Taco Bell is hours away - I’ve never been.

Is there anyone currently annoying you? Just how humid it is. It’s giving me a headache.

What's your favorite hairstyle you've had so far? Meh, my hair doesn’t really do decent hairstyles lol.

Do you have freckles? I have a few on my nose and cheeks, but they’re not very noticeable.

How many dogs do you have, if any at all? One.

Have you ever witnessed someone being beaten up? Yes.

Do you think biting is weird or sexy? I mean, it depends on the circumstances.

Would you rather be called hot or beautiful? Beautiful.

#survey #surveys

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wealthyjanat · 1 year

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Miserable is no longer just a feeling it’s a way of life. Sometimes I just wish I would have died at child birth or something. Yu can’t think clearly when you’ve always countlessly been rejected.. humiliated and verbally abused. Yu start to wonder. Did you ever mean anything to the person at any time? Why the are treating you how the are? Are you good enough? I get it. The space between what we know and what we assume is a lot. But no body can read silence. Unspoken words and feelings not shared and your not allowed to poke around to find out then you’d be too desperate. The truth is, if a person wants to be with you they’d let you in. Completely. I was younger once, chased rainbows in the name of love. Had a failed relationships, had my nude which I was also sending to a boy she introduced me to mistakenly sent to my then boyfriend which he leaked. I was raped alongside twice by the first one an attempted rape by someone I’d consider a cousin and then my sister’s husband’s best man that left me bleeding for a whole month and had nobody to talk to about it. Dated my abuser. In an other Neglected and left with a baby. Somehow it’s all ppl from my elder sister. Mentally I am stable but my heart can’t bear any more pains. The laugh at my pain or relationship matters concerning me and dismissing it widely. Do you know what that does to my mental health? Am a person, I feel, I breathe not a tv reality show talk for the internet or ppl to openly discuss. I deserve love, I deserve privacy, I deserve a good mental health. People are making bold assumptions about me, about my life in order to keep me from growing and improving. I don’t hate my sister but I believe it’s a childhood anger and if not I am done trying to understand her or my other siblings or mother. I have my life to LIVE. At 33 no husband, no boyfriend. No financial aid. I have seen housewives loved and respected. I have seen single mothers loved and respected and don’t give me the crap about luck it’s not real. When your name and image has been tainted from a young age like pole has done worse give me a break and is still loved up on. I deserve it all.

I am starting to think God doesn’t exist.. I am not jealous nor bitter. Hear my story, walk in my shoes yu be drinking a poison or hanging by the rope. This is a person’s life We are talking about here.

I am also not lazy.. my child has been sexually molested at 3 going to a job. I have been severely burnt doing a hand and carry sales and other things I have attempted. Selling my used clothes to be able to feed but meanwhile my child has a father.

My family calls me a beggar and other behavioral issues from their husbands and friends. My so called friends I thought I had all abandoned me. Where we not all doing the same weed and cigarettes and alcohol and sleeping with men to survive. We are grown and you lot are happily married and am the one to be avoided and the coy word ghosted to be applied in her life.

My child is my child and so the same ill treatment and fate to fall on him? I pray good for yu all family and friends but yu wish me and my child evil. The karma will catch up to yu all not later.

Screenshot my WhatsApp status… pass it round. Put it on the streets and internet amongst yur selfs and the ones doing yur dirty jobs for yu all it won’t break me. If there is God he will handle yu all. If there isn’t yur karma is inevitable.

But I won’t stop trying to be a good mother to my child and taking care of me how I can cause it’s really tough out. So don’t stand in my way or try to stop me bullying me or pulling some cheap tricks with yur losers squad. God is watching. I am sure there is something bigger than us all and will rise to vindicate me.

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headspaceinanutshell · 1 year

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Big Leap of Faith

We are nearly at the end of August and so much has been going on to catch up on. On my last post, I spoke about opening myself up and pushing myself out to meet people. I was on a dating app trying to speak to new people and find a connection.

There were multiple failed attempts and I soon realised that online dating is a total minefield. I struggled to open up and let my guard down for so long, even just by going to meet people for a walk or a coffee. It felt totally unnatural to me. I still felt like I was doing something wrong. My ex husband and I are currently finalising the divorce with no contact what so ever, so I really shouldnt be punishing myself for trying to be happy.

After a terrible experience on a date I was almost ready to give up. Truly.

Then, I began getting to know someone, as you do on these online dating apps. We had a bit of small talk over the app and soon moved the conversation to WhatsApp. The conversation went on for a few days, constant talking and 'Get to know each other' questions. We had so much in common I almost found it intimidating. Never the less, I didn't want it to hold me back.

As the chats were going so well, we had arranged to meet up for a first date on the Saturday. This was the same week we had started talking. I would usually feel those reservations but I felt comfortable talking to him.

Saturday arrived and it was time for us to meet. We had arranged to meet in a local place and then he would drive us to a place for a walk together. The nerves started to kick in as I was walking up to the meeting spot. All those thoughts going through my head such as:

What if he doesn't like me?

What if he finds me boring?

What if I look bad?

There were moments walking up to the meeting spot which I very nearly turned back around and went home. I've been known to do this before. The reassurance was that we seem to have had a connection over message.

I finally got to the meeting space, the walk felt like ages but it's literally down the road, 5 mins max! The nerves were a killer. As I got there, I could see him getting out of the car and walking towards me. I can't explain it but I felt at ease, we smiled at each other and gave each other a hug. We grabbed what we needed from the shop, got in the car and off we went. It was calm, conversation flowed and it just felt nice.

We got to the walk and without going into to much detail, we walked around 5 miles and just had constant conversations about life, experiences and each other. He had brought his dog along for the walk who seemed to be having the time of her life on the walk!

After our walk around the route, he suggested that we go to a small local cute down for a wander and a drink. It was a Beautiful sunny day and we clearly didn't want the day to end.

All through the date, I felt lighter, a sense of happiness and excitement to finally have potentially met someone like this. I sat back at times where we were sitting close and hoped that he liked me and wanted to kiss me. He was very respectful and didn't want to make me feel uncomfortable. I just thought that maybe I wasn't what he had expected but their was a spark in him that lead me to believe, he did like me.

On the drive home, we realised that we had spend a full 8 hours together on our first date. It didn't feel that way, time went so quick. As we neared to my house for me to be dropped off, I thought if I don't show him how I feel, I will regret it. The car stopped outside my house and as we went in for a hug, I went in for a kiss. I've never been so bold if I'm honest but it felt right.

I went into the house, feeling like I've not felt in a very long time. We exchanged conversation through the evening and even arranged to meet up again the next day.

Jump to today and we have been dating for just over 2 months. So I can say, I have a boyfriend. (Cringey to say, I know) We have met each others parents and spent almost everyday together. It feels like a whirlwind but it feels right. We have a lot in common but many differences at the same time. Both of us are Gemini which can be a deadly combination but clearly there is a bond which is special. I just hope he feels it too.

So yeah, you can find love after love. I can't deny, I am terrified of being hurt again. I never want to go through what I did before but I have taken the leap and we will see where this all goes.

#new relationship #love after love

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thebaepatricia · 1 year

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Book Review • Maybe Next Time by Cesca Major 📝💖🥺⌛️

Maybe Next Time by Cesca Major Genre: Magical realism, Literary fiction, Adult romance ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (5/5)

One Day meets Groundhog Day, in this heartwarming and emotionally poignant novel about a stressed woman who must relive the same day over and over, keeping her family and work life from imploding as she attempts to spare her husband from an unfortunate fate.

It is an ordinary Monday and harried London literary agent Emma is flying out of the door as usual. Preoccupied with work and her ever growing to-do list, she fails to notice her lovely husband Dan seems bereft, her son can barely meet her eye, and her daughter won't go near her. Even the dog seems sad.

She is far too busy, buried deep in her phone; social media alerts pinging; clients messaging with "emergencies"; keeping track of a dozen WhatsApp groups about the kids' sports, school, playdates, all of it. Her whole day is frantic--what else is new--and as she rushes back through the door for dinner, Dan is still upset. They fight, and he walks out, desolate, dragging their poor dog around the block. Just as she realizes it is their anniversary and she has forgotten, again, she hears the screech of brakes.

Dan is dead.

The next day Emma wakes up... and Dan is alive. And it's Monday again.

And again. And again.

Emma tries desperately to change the course of fate by doing different things each time she wakes up: leaving WhatsApp, telling her boss where to get off, writing to Dan, listening to her kids, reaching out to forgotten friends, getting drunk and buying out Prada. But will Emma have the chance to find herself again, remember what she likes about her job, reconnect with her children, love her husband? Will this be enough to change the fate they seem destined for?

A moving "What if" story of what it is to be a woman in the modern world--never feeling we're getting it quite right--about learning to slow down and appreciate life that is sure to resonate with women's fiction readers.

Book Review

Maybe Next Time is an emotional, moving, heartwarming, and reflective novel. Emma and Dan's marriage/relationship is a rare one. Seldom you would see a love so pure and genuine that, despite their differences and life's challenges, they would continue to choose each other over and over again.

Over Dan's multiple deaths, Emma underwent all stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance - and they were all called for. Putting myself in Emma's shoes, I wouldn't also know how to keep going on with my Mondays either knowing my husband will die that very evening - and that I would have to go through it again and again, indefinitely.

I can understand Emma's drive to be constantly preoccupied - I suffer from that, too. So in between listening to the audiobook, I would ask myself, am I being present enough? Am I making conscious effort to take care of myself? To cover tasks for the benefit of long-term goals? Or am I just driven by temporary and short-lived wins, to say that I'm productive or have achieved something while neglecting bigger and more important things?

Objectively, I believe Emma's character is not likable but she's not despicable either - she simply does her best be it for work or for her family. However, once she accepted her tentative fate and embraced the "curse" of repeating her days as a "gift," I appreciated how she worked on improving things little by little, even when she had to do it again the next day. And she would always come up with ways to see things at a better light. She couldn't control the days, but she could control how to spend them. As my own Dan would say, she's "moving the needle."

Novel Dan is a side character in the story, but he made a huge impact through the letters he wrote to Emma yearly on their date-versary. And surprisingly, his is the biggest plot twist in the novel.

The ending was a bit confounding (and a small part of me hated Dan for it). It was also a massive cliffhanger, but I LOVED it.

Had I not been in the dining area, I would have bawled listening to Dan's last letter to Emma. It was exactly what I needed to hear at the moment. I knew right then and there I found another well-deserving 5-star read and a hidden gem.

Personal relevance/takeaway:

Just like Emma, I tend to preoccupy myself with tasks, even with non-urgent ones, just so I could fill up my time and pretend to be productive. A lot of times, it doesn't go well for me. When I push myself too much, I end up burnt out, disoriented, high-strung, and in need of rest - STAT.

But in life, it's better to have a life you don't need a break from. To give yourself breaks regularly enough so you don't get filled to the brim and burst over the most trivial things.

0 notes

ketso · 2 years

Text

Episode 23

Keith and I are in Tholoana Kingdom. Senzi’s biological father is doing some sort of ritual for Senzi today. Senzi will be accepting the Maphumulo surname and divorcing the Twala surname. That’s how Wandi explained it to us. This has been quite the time for Wandi and Senzi. But Wandi says that since Senzi’s biological father extended the olive branch to him, he has been a lot more at peace. And I’m happy for him. He needs this and he deserves peace.

We left Risuna with my mother. He cried when he left and that made Keith feel some type of way. But we can’t bring Risuna to these kinds of things. I’ve come here to support the Maphumulo family and help where I can. Risuna would have people thinking ke phuthile matsoho instead of helping out in the house. Maybe when he is a little bit older like Morafe’s kids, I’d be able to take him everywhere because he’d see other kids and just play. But right now, all he wants is Keith and me. And we will both be busy.

We phoned my mom thirty minutes into our drive to Tholoana Kingdom from Sebokeng. She told me that Risuna stopped crying five minutes after we left. He’s now chilling and being busy in his playpen. Keith was relieved. We also know that when Risuna is with my mom, Keith’s mom can pop in and see him any time because she’s right next door. Risuna is very aware of both his grandmothers, and I actually think that it’s beautiful.

We arrive at the location that Wandi sent us at about 9am. Apparently this mansion that we see before us is where Senzi’s biological father lives with his wife and other kids. Lady Laura doesn’t play hey. Have everything or she doesn’t want you at all. Yoh!

Keith and I get out of the car and make our way inside. Morafe finds us first. She and I hug and are super excited to see each other. Someone comes to take Keith. He introduces himself as Reahile. We both say that we are happy to meet him then he and Keith disappear. Morafe and I make our way into the house. Keith finds someone to help him offload all the things my mom made for us to bring with us: four buckets of ginger beer (i.e. gemere) six buckets of baked biscuits and scones, and three containers of amagwinya.

I get into the kitchen and I’m introduced to so many people. Wandi’s mom hugs me as well. When she sees the stuff that we brought coming into the kitchen, she asks me why my mom didn’t come with us.

“She’s looking after Risuna for us”, I tell her.

The guys are already digging into the amagwinya and gemere.

“Heh bathung!” A lady named Letlali says.

Apparently, people haven’t eaten. We are waiting for the rituals to be completed.

“Mah, we are hungry. We’ve been here since 5am. Aowa”, a guy named Mnqobi says. Apparently, it’s her son.

No but these men just finished a whole container. Then older men come - apparently husbands to the women in here. They box the second container… and the third. The wives complained then eventually let them be. When they left with amagwinya and two buckets of gemere, we women helped ourselves to baked scones and biscuits and gemere as well. Mama is definitely the MVP of the morning.

Now people are in their squads. I’m chilling with Morafe.

“Where are the kiddies?” I ask her.

“With my sister. I didn’t want to wake them up too early. Thabang will arrive with them around lunch time”. She says.

“Hai bo! Madam! Wena leThabang?”

She’s been keeping us updated on the WhatsApp group. These two…

“He’s really great with my kids watsiba”, she says.

“And he’s great with you too”, I say.

“He is. I just don’t know if I’m ready. But I might just be forced to marry him”, she says.

“What do you mean?” I ask her.

“Eish chomi. I’ll tell you and Wandi together a bit later on. Is Lady Laura coming?” She asks me.

As the receptionist, I know and hear everything. I’m just professional about it so you’d never know that I know stuff.

“She wanted to shame. Apparently, Wandi’s mom encouraged her to come here and support her son. I mean, Senzi is her son. Yoh, bishop a re nix! He basically said that Lady Laura and Senzi have embarrassed him enough. If she attends this, they are done. She’s not here, so I guess she… you know…”

“Ke sono watsiba. Senzi wabathu.”

“Eish wena”.

Senzi, Wandi and the Maphumulo family finally step into the kitchen where the women are. We hear ululating. We see by their smiles that it’s all peaches and cream. Plus, it’s raining and apparently that’s all related to luck for the ceremony.

We greet Wandi and Senzi. Then we get to meet Senzi’s father, his two brothers - Ntuthuko and Akwande - as well his very nice stepmother, Mme Refiloe. Everyone here calls her Fifi.

This rain is now pouring. Then Wandi has been tasked with washing animal insides. So Morafe and I are helping her. But we are being poured on. Morafe’s phone rings mid our chatter and laughter.

“Thabang”, she answers her phone.

…

“I’m worried about the rain, watsiba”.

…

“Okay. There are some kids here. It’s just… ke bana. They’ll want to play in the rain.”

…

“Okay cool. Ke tla le bona when you get here”.

…

“Shup”.

She hangs up.

Wandi and I both look at her.

“He was asking if he should still bring the kids with the rain and all”, she says.

“You said you might need to marry him. Why?” I ask.

“What?!” Wandi.

Morafe seems a bit down.

“Bryan found me.” She says.

“WHAT?!” Wandi and I both say.

“Yeah. He kept trying to break into our house. Then I asked Thabang to just look after the house while I went home with the kids. Thabang found him. He was taken to a prison and I had to go identify him because he came into the kingdom with a fake ID”, she says.

“Bathung wena!” Me.

“So, when I identified him, the government dealt with him. The next thing, his family comes to my mom’s house and states that now that Bryan is dead, I have to marry his brother so the kids can still be raised in their family. And they want me to go back to Zim with them.”

“MORAFE!” Wandi and I say.

“I obviously said no. I’m not going to Zim and I want nothing to do with that family. Then they said they’d take Tshenolo and Mosetsana because they are their children. My mom told them where to get off because Bryan didn’t even bring a chicken to acknowledge those kids. Those kids are Letuka kids and that’s that. They said they’d fight us. Legally, in Tholoana Kingdom, they can’t touch us. We are protected. Thabang suggested that we get married. If we get married, he will acknowledge my kids and they’ll have his surname. Then he has recourse to actually protect us and fight that family for us.” She says.

“So, what’s your reservation about marrying him?” Wandi.

“He’s married. To two women.” Morafe.

“If you don’t love him, why do you care?” Me.

“I’m worried about how my kids would be received in his family.” Morafe.

“What is he saying about that?” I ask her.

“He says I have nothing to worry about. I just can’t help but worry.” Morafe.

“I say go for it. One, I think you really like him more than you are letting on. Two, you and the kids will have a senatla who has your back. And three, clearly with his influence and position in this country, you’ll be more than untouchable. And four, you’ll get some on a regular basis without the abuse.” Me.

We look at each other. We burst into laughter.

“I’m with Bassie on this one”, Wandi.

Morafe just laughs.

“Ladies”, Mme Refiloe says. I think she came to check on us.

“Hi mme.” we say.

“Nama ishup?” She asks us.

We are actually done washing it. She inspects it then she takes it to go and start cooking it. Then she gives us tasks in the kitchen, the biggest one being that we must mingle with the other girls that are here.

We don’t mind. And we would have done so eventually. We just needed to catch up as well. We haven’t been together like this in a very long time.

…

It’s about 6pm now and we see our women walking towards us with food. Yoh, we are super grateful. We’ve been working in the rain all day surviving on biscuits and scones. We are super exhausted. We actually look around us to see if there are vacant chairs where our women will sit. Negative. But no one is prepared to stand up and get more chairs. These women get here and just sit on top of us, holding plates for us to eat. It seems like they’ve already eaten. Okay… this also works.

“Keith, how are you?” Wandi greets me.

I greet her, hugging her. Bassie is chatting to Senzi as well. Then Morafe greets us as well, introducing us to a man named Thabang. We met as we were all in hard labour together. But now we know whose plus one he is.

It’s just loud here. And everyone is chatting away. I’m just eating. I’m starving. So is Senzi.

“Mama says Risuna has discovered her cupboards now”, Bassie tells me.

I actually just start laughing. He’s a very curious kid and I’m always too scared to leave him unattended.

“So, we could be in shit if he breaks anything because apparently, he likes opening cupboards and chilling in them now.”

I’m just laughing.

“When do you guys head back to South Africa?” Senzi asks me.

“Tomorrow. Then next week we will meet up with everyone in Mtubatuba”. I answer him.

“Why don’t you stay another day? Then we can chill tomorrow without the noise?” Senzi.

“Work. Things have been a bit tricky since…”

I cannot finish my sentence.

“I understand”, Senzi says as he nods his head at me.

“How is she? My moth - … Lady Laura. How is she? Is she okay?” Senzi asks me.

Bassie and I look at each other. Wandi and Senzi look at us. Morafe is also looking in our direction.

I take a deep breath then say, “she’s not coping. She misses you. She asks Bassie and I about you all the time. She asked me if you’d ever forgive her and love her again.”

“And the bishop? He’s not there for her?” Senzi.

“He’s making her pay for what she did… guilt-tripping her every chance he gets… making it seem as if she should make a choice between you and him. And if she chooses you, to him it means that she’s not sorry for what she did. And that you come first over him.” Me.

“The bishop?” Senzi. He’s genuinely shocked.

“Yeah. Like he’s changed. We all don’t recognise him anymore. Their relationship has changed. We don’t recognise it anymore. It’s actually coming across as an abusive relationship now. And since the bishop’s sisters and mother have arrived, it’s worse.” Bassie.

“What?! His family has arrived? Living where? And to do what?” Senzi.

“It’s insane. They’ve taken over the church. They seem to have taken over Lady Laura’s house. And they threaten to send her back to Ghana every chance they get”, Bassie needs to stop over sharing this information.

Senzi is seriously disturbed.

“Why is Lady Laura allowing all of this to happen?” Wandi enquires.

“Yeah… I mean this is completely unlike her”, Morafe says. The Thabang guy looks extremely uncomfortable with this entire conversation.

“Maybe she wants to leave or fight or something, but if the bishop rejects her, she’s scared she might not even have Senzi to comfort her”, Bassie.

Senzi’s jaws tighten.

“Love, please walk me to the restroom”, Wandi says.

We know she’s saying that they need to talk.

Senzi nods his head. They both stand up then walk away.

…

We are back at our hotel now. We are literally walking into our hotel room at 6am. That event was lit. After eating, people were drinking and dancing… in the rain!

I feel very drunk. Bassie is more than tired. She heads to the bathroom but doesn’t say what she is going there to do. I just hear the shower water go off and I know she’s showering before bed. I decide to undress and join her.

I get into the shower and she receives me well. She first hides her c-section scar. Why would she hide that from me? She gave me my son through that scar.

“You are so sexy. That scar is the sexiest thing about you”, I tell her.

She smiles at me then says, “But it’s so ugly”.

“It’s stunning. It’s the most beautiful mark on your body”, I say.

I walk towards her. She wraps her legs around me. I’m instantly hard. The thing is, I’m drunk. And if we slip and fall in this shower, one of us could come out extremely injured.

So I decide to shut the water then carry her out of the shower.

I lead her to our bed then I lay her down like the queen that she is. She starts playing with herself, making me watch her. I can feel myself getting hard, about to go crazy actually.

She starts making noises of pleasure.

I can’t hold back anymore. I enter her. And I ride her like a drunk bull. I actually cum so quickly, I feel like I’ve left her unsatisfied. As I catch my breath, she climbs on top of me, ready to make sure that she is equally satisfied before we go to sleep. And fuck she rides me. She comes for everything I have that’s left within my drunk and tired body. She rides me, touching herself and using her finger to help my penis pleasure herself. I’ve never seen her like this. I’m the one who’s about to have a second cuming. And when she shakes, I’m so thankful because I know that my penis had finished a job that my drunk state couldn’t allow me to finish.

She climbs off me, says goodnight then sleeps. I hold her. She lets me. We sleep.

I wake up first the morning after. My penis still feels quite painful. This girl worked on me last night. Clearly.

I stretch a bit then reach for my phone. I see a few missed calls from my mother. I quickly call her back.

“Keith, hello”. She answers her phone.

“Mme, hi.”

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone? And you sound like you are still asleep? At this time, Keith? It’s after 1pm.”

Why is she shitting on me exactly?

“Mme, what do you need?” I ask her.

“I wanted to know if you were back in South Africa yet. Your father and I want to talk to you boys about something important and we will be having an intervention for Michael and Masingita. Masingita says that Michael moved out and is now living with a love child and its mother. She says she doesn’t want a divorce, so she’s asked the family to intervene.”

So much drama? I just woke up.

“Mme, I’m still in Tholoana Kingdom. We will probably only be back that side tonight. Bassie is still sleeping. We will come see you when we come to pick up Risuna then we can talk about this properly. We will probably have to meet another day.” I say.

“Okay. I understand. But tonight, can we at least all discuss what your father and I need to discuss with you?” She says.

“We could be back quite late, Mme.” Me.

“Bathung Keith, please try to make it back at least by 8pm hle.” She says.

“Mme, we will talk. Let me wake up and start my day.”

She sounds hacked but I’m not going to break road rules just so she can tell me that she’s having sex with my dad again.

I check my messages and I see something from Noria. What now?!

I open the message.

It reads, “I miss you. I still cannot believe that she stole you from me.”

I literally delete it with immediate effect and block her. I look at Bassie peacefully sleeping. No one is coming between us. No one.

0 notes

talesofstyles · 4 years

Text

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

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secretivemamainsg · 3 years

Text

So last night I finally went out with my gf. Was supposed to meet her up last week but work was crazy and I finished late.

I have know this gf of mine since our school days. She has always been a bit wild and with a strong character. She definitely does things she likes without caring about other people’s judgment.

I asked to meet her up to talk about my sex life and get some advises from her. Not really advises actually but more like someone’s else point of view. I would actually not really follow her advice because as much as she is my close friends, I don’t really think she is successful in some aspect of her life.

In brief, she loves sex. Nothing wrong, I myself love it too as you all know. But to me, she gives too much importance to it. She had multiple affairs, ons which inevitably led to her being divorced now.

To me, there are things you can do when you are young that you can’t do when you grow up and have responsibilities such as kids.

Anyway. I opened up to her and I don’t regret it. Our discussion was quite an eye opener to me. After our evening of chats (with drinks), I came to realise I might be fooling myself looking to spice up my sex life. To my friend, I am not ready and not really wanting what I say I want. And I somehow think she is right.

So I basically told her that I am so turned on by younger men, and by group sex. I told her I threesome with 2 ns men in infirm would be my sex dream. I went on to explain I don’t want to cheat on my husband and hence I am looking to get him into it. Then I told her I suggested a FFM threesome but as so pissed he did not look for a lady.

Let me warn you my friend is crazy and she is very very open about her sex life. For her, anything is fine as long as everybody is willing.

So I said i guess I’d have to look for a lady myself but did not know where to look for. In the coolest manner she said she’d do it. She always found my husband kinda cute and wanted to see what he was like in bed. I was so stunned. At first I thought she was joking but, well, that’s how she is. She was the most serious she can be. Anyway I told her that’d never happened. She was way too hot and too experienced in bed that my husband would be hooked to her and that he’d be bored with me after. She then offered to do it as a couple. Her and her new boyfriend with my husband and I. They could host. Again I turned her down: my husband was quite close to her ex husband and I was sure he would not be comfortable. Finally she was like : then how about just the three of us: her and her bf and me. Before I could even refuse she was like: I am sure my bf would like you and she snapped a quick pic of me and WhatsApp it to him. I told you she was crazy and well her bfs too. The guy replied, wow such a hottie. tonight? I then joked my way out with her saying she is just way too crazy to me.

But for her, I was just boring. She does not see anything wrong to have sex together as it was something we were all cool with. Knowing her, I could take my time to be totally comfortable I would not be able to with strangers. She was indeed pragmatically. Like, for her, can we have a threesome with your man was similar to can you help me drill a hole on my wall for my frame, sure? Sure, happy to help…

In the end I had a fun night. It was good to talk openly about sex. She told me so many things she did and many bad stuff that happened to her when her husband found out and how she divorced etc. But she knew the risk she was taking and knew she was guilty and would have to pay one day. Anyway, digressing.

On my way back, It hit me. Yeah, she was super open minded and quite « slutty » to me. I don’t think a lady should do what she did especially when you have kids. But here I was on the other side of the spectrum : day dreaming about fantasies but then when opportunities arise I always seem to find an excuse not to do it. Is it really silly not to just go to my friends place and see what happens?

#me

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dearfuturehusbandblog · 3 years

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I Am SO Angry

Dear Future Husband,

It's been a while since I've posted here, because there's been so much family drama and work drama and just plain depression** in my life that I had no motivation to do anything aside from lump around and watch Netflix.

And then things seemed to be getting better. But apparently not.

I'm pissed.

When I get upset at things I don't usually seethe. My natural state when I get upset is depression, but right now I am so angry that I want to just go outside and scream until I have no more voice left inside of me.

I am so mad at my mother right now and I have no one that I can talk to about it.

I've mentioned this before, but MotherLivelyHeart has problems. But one of the biggest problems is that she lives in her own head in such a way that she basically makes plans and decides things and then doesn't share them with anyone else, but then gets upset when everyone around her isn't on the same page. Like, um, you didn't tell us what you were doing/thinking, so how on earth are we supposed to know???

Well, that just happened the other day, but it's gotten worse. Let me explain:

A decade ago I had a traumatic experience. I try not to think about it, but it comes to mind every so often. I realized a little over a year ago that the 10 year anniversary was coming up and that I'd never had a seudas hodaa or benched gomel or anything when it happened, and that I probably should do something, so I added the date to my calendar and then kind of forgot about it again. But when going over my calendar last week, I saw that the Hebrew date was the Shabbos before Chanukah this year.

So, I messaged like 5 close friends and told them I didn't want to make a big deal, but thought it would be nice to have them over for a little melava malka commemorating that my experience could have been worse, but wasn't. God, that sounds so lame when I write it out like that. These are the things we celebrate? My life is pathetic.

Anyway, I included my sisters in the group, but not my mother because she has a tendency to take over these group conversations and I was absolutely not interested in any of that. I figured I'd let her know this was going on later and if she decided to join, then whatever.

But then LilSis messaged me privately and asked if everyone invited was vaxxed. I told her I thought so and she mentioned she wasn't sure about three of the five, so I told her I'd try to find out and then I private messaged all three. Two responded quickly that they were and then the third, probably my closest and dearest friend, replied that she has a policy to not disclose that information to anyone (friends/family/employers), it doesn't matter who.

So I told LilSis and she said that because she and her husband are being super careful because of LittleBean (as their pediatrician has told them to be), she wouldn't be able to come if Unvaxxed is there.

That in and of itself would be all well and good, but there's some information that predates this.

You see, MotherLivelyHeart has issues. I felt the need to reiterate that once more because she takes every F*ING thing personally. This includes any time LilSis gets busy and can't bring LittleBean by to visit her. Any time she can't see LittleBean, she takes it as LilSis and LilBIL shutting her out on purpose and denying her the right to see her grandchild. FFS.

So what predates the melava malka is MotherLivelyHeart messaging me and LilSis on Signal saying she wants to get together on Chanukah. Keep in mind, I still live with this mad woman, because of f*ing financial reasons.

This was her exact message:

My sister responded ecstatically and I was just kind of like whatever.

Literally the next day she sent this message on WhatsApp to me, my sisters, and my brother in law:

LilSis (& LilBIL) and I had already responded and she'd spoken to BigSis in person, so none of us really understood what "I haven't heard from y'all" was supposed to mean. But whatever.

There was no preamble, no reasoning for choosing the first night. It all just seemed arbitrary and like she wanted to see LittleBean first thing on Chanukah. (Maybe before the machutanim? I wouldn't put it past her, since she's stupidly competitive with them, not that they would even know).

Anyway, Wednesday night was when I realized we might have a small issue. You see, because LilSis & LilBIL are being super careful about LittleBean, if I had a possibly unvaxxed person over motzei Shabbos before Chanukah, they wouldn't want to come the first night. When I discussed this with LilSis, she concurred. I asked if another night would work and offered up the last two, giving optimal distancing time and she said that either would be great, and motzei Shabbos Chanukah would be even more fun because it's also Rosh Chodesh, but I should obviously clear it with our mother.

And so, I went to MotherLivelyHeart.

I said, "So.... I did a semi-stupid thing." And then I explained the conflict. And she was mad. Like, trying to make it seem like she wasn't mad, but she was clearly mad. When I explained it wasn't just an arbitrary melava malka, but a mini seudas hodaa or whatever, she seemed surprised it had been that long and her demeanor seemed to shift a little.

Go ahead and ask me why she was mad. Come on, you know you want to.

She was mad because she wanted to see LilSis & LilBIL + LittleBean on the first night so that she "would be free for the rest of Chanukah" to invite over some family friends who aren't vaxxed. A family that includes a mother who works in the frum school system, five little kids who all attend school in the frum school system, and the father who learns in a kollel that does not mask or distance or require any vaccines. Oh, wait, the schools the kids go to don't either.

Considering she knew it would be a conflict with LilSis & LilBIL, she figured if she had them over the first night, then it wouldn't matter that she wouldn't see them the rest of the week.

Now, keep in mind, SHE HADN'T EVEN DISCUSSED THIS WITH THAT OTHER FAMILY YET.

She was MAD at ME for planning a mini seudas hodaa melava malka because it conflicted with her NON-PLANS. Plans that she apparently had in mind when she decided on the first night of Chanukah for the family get together, but which she HAD NOT shared with ANYONE yet.

But whatever.

I told her that she could see those kids whenever she wanted, but that I was super uncomfortable with being around them in close contact indoors unmasked because we had 11 different units in our building all get COVID at the same time (9 of which had been vaxxed already) and I would rather be super careful to avoid anyone who spends their days in an environment that isn't careful. (The schools literally keep closing classes down every time a kid gets sick or a teacher tests positive. The kids are in and out of the classroom ALL THE TIME).

She seemed to come around to the idea that she could see them earlier in the week of Chanukah and then we could do the family thing on motzei Shabbos/Rosh Chodesh Chanukah. Everything seemed ok.

But no. No, of course not.

8am the very next morning I got this f*ing WhatsApp message from her.

{For those who don't know, I share a car with MotherLivelyHeart because when I was like 25, I was bullied into buying a used, manual car that I couldn't even drive and after her parents passed away MotherLivelyHeart got enough money in inheritance to trade in both our cars for one that we would share. An agreement that she seems to have forgotten because every time there's something wrong with the car, it's "our car" and I need to help out, but any time I need it and it's an inconvenience to her, it's "her" car and I need to stop being possessive over it. Forgetting for a moment that she has a problem with her legs and I do most of the driving for the shopping (which I also usually pay for) and even to take her to appointments. Yeah. And the "entitlement" she's referring to is me giving her a week's notice that I would need the car to do a chessed for someone and then actually needing the car to do that chessed for someone. It's "entitlement" because it conflicted with a thing she wanted to do that she hadn't even told me she wanted to do that night. You see a theme here?}

Anyway, she sent that message after this one which was sent to the family group chat (though I saw the other one first because of another message she'd followed it up with).

And so I was mad. Mad because I didn't "ambush" her with information. I presented it apologetically. I presented it without knowing the plans she hadn't even made yet. I presented it like, what is it now, two weeks in advance???

And then just to add to the unnecessary confusion (and I guess because nobody responded to that message) she replied to that message she sent on Thursday with this last night:

You have no idea how badly I just want to reply "whatever".

But OH, it get worse!

How does it get worse? I'm sure you're dying to know at this point. You've come this far, right?

It gets worse because while BigSis and I were sitting on the couch this evening, we heard a noise from MotherLivelyHeart's room.

BigSis pulled out a headphone and called, "Did you say something?"

MotherLivelyHeart responded, "Did you say something?"

BigSis said, "No, I thought you said something to me."

And MotherLivelyHeart responded, "No, sorry, I was just testing out this game I got on Amazon. The ______ family is coming over tomorrow and I wanted a new game for the kids to play."

And wouldn't you believe which f*ing family is coming over tomorrow.

The very same family I told MotherLivelyHeart I didn't want to be around!

AND OH, WOULDN'T YOU BELIEVE, an UNVAXXED family at that!

"But wait", you might be thinking, "didn't she just say that unvaccinated people aren't welcome in her house!?!?!?!?!?!"

🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

And now you know why I'm pissed.

I was respectful.

I didn't use names when I told MotherLivelyHeart that basically my best friend won't disclose whether or not she's vaxxed.

I was respectful to her when I private messaged this friend and told her it was with a heavy heart that I have to uninvite her, even though she's literally always the first on my list.

I was respectful when I didn't ruin the Shabbos food, which would have been so easy to do - basically all I had to do was NOT cook anything. Because even though I'm the one who makes the menu, shops, and cooks every f*ing week, with all the stuff going on at work MotherLivelyHeart and BigSis did the menu and shopping this week and then without actually asking me if I would make anything, just ASSUMED that I would! All I had to do was nothing!

I was respectful when I didn't express my anger with her Thursday, Friday, or on Shabbos.

I was so f*ing respectful.

And I'm dying inside.

I'm dying because I can't say any of this to anyone. Telling my friend or even my sister is lashon hara. Telling this to ANYONE will make them view my mother in a negative light and I would be responsible for that and any ripple effects.

I'm dying because holding this crap in is going to kill me. I'm honestly shocked it hasn't already. I've written so many "to be read at my funeral" letters over the years, because I've assumed I'd be dead already from this stress.

I'm dying because I see no future for myself. I see no way out of this insanity.

This is my life forever.

Until one of us dies, this is it.

Nothing will get better.

I have no good mazal for anything.

I have been trying to do other things, trying somehow to find another way out of this f*ing mess. But do you know how hard it is to do anything when THIS is your mindset!?

I can't find a new job because I don't operate on normal hours and I have to share a vehicle with this crazy woman.

And I don't operate on normal hours because I don't sleep right and I don't eat right.

And I don't sleep or eat right because I'm CONSTANTLY stressed and I keep my stress in my gut and my head.

And I'm constantly stressed because THIS is the crap I deal with every f*ing day.

I'm exhausted. Emotionally and physically exhausted.

And there's nobody to save me from this mess.

God doesn't care. And He controls everything. So He won't save me and He won't even let another human save me.

So are you out there somewhere? Is that even a possibility?

God seems to take every possibility of escape from me. Every possibility of happiness from me. I'll probably be the first person to live forever because He won't let me die out of spite.

I feel completely and utterly alone. Because even those who can relate to some of my experiences can't relate to my entire experience as a whole. There is no one out there who actually gets it and accepts me as the f*ing mess that I am. And they shouldn't have to, because I am a complete f*ing mess. I'm too much for me! How on earth would I not be too much for someone else? Nobody needs this crap in their life. And why would I even want to force this on anyone.

I'm literally at a point where I am fantasizing about hiring a man to literally just lay on a bed and hold me so that for even one hour of my life I'll know what that feels like. Because I don't see it ever happening for real.

But then my overthinking mind cuts in and says "but what if you do find that right man one day? how will you explain to them that you basically hired a man to not be shomer with you?" And then I'm stuck with the what-ifs. What-ifs that still feel like fantasies in and of themselves.

Do you know what it's like to cry on Shabbos because you hate your life and feel like God doesn't care about you. And then cry more because you know you're not supposed to cry on Shabbos and even though you feel like God doesn't care about you, you know you're doing something wrong to that very same God?

THIS is my life.

Why would anyone want this?

Even if knights in shining armor were real, where the hell would one be able to whisk me off to that I wouldn't feel the guilt for "abandoning" my mother regardless of how toxic she is for me?

So at this point I'm supposed to wish for Moshiach, right? I'm supposed to hope and pray for a human who will be too good for me to come on God's behalf to save me and everyone else from this godawful mess that is this life. This world. This galus.

But I have no faith. I can't honestly say that ani maamin, because I do not believe. I have hope that something will happen, but at this point I'd be happy with a nuclear holocaust that just got me off this godforsaken planet already.

I'm done with this stupidity.

I'm done with this stress.

I'm done with God keeping me alive to continue to sin even though I have begged and prayed for death for most of my life already.

At this point I'm just hoping it's the stress that kills me. People die from less all the time. How the f* am I still here?

I wish I had better news for you, FH.

I don't even know if I hope you exist anymore. Maybe it would be better for both of us if you didn't. Or maybe you could adjust your madrega a little bit so someone else is worthy of you instead, because if you're holding out for me.... I dunno. I wouldn't.

-LivelyHeart

-----------

**So, remember how I mentioned having spoken to a therapist back in like July. Guess who still hasn't gotten back in touch with her because they can't afford it!

I reached out to a local chessed organization for assistance. For oh so many reasons that didn't go well. I literally had a panic attack when I got off the phone with them.

They said they could help me out if I could get in touch with another organization who could reach out to the therapist to kind of vet her because they don't want to just arbitrarily give money to anyone who says they need it for therapy. Right. Because so many people contact chessed organizations asking for anonymous contributions to AFFORD THERAPY. *major eye roll here*

So now it's on me to get in touch with that other organization and have them connect with her. So that they can get back in contact with the chessed organization and tell them she's good so that they'll pay for me to at least start therapy. But I've been so f*ing stressed from home and work crap that I haven't had the emotional energy to do that.

I recently saw something that said "SELF CARE IS TOUGH WHEN YOU DON'T CARE." I hate the source, but that sentence resonated with me, because it's basically my life in a nutshell.

But you know what's even sadder: Not caring so much that you can't tell whether or not you care anymore.

#jumblr #frumblr #orthodox #shidduch #dating #jewishdating #jewish dating #jewish #frum #shadchan #shadchanim #shidduchim

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khaleesiofalicante · 4 years

Text

Malec Music Headcanons

Alec likes to hum when he is intently focusing on a task. It is a subconscious habit and he is probably not aware of it. He hums when he polishes his bow, when he applies his runes, when he gets dressed, when he makes coffee in the morning. It’s always a different song and most of the time it is out of tune as well.

He also whistles when he is happy or when he is really trying to seem nonchalant. Unfortunately, he is not good at being nonchalant. (Okay, what did you do? Nothing! Can’t a man whistle in pea-Alexander...Fine, I spilled lipstick in your valentino bag...YOU SPILLED LIPSTI-)

The first time Magnus hears Alec sing is when he is putting Max to sleep. Alec was kneeling next to crib, holding onto one of Max’s tiny blue fingers and singing something in French. Magnus couldn’t recognize the lullaby but it seemed like Alec knew it well considering Alec’s french was only as good as his Spanish.

Alec does not want his friends to know he sings at all. Well, to be honest, he just doesn’t want one of them to know. (But if you join the band, I can come to the sho-Magnus, I am not joining anything that is called Cucumbers & Cocaine!!!)

The first time Alec hears Magnus sing is on the night of his little brother’s first death anniversary. Alec was lying his head on Magnus’ lap and willing himself not to cry. Magnus’s ringed fingers were threading through Alec’s dark hair as the warlock sang something soft and soothing. Alec did not speak the language and he did not understand but he recognized the language immediately. It seemed beautiful, mystical and poetic - just like his Magnus.

Alec likes it when Magnus sings to him. He likes it when Magnus sings to their children. He likes it when Magnus sings period. Sometimes he pretends to be sad so Magnus would sing to him. (Alec, I am not going to sing to you because you lost one of your arrows! But it was my favorite one!! THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME OH MY G-EXCUSE YOU I KNOW THE DIFFERENCE!!)

Magnus loves karaoke. He loves the karaoke machine, the lights, the stage - all of it. The gang has karaoke sessions every month at malec’s apartment. The theme for last month was ‘Blasts from the Past’. They basically sang songs of artists whom Magnus had dated. Alec was found to be pouting a lot and boy did things get wild that night. Also, Simon may or may not have passed out when he found out that Magnus had a one night stand with Freddie Mercury.

Magnus loves to talk about music and its history. Alec is not particularly interested but he loves watching Magnus talk about it. Magnus once mentioned how he missed the 70s and the art of making mixtapes for partners because it was so much more romantic than ‘sending youtube links through whatsapp!’. And of course, Alec ended up making a mixtape for Magnus. It’s called ‘Let me Romance You’. Magnus carries it and his little cassette player with him every time he travels for work.

Magnus loves listening to the violin when he is alone. Alec has noticed that Magnus seems both somber and pleased anytime he listened to the violin - as if the sound was both plesant and painful at the same time.

Some of Magnus’ favorite artists to perform are Beyonce, Britney Spears, Queen, Prince and Guns n Roses. Alec has never, ever done a Beyonce number to cheer up Magnus when he was having a day. Not ever. Nope. (But you were so good the first time! Just one mo-Magnus, I don’t know what you are talking about! I did no such thing!!!)

Alec is a little self-conscious about his singing. He sometimes wishes he had the stage presence of Izzy or could play an instrument like Jace. Music means a lot to Magnus and Alec wishes he was not as bad as he was - considering Magnus was good at it in every possible way. Until one day, Magnus finds a charango while they are in the flee market. (Darling, how is it? I have not played in a while but I think I still got it! What do you think??? It’s good, Magnus.This is fine...)

When Magnus finds about Alec’s worry of not being musically talented, he reassures his husband that he doesn’t care. (Your voice is my favorite music. Your name is my favorite melody. It doesn’t matter to me, my Alexander)

This one is for @littleturtle95 and Annie from earlier today - I hope you like it 💚

#malec headcanons #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #tsc

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deepdonutkid · 4 years

Text

Social media and the Shelby Family

Let’s go from youngest to oldest…

Finn, as said in the first part, is an influencer, who likes to live his life online. He tweets a lot, he has a ton of insta stories and likes to keep his followers updated. Also he follows some trends like trying bubble tee or these weird tik tok dances. Finn even bribed his brothers to try some with him. They refused of course. Tommy said a no and walk right out of the room. John laughed and brushed it off. Arthur tried, but failed hilariously. Good for him, that Finn was teaching him the steps and not filmed the miserable attempt. Michael did and was actually good… and Ada did quite okay. Well, Polly wasn’t even asked, because Finn already knew her answer was no.

A lot of his pictures online are with his friends, especially Jesaja. They skate sometimes and film their tricks. (I added this, because I saw a video of Finn’s Actor- Harry Kirton- skating and I thought it also fit Finn) Whenever he is eating something instagramable, he definitely take a picture. Finn also take good selfies, but he only uses funny filters. So no Dog ears or sparkly flowers here!

He answers messages mostly direct, no waiting time, ‘cus this guy doesn’t play games, but as a Gen Z he would definitely be scared of phone calls. Especially if it’s Polly and there are already two missed calls. Then he just freaks out right away.

And to add a little funny extra: Finn tried among us on his phone and he is kinda sus!

His Whatsapp status would be: “my milkshake brings all the bees to my car. Shit… there are bees in my car!”

-.-.-.-.-

Michael is king of selfie. He knows he looks like god’s gift to the women and he plays that card. His phone is filled with all kinds of selfies. Little narcissist, here! Well, he needs to take a picture from every ankle to capture his beauty.

He also posts some stories on insta, but not so often like Finn. Michael keeps it casual. Just a few party pictures with friends or something super cool like new car.

But as we all know Michael Gray, he likes to play games with da ladies. So sometimes you wouldn’t even get a goodnight from him. If you tease him, he’ll tease back. Probably posts a picture with another woman. She is just a friend, but you’ll not know that. Yes, he can be mean, but if you’ll call him drunk and late at night, that you miss him, he’ll be glad to hear that.

His status would be: “P1 cleaner than your church shoes.” And yes, this is a weeknd lyric from the song starboy

-.-.-.-.-.-

Ada. Yes. I almost forgot her. How could I? She is gorgeous!

Already mentioned in part one… She knows her stuff pretty well. Technology… no problem for this gal right here. Ada can hack into stuff and write codes and programs, but this also made her very aware of data getting misused or stolen from bots. This is why she chose to keep distance from social media. She doesn’t use the gram or snapchat or whatsoever, but she uses secure text messenger and is likely to be found on a super dank meme page and to understand the memes you need the knowledge of years and years internet culture. And Ada talks to Finn and Michael about unprotected data and how they shouldn’t spill so much information about them online.

But she takes a lot of pictures from her kids, her husband, her cute outfits, her house and garden, their vacations. She doesn’t use a normal cloud and prefers to show you the pictures together. One after one and she’s making a comment to every single one of them. About that she could talk for hours.

Her status would be… well, she wouldn’t have any!

-.-.-.-.-.-

So… John-boy! Here isn’t much to say. He uses Instagram, but it’s a rare thing. John might follow some artist, so he is up to date for new concerts to go to and also some friends, but that’s it. On a good day which happens to be every half year he might post a picture, when he went somewhere. To get a new tattoo or if he went to see a game, probably soccer and rugby. If he gets the chance to travel, he’ll make pictures, but he totally forgets to post them or even show them to his family. He prefers to talk with his brothers about the experience of traveling and not starting a slide show.

What he is talking pictures of? Selfies are rare, but do happen, if they are a special request from a gal… and it’s probably shirtless, ‘cus he has got the body. Then again, he took pictures, if he was abroad, not on the usual roads, but only a few. While texting he might send a funny meme, if he sees any and thinks of you. And the occasional picture of “Look what I just got”… and it’s a Vinyl or a band shirt. Even though, he answers his family rarely, when he is in Birmingham, he’d be texting with his lady a lot, having this grin on his face, while Ada asks who he is writing to.

His status would be something like: “punk in drublic.” Which is a festival for said genre, but he just finds it funny. Likely to add “Y/N with an emoji of choice”, when he is in a relationship.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tommy hates social media and refuses to try it for a long time, but Finn uses it so much, that Tommy had a little interest, what’s going on there. His youngest brother had a lot of explaining to do, which probably went like:

T: “How do I tell the person I like the picture?”

F: “There is the comment button.”

T: “No, I mean the… like thing.”

F: “Double tap on the picture, Tom.”

T: “Good, so… what’s next?”

F: “Nothing. What should happen?”

T: *shrug* “So, this is completely useless!” *deletes the app immediately*

And Tommy is also not the guy to answer private messages directly or often. Sometimes you said on read for days with this fellow, because he is super busy and doesn’t have the time to type. If you’re lucky, you get a quick okay. But if it’s important, he’ll call you right away and asks what happened, and if you need any help. With business he always answers straight and don’t like to waste time.

He doesn’t take pictures really. There may be some incidences where he hit the button by mistake. And there some photos of documents, which he need proof of… so he doesn’t have to rip out a page from a book like its 1920s. And all the pictures of his family has been send to him, he just don’t delete them.

His status would be: “Available” or “At work. Only important calls.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

Arthur… well… he has Facebook and uses it like anyone going on forty… really weird boomer mems, that might have been funny ten years ago. He sends them to everyone and they’re so annoyed by it, but he spares Tommy as his time is too important to waste on ‘funny pictures’.

Some gave him an Echo thing, the one with Alexa, you know, and he was so frustrated by it, that he threw the thing against the wall. Arthur couldn’t get past the set-up and got to angry. His family laughed about it, but it’s better this way.

Thanks to Finn and his little videos, Arthur became a meme himself, because his little brother filmed him while Arthur did something ridiculously stupid. That vid went viral. (Unsure what he did exactly)

His status would be: “Hey, there I am using whatsapp!”

-.-.-.-.-.-

I don’t know what to say about Polly and Freddie… so I leave them out now, but if you have something to add or whatever, feel free to do so!

#peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #finn shelby #john shelby #ada thorne #ada shelby #michael gray

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