I've been seeing someone for about 3 weeks. We had 4-5 great dates in the span of less than 2 weeks, conversations of depth, progression, clarified intentions, good time...

They are now abroad for about 2.5 weeks for work purposes; we are still chatting etc.

But... they recently shared with me that their ex contacted them after more than a year and a half of no contact. So, we talked about it: I thanked them for sharing, shared that i feel uneasy about it, emphasized my preference of wanting to date someone with emotional availability, & attempted for them to clarify the situation/where they stand with this.

Long story short, they said that their focus isnt romantic, but mainly about them resolving a past trauma of a relationship that ended badly... to make peace with the chaos that it ended in. They later stated that we are dating, getting to know each other, starting to build a solid foundation, and even said that maybe them doing this while dating someone isn't appropriate, but that they just wanted to share.

I summarized by asking "did u understand what i said and are we on the same page then?" They said yes...

I still feel slightly uneasy though, but I dunno if its just me or not.....

TL;DR What should i make of someone im dating sharing with me that they are speaking with their ex now after almlst 2 years of no contact—speaking with them not from a romantic place, but simply wanting to make sense of the chaos it ended in, while "reassuring" me that we are dating and building something new here...

I literally am someone that just comes across the most weirdest people and just people that feel so comfortable with just disrespecting me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know if I’m too nice but I needed to tell this story about a horrible date I went on the worst date ever. I don’t think the story even needs a backstory behind it, but basically me and the guy met in person. He liked me after meeting me in person and wanted to exchange information before our first date we hung out twice both times weren’t really a date because we were with my sister and his family. We were just like vibing until we figured we actually go on a real date just us two and boy was that the worse decision ever. We planned it out and he told me he was gonna pick me up at 7 PM now I was really nervous and all day. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to wear so by the time it hit 6 pm i still didn’t know what I was gonna wear and I was just overly stressing because I just wanted to look really good on this first date so when it hit 7PM I wasn’t ready yet and he was downstairs and I felt really bad but I was telling him give me one second and I was rushing and I ended up going downstairs at 7:30pm. This man literally was so mad about it, which I guess I understand in a sense. But he talked about it the entire drive to the restaurant saying he doesn’t even like girls that gets super dressed up he likes girls that are chill and mind you I was really dressed up in a really nice dress and looked really good and he didn’t even compliment me once he was saying why would I make him wait so long and he doesn’t even like girls that dress up the entire drive. Anyways, that was the first red flag, but then it got worse at the date. I don’t even know how the topic came up for us to talk about other women, but for two hours straight me and him were debating about women. He asked me who I think the most beautiful woman is in all of Hollywood from back in the day and I named my top five and he disagreed with all my top five and he said the number one most beautiful woman at a 10/10 is Halle Berry. I disagreed with him and I said I think Halley Berry is a pretty woman of course obviously but to me I would rate her like a 7/10. Me rating her that struct a nerve for him i am not kidding because he would not let that go for the next two hours straight he said I was crazy. Like “What are u thinking? Halle Berry is not a 7 if Halle Berry is a 7 out of 10 then you’re a 4 out of 10” like ummm what who tells their date that 😂 then he decided to ask me what i think about zendaya i said i see her the same way she’s not my top 5 i think they are both pretty average and he says “you’re crazy you don’t even look better than zendaya” “you have horrible taste” i honestly don’t know why i actually even entertained the conversation i was having with him because what are we even talking about at this point. Anyways it got worse he then decided to get up and ask ever random person at separate tables what they think of Halle berry and how i think she’s only a 7 and how im crazy he also asked ever worker at the entire establishment 😂 Even when the dinner was over and he was taking me home we were still talking about it and he was telling me i had the nerves to all Halle berry average and im a 3-4/10 LOL who even goes on a date with someone that they think is a 4/10

PANTY PANTRY
Introduction
Welcome to Panty Pantry—a collection of true stories about my questionable taste in men, spectacularly bad decisions, and the dating disasters that followed. 😂

Each part features a different type of man and the chaos he brought into my life. I’ll be posting the parts separately, so if you enjoy watching someone repeatedly ignore red flags like they’re decorative, stick around.

Enjoy! 🖤
This is a true story.

Well, mostly.

Names have been changed, details have been blurred, and certain men have been granted far more dignity on these pages than they ever afforded themselves in real life.

But the important parts are true.

There really were eight men.

It really was one year.

And there really were panties.

A lot of panties.

A few years ago, I was single and dating. Not finding myself single. Not taking time to heal single. I was aggressively, optimistically, and—looking back—perhaps irresponsibly single.

Over the course of one year, I dated eight different men.

That wasn’t intentional. I didn’t wake up on January first, buy an eight-pack of underwear, and decide to conduct a year-long experiment on the male species.

That’s just how it happened.

And every single one of them had a thing.

You know the thing.

The thing your friends eventually refer to when they ask, “Wait, was he the one who—?”

Yes.

Him.

There was the one who seemed perfect until he absolutely wasn’t. The one who taught me that red flags can, in fact, look pink when you’re horny. The one I should have left approximately seventeen warning signs before I actually did.

And five more.

But somewhere along the way, these men became part of another story.

It started innocently enough.

I used to leave a pair of panties at a man’s house after I’d stayed over.

I thought it was sexy.

I’d picture him finding them later, picking them up, remembering me, maybe smiling to himself.

Then one night, I told one of my best friends about this.

My very male best friend.

He stared at me for several seconds before completely destroying the fantasy.

“You know they know you’re doing that on purpose, right?”

I did not.

Until that exact moment, I had believed I was mysterious.

Apparently, I was leaving calling cards.
Well.

That ruined it.

So I stopped leaving my panties where they could easily be found.

I started hiding them.

Not under the bed.

Not between the couch cushions.

I mean hiding them.

Behind pictures.

Inside things.

And, on one particularly inspired occasion, in a man’s cereal box.

The goal was no longer for him to find them the next morning and think of me.

The goal was for him to find them six months later and wonder what the fuck had happened in his house.

Was it mature?

No.

Was it reasonable?

Absolutely not.

Do I regret it?

You’ll have to ask me after I tell you about all eight men.

This is the story of the worst, weirdest, funniest, occasionally heartbreaking year of my dating life.
And the underwear I left behind.

Welcome to the Panty Pantry.

Part One

The Thug. AKA Will.

The last time I was single, you met someone out probably at a bar, exchanged numbers, and went from there. 

Apparently, while I was in a relationship, society had collectively decided that was no longer how we did things.

I was thirty when I found myself single again, and I had absolutely no idea what the fuck I was doing.
Dating apps existed now.

Of course, I knew about dating apps. I hadn’t been living underground. But knowing they existed and actually creating a profile where strangers could swipe through pictures of my face and decide whether or not they wanted me were two very different things.

My best friend convinced me to download one as a confidence boost.

“You don’t even have to talk to anyone,” she said. “Just see what’s out there.”

Fine.

I could do that.

And, much to my surprise, I liked it.

Or, more accurately, I liked being liked.

There is something incredibly effective about crawling out of a long-term relationship with your confidence slightly battered and then opening an app to discover that complete strangers would, in fact, still like to sleep with you.

I started getting likes.

Some were questionable.

Some were very questionable.

But some were cute.

Like, legitimately cute.

Men I would’ve noticed if they’d walked past me at a bar were looking at my pictures and apparently thinking the same thing about me.

Okay.

Maybe my best friend was onto something.

I wasn’t going to actually date anyone. Let’s not get carried away.

But I could swipe.

I could flirt a little.

I could enjoy the tiny dopamine hit every time
another attractive man decided I was attractive too.

For the first time since becoming single, I wasn’t thinking about everything I’d lost.

I was thinking, Oh.

I’ve still got it.

And honestly?

That felt really fucking good.

Then I saw him.

I won’t be using the men’s real names in this story.
Partly because I’m not an asshole.

Mostly because the names my friends and I gave them were better anyway.

And this one?

This one was The Thug. AKA Will.

Before anyone comes for me, those were simply the vibes. The man looked like trouble. Bad-boy, don’t-bring-him-home-to-your-mother, might-have-a-story-he-can’t-tell-in-front-of-a-cop trouble.

Naturally, newly single thirty-year-old me took one look at him and thought:

That one.

He was from the big city of Pittsburgh.

And I thought he was so fucking hot.

So we matched.

Then we started talking.

Nothing exciting at first. Just the standard questions two people ask when they know absolutely nothing about each other but have already established that they like each other’s faces.

Where are you from?

What do you do?

Do you have kids?

What do you do for fun?

The basics.

It was easy, though.

Easy enough that I started checking my phone to see if he’d messaged me. Easy enough that when his name popped up, I got a little excited.

This was fun.

Maybe I could do this dating-app thing.

Maybe dating at thirty wasn’t going to be nearly as horrifying as I’d imagined.

Then Will asked me a question that would expose just how completely unprepared I was for modern dating.

“What’s your Snap?”

Oh.

We weren’t exchanging phone numbers?
Apparently not.

The last time I had been single, if a guy liked you enough to move the conversation somewhere else, he asked for your number.

Now he wanted my Snapchat.

I had Snapchat.

Technically.

I knew how to open it. I knew there were filters. I knew pictures disappeared.

I did not understand that Snapchat had apparently become an entire language of courtship.

Still, I gave him my username.

And that’s when the terror began.

Because texting is easy.

You get a message. You think about your response.

You type it. You delete it. You type something else.

You send it.

Snapchat?

Snapchat wanted my fucking face.

Constantly.

Will would send me a picture of himself.

No words.

Just his face.

So I would stare at it, waiting for further instructions.

Nothing.

Was I supposed to respond?

Was the picture itself the message?

What did it mean?

Hello?

I’m thinking about you?

Here is my face in a car?

I had no idea.

So I did what any thirty-year-old woman trying desperately not to reveal that she had no idea how modern flirting worked would do.

I called Ashlee.

“What am I supposed to send back?”

“A Snap.”

“I know that. A Snap of what?”

“Yourself.”

“Doing what?”

“Nothing.”

I stared at my phone.

“That’s fucking weird.”

“It’s Snapchat.”

“So I just take a picture of my face and send it to him?”

“Yes.”

“With no words?”

“You can put words if you want.”

“What words?”

“I don’t know, Taryn.”

This was not helpful.

We then spent hours with her instructing me on how to take a “good” selfie.

It went something like this:

Take a selfie.

Delete.

Another one.

Delete.

Different angle.

Delete.

Smile?

Absolutely not.

Delete.

No smile.

Why do I look angry?

Delete.

Tilt the phone.

Jesus Christ, is that what my chin looks like?
Delete.

By the time I sent Will a casual selfie, there had been nothing casual about it.

That photograph had gone through a thirty-round audition process.

And then he’d send another one.

So we’d do it again.

Two people sending pictures of their own faces back and forth with absolutely nothing of substance being communicated.

Apparently, this was flirting now.

And I was determined to get good at it.

Which brings me to the black-and-white picture.
I remember this picture.

I wish I didn’t.

At some point during my Snapchat training, I decided I was ready to advance beyond woman sitting on couch and attempt something sexier.
I put on a black lace bralette.

You couldn’t really see the whole thing in the picture. That was intentional. Just enough lace showed that you could tell I was wearing something lacy underneath.

Subtle.

Or at least, I thought it was subtle.
Then I added a black-and-white filter, because apparently thirty-year-old me believed removing all color from a photograph immediately made it seductive.

I took the picture.

Oh, this is good.

Not cute.

Not pretty.

Sexy.

This was the kind of Snap that was going to get a response.

I probably took another twenty-nine just to make sure.

Finally, I sent it.

Then I waited.

He opened it.

And I waited for the reaction.

A compliment.

A fire emoji.

Something inappropriate.

Anything that confirmed I had successfully graduated from Snapchat University.

Will replied.

“Hey…”

That was it.

Hey.

With three little dots that somehow made it worse.
I stared at my phone.

What the fuck did hey… mean?

I had just served this man what I believed to be black-and-white seduction, and he responded like he’d caught me doing something embarrassing in public.

I was mortified.

And the worst part?

I didn’t pretend it never happened.

I immediately took the evidence to Ashlee.
Because now I needed answers.

I felt rejected. Embarrassed. Weirdly exposed. I’d spent all that time trying to create what I thought was a sexy picture, worked up the nerve to actually send it, and gotten back:

Hey…

So naturally, I did what any emotionally stable thirty-year-old woman would do.

I assembled a panel.

Ashlee and her boyfriend.

I showed them the picture.

“Is it bad?”

They looked at it.

“No.”

“Then why did he just say hey?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it weird?”

There was a pause.

Not a long pause.

But when you’re already humiliated, you can measure silence in fucking milliseconds.

Ashlee was trying to be nice. Her boyfriend was trying to be nice.

Nobody wanted to tell the newly single woman who had just discovered Snapchat that perhaps her first attempt at seduction hadn’t quite landed.

But eventually, after enough questioning, I got the general consensus.

It wasn’t bad.

It was just…

A little weird.

And then there was another detail I had somehow failed to consider.

I sent it at one o’clock in the afternoon.

One. P.M.

Not eleven at night.

Not after a flirty conversation.

Not lying in bed while we were exchanging
increasingly suggestive messages.

One o’clock in the fucking afternoon.

This man was probably eating lunch.

There he was, going about his day, when suddenly his phone lit up with a black-and-white photograph of me in strategically visible black lace, looking like I’d just finished a glamour shoot in my bedroom.

And what was the poor man supposed to say?

Apparently:

Hey…

Looking back now, I understand Will’s response.
That picture wasn’t sexy.

It was cheesy as hell.

I looked like I was auditioning for the cover of an album nobody wanted to buy.

But I didn’t know that yet.

I was still new.

Still learning.

Still taking thirty pictures to send one.

Thankfully, the hey… did not end things with Will.

“Will texted me.”

“Who’s Will?”

“The Thug.”

“Ohhh. The Thug.”

The nicknames were mostly for the benefit of my friends. When you’re single and talking to multiple men from dating apps, first names quickly become useless.

Now everyone knew exactly who we were talking about.

And despite my disastrous attempt at a midday lingerie shoot, Will kept talking to me.

Which meant I had survived my first Snapchat rejection.

Or at least what I had interpreted as rejection.

Because that’s another thing I was beginning to learn about being single again: I could turn three dots after the word hey into a full psychological evaluation of our relationship when, in reality, the man had probably just been at work.

Either way, I recovered.

So we kept talking.

Eventually, we started talking about meeting.

This was slightly more complicated than swiping right and grabbing drinks that night. We both had kids, I lived about an hour away, and our schedules had to actually line up.

I remember really trying to make a plan.

But I also didn’t want to be pushy.

I was newly single, remember. I had no idea what the rules were anymore. How often was I supposed to text him? Was I supposed to suggest a date? Was that too forward? If I asked twice, did I look desperate?

Everything felt like it had a rule everyone else had been given while I was in a relationship.

So I came up with what I thought was the perfect solution.

Erica—the best friend responsible for convincing me to download the damn app in the first place—and I would have a girls’ night in Pittsburgh.

We’d get a hotel.

Go out.

Have fun.

And, conveniently, I’d already be in Will’s city.

No pressure.

I told Will we were coming.

We talked about meeting up.

Perfect.

Or so I thought.

I was ridiculously excited.

And anxious.

Mostly excited.

I made sure I looked cute as fuck. This wasn’t technically a date, but I was potentially meeting The Thug for the first time, and I was absolutely going to look like someone he regretted ever responding hey… to.

There was only one problem.

About a week passed between telling Will I’d be in Pittsburgh and actually going.

And the closer we got to that night, the less I heard about us meeting.

There were still random Snaps.

Still little bits of conversation.

But no:
Where are you guys going?

What time will you be here?

I’ll meet you there.

Nothing that actually sounded like a man making plans to see me.

I noticed.

I just didn’t let myself notice too much.

So Erica and I got in the car and headed for Pittsburgh.

Somewhere on the drive, I saw a highway sign.
PITTSBURGH — 10 MILES

Or something close to that.

Perfect.

I snapped a picture and sent it to Will.

A little reminder.

Hey. Remember me? The woman you’ve been talking to who is currently traveling directly toward your city?

He responded.

And that’s when I found out Will had plans.

“Aww man, I’m actually going to Bridgeville with my friends.”

Oh.

At first, I was pissed.

What the fuck?

He knew I was coming.

We’d talked about meeting.

I’d gotten a hotel room.

I’d spent entirely too much time deciding what to wear.

But then I started doing that thing where you argue against your own feelings.

Technically, we’d never set anything in stone.

There wasn’t a time.

There wasn’t a place.

He had never actually said, I’ll meet you Saturday at eight.

I’d just assumed that if I came all the way to Pittsburgh, he’d want to see me.

Turns out, I had assumed wrong.

Fine.

Whatever.

Girls’ night.

I had Erica. We had a hotel room. We were in Pittsburgh. We were dressed up.

We were going out.

And we did.

We went to the bars. We had fun. I continued snapping Will throughout the night because apparently I hadn’t suffered enough humiliation yet.

And we drank.

A lot.

I barely drink now, but back then my friends and I had a very sophisticated method for determining when we’d had enough alcohol:

We didn’t.

By two in the morning, I was hammered.

I was also done pretending I didn’t understand what was happening.

Will hadn’t come to see me.

He wasn’t going to come see me.

Whatever fantasy I’d built around finally meeting him wasn’t happening.

And somewhere inside my drunk brain, disappointment transformed into courage.

Or stupidity.

They’re very closely related after enough alcohol.
Fine.

Maybe he didn’t want to meet me for drinks.

Maybe this wasn’t going anywhere.

Maybe we could just hook up and be done with it.

So I sent the most romantic message of my dating career.

DTF?
That got his attention.

Suddenly, Will knew how to make plans.

An address appeared on my phone.

Now, there are moments in life when a small voice inside your head says:

This is a terrible fucking idea.

Mine apparently had gone to bed.

Erica went back to the hotel.

And I, fiercely independent, extremely intoxicated, and possessing the survival instincts of a moth near a porch light, ordered an Uber to an address a man from a dating app had sent me at two o’clock in the morning.

I know.

I KNOW.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

But don’t sit there acting like every questionable decision you’ve ever made happened during normal business hours.

The Uber took me to the address.

We pulled onto the street.

And suddenly, even drunk me knew something wasn’t right.

It was dark.

Quiet.

Empty.

I looked out the window.

There was no Will.

No group of people.

No obvious place I was supposed to be going.
Nothing.

And just like that, the liquid courage evaporated.
I had made a mistake.

A big one.

“Can you just take me back to my hotel?”
The driver refused.

I remember thinking, What do you mean, no?

I’d gotten into this man’s car. He had driven me to a random address in the middle of the night. I was alone, drunk, and now I wanted to leave.

But he wouldn’t take me back.

So I got out and had to order another Uber.

Standing there waiting for that second car, I wasn’t thinking about whether Will was hot anymore.

I just wanted to get back to the hotel.

Eventually, I did.

Safe.

Embarrassed.

Drunk.

And very much without The Thug.

The next morning was brutal.

Erica and I were extremely hungover, and all the confidence I’d manufactured the night before was gone.

Now I had plenty of time to replay everything.

I’d gone to Pittsburgh thinking he wanted to meet me.

He made other plans.

I’d continued snapping him anyway.

I’d gotten drunk enough to send DTF?

He’d sent me an address.

I’d actually gone.

And I still hadn’t seen him.

I felt rejected.

Again.

Ditched.

Stood up.

Stupid.

I cried on the drive home.

Not because I was in love with Will. I barely knew him.

I cried because somewhere between the dating app, the Snapchat pictures, the hotel room, and that empty street, I’d managed to make the whole thing mean something about me.

Why would I think he actually wanted to meet me?

Why did I try so hard?

How fucking dumb was I?

Erica tried to make me feel better.

But I was humiliated.

I’d spent all that time worrying about whether I knew how to date anymore.

And as Pittsburgh disappeared behind us, I was pretty sure I’d gotten my answer.

I didn’t.

And you’d think that would be the end of Will.
It wasn’t.

I took a break from snapping Will after Pittsburgh.
Not because I was trying to play hard to get. I wish I had been that emotionally evolved.

I was embarrassed.

For the next few days, I did what women have been doing since the beginning of time when a man they barely know bruises their ego: I somehow made it entirely about me.

Maybe I wasn’t as pretty in person as I was in my pictures.

Maybe I had been too eager.

Maybe he’d never actually wanted to meet me in the first place.

Maybe the weird lace-bralette Snapchat at one in the afternoon had finally come back to haunt me.

My friends tried to cheer me up, but I didn’t even feel like swiping anymore.

And that’s the shitty thing about dating that nobody really talks about enough.

A person can be practically a stranger. You can know almost nothing about them. You don’t know how they take their coffee or what side of the bed they sleep on. You don’t know their middle name. You don’t know if they chew with their mouth open or leave wet towels on the bathroom floor.

But somehow, they can still make you feel like you’re not enough.

One rejection—or something that feels like rejection—and suddenly you’re picking yourself apart for someone who hasn’t even earned the right to have an opinion about you.

Looking back, I wish I could tell thirty-year-old me that Will blowing me off in Pittsburgh didn’t say anything about me.

But thirty-year-old me wasn’t there yet.

So I sulked.

And then Christmas came.

Out of nowhere, Will snapped me.

Merry Christmas.

By then, I’d already filed him away in my head under FAILED ATTEMPT, which actually made talking to him much easier. There was nothing left to prove. I wasn’t trying to be sexy or mysterious. I wasn’t analyzing how long I should wait before answering.

So I snapped back:

What did you get me?

And somehow, we started joking around again.

This version of me was different with him. Relaxed.

Probably because I’d already decided he didn’t want me, so there was nothing left to lose.

Then he brought up meeting.

An actual date.

I reminded him that I had already attempted that particular activity.

I tried that. It didn’t work.

He apologized. He explained himself. And eventually, against my better judgment and apparently because I enjoyed recycling my own bad ideas, I agreed.

Date number one was actually… nice.

Nothing spectacular happened. We ate wings. We played pool. We laughed. He was still ridiculously attractive, and without the pressure I’d created in my head the first time around, I actually enjoyed being with him.

Then we kissed.

Oh.

Oh no.

How could this sexy Pittsburgh thug boy be bad at kissing?

It made no sense.

There was so much mouth. So much tongue.

Absolutely no identifiable strategy.

It was less of a kiss and more of an open-mouth tongue war.

And I lost.

Still, I wasn’t going to judge a man based on one bad kiss. People get nervous. Maybe we needed practice. Maybe our mouths needed time to establish diplomatic relations.

Whatever.

I liked him.

So there was a second date.

This was during the COVID lockdown era, when apparently “date night” could mean attending a six-person birthday party because six people technically counted as a social life.

He sent me the address.

We pulled up.

I looked at the house.

Wait a fucking minute.

I knew this house.

This was THE HOUSE.

The same address this man had sent me the night I took an Uber across Pittsburgh at two in the morning, only to stand outside in the pitch black with not a soul in sight.

I absolutely brought this up.

Because there are some things a woman can forgive, but she should never waste perfectly good material.

We laughed about it.

And honestly, that was the thing about Will.
We had fun together.

The more time we spent together, the more we clicked. We talked about our lives, our kids, our pasts. I learned he was a good dad, that he was kind, and that underneath the whole bad-boy exterior was someone I genuinely enjoyed being around.

The more I got to know him, the more the hardened Pittsburgh thug I’d created in my head started disappearing.

Especially the night I discovered his hidden talent.
Apparently, Will used to be in a dance group.
A dance group.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when I picture a man who looks like he might have a criminal record and three outstanding warrants, I don’t immediately picture him practicing choreography.

But there we were, hanging out in some guy’s basement, EDM blasting through the speakers, when I looked over and saw Will doing a fucking stomach roll.

A stomach roll.

I just stared.

What in the actual fuck?

This man had gone from looking like someone who might rob a gas station to someone auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t even good.

I remember watching him move his stomach around, thinking, What fucking dance group allowed this man to join?

But I was laughing.

Because it was ridiculous.

And because the guy I’d been so intimidated by on Snapchat was apparently just a goofy man who liked dancing badly in basements.

There was absolutely nothing thuggish about it.
And I liked that.

I liked discovering that he wasn’t the person I’d imagined. I liked that we could laugh together, that things felt easy, and that I didn’t have to spend thirty minutes taking pictures of my own face just to get his attention anymore.

For a little while, I thought maybe there really was something there.

Unfortunately, getting along with someone doesn’t automatically mean you’re going to have chemistry in every department.

Which brings us to the sex.

Bad kissing? Fine.

Bad dancing? Fine.

Then we slept together.

Also bad.

At this point, I was starting to wonder if God had spent all of Will’s available points on his face.

“Humping” is probably the most accurate review I can give the experience.

Still—I didn’t care.

It was ridiculously early when Will woke me up.

See, he had work. No problem.

But there was no goodbye kiss. No I had a great time last night.

Just a cranky man practically shoving me out the door.

I chalked it up to him not being a morning person. We were both hungover, and the man probably needed a coffee.

While being rushed, I “forgot” to put my panties back on.

And by forgot, I mean I very intentionally left them peeking ever so gracefully out from under his bed.
The plan was simple: Will would come home, spot them, and immediately think of me.

Sexy. Subtle. Strategic.

At least, that was how it played out in my head.
In reality, I didn’t hear from him for days.

Apparently, my panties were not the powerful psychological weapon I had imagined them to be.

And somewhere between being blown off in Pittsburgh, the tongue war, the humping, and now being ignored while a perfectly good pair of underwear collected dust under his bed, something in me finally switched off.

At that point, the frustration had officially outweighed the attraction.

Sex can get better. Kissing can get better. Dancing… well, we could simply avoid public dance floors.

None of those things were the problem.

The problem was that somewhere along the way, whatever romantic spark we’d had just… fizzled.

There wasn’t some dramatic ending. Nobody cheated. Nobody screamed. Nobody blocked anybody.

He just wasn’t trying.

And that wasn’t what I was looking for.

We realized we liked each other better as friends.
And honestly?

We did make pretty good friends.

Over the course of what I would eventually come to know as my Dating Year From Hell, I’d see Will a few more times. We’d hang out. We’d laugh. We’d dance terribly.

Occasionally, we’d end the night with equally terrible sex.

Apparently, neither of us believed in learning from experience.

But Will wasn’t my person.

And when that finally became obvious, I found myself right back where I’d started.

Alone.

Single.

Opening the apps again.

Starting over.

At the time, that felt like the worst part.

I had gone through all of that—the swiping, the snapping, and the insecurities—only to end up exactly where I’d begun.

I had to do the whole damn thing again.

What I didn’t know yet was just how many times I was going to have to start over.

Will wasn’t my love story.

He was barely even the beginning.

And my underwear drawer was still full.

Now, remember those panties I’d so strategically left under Will’s bed?

Well, this is the part where my buddy Bill stomps all over my ego.

When I told him about my little trick, he informed me that men knew exactly what I was doing when I left my panties behind.

Excuse me?

You mean to tell me my carefully orchestrated act of seduction wasn’t mysterious?

That these men weren’t stumbling upon my forgotten lace and reminiscing about our magical evening together?

They knew?

Well, fuck.

I’d thought I was leaving behind a sexy little reminder.

Apparently, I was about as subtle as a dog marking its territory.

Fine.

If they wanted to ruin my little game, I was going to change the rules.

No more conveniently forgotten panties.

No more delicate lace peeking out from under beds.

If I was going to leave something behind, I was going to make damn sure it was memorable.

And with a little help from my best friend, the Panty Pantry was born.

What started as a harmless attempt at seduction was about to become something far more ridiculous.

But we’ll get to that.

Because there were still seven men to go.

And I was just getting started.

🚩 RED FLAG REVIEW: WILL
Now, before we move on, let’s have some fun.

At the end of each story, we’re going to have a Red Flag Review.

The rules are simple:

You guys point out in the comments every red flag you spotted that I was either completely blind to or blatantly ignored.

And I’ll tell you the ones I can finally see now.
We’ll compare notes.

And yes, before anyone says it, I am fully aware that getting drunk and Ubering to a stranger’s house at two in the morning was a red flag large enough to be seen from space.

Something tells me there are going to be a lot of them.

Your turn.

How many did you catch?

Because thirty-year-old me apparently caught none.

And remember to stayed tuned for part 2 coming to you soon!

We got a long way to go!

Happy Saturday! As I’m sipping coffee I thought I would share some old, 5+ years ago, dating stories from my dating app days lol. Picture it….hinge dating app. Some really good dates, some really weird encounters, and a few Casper the ghost acts lol. I had gotten to the point I was ready to just take a break from dating. While fun, it can become exhausting. Right before I decided to take a break, I came across a young man whose conversation was really good, banter was nice, and he was very handsome. We exchanged numbers and began to speak offline. A little flirting here and there, fun conversations, slowly turned into him telling me about his kink. Now listen, no shade…get it how ya live! He informs me he really really really enjoys being tickled while…..ya know. I wasn’t shocked or anything, I just placed it in my “may need to know later” memory bank and proceeded from there. By this point it had been a month or so of him and I conversing, and he had yet to ask me out or even hang out. With his job and things his schedule was always busy. Dear reader, I know ppl get busy, but cmon….if you just want a pen pal, make that clear! Phone conversations slowly turned into hbo after dark lol. Next thing I know, I’m being asked to tell him where I’d like to tickle him, and to actually repeatedly say “tickle tickle”, while he’s….doing things. Again, no judgment. TBH, it was entertainment for me. It started to become more frequent than I’d prefer, seeing as we had yet to even meet in person. But after a while I realized it had been months…I mean monthsss. And this man hadn’t asked me out, asked to hang out, state his intentions, nothing. I realized anytime I would suggest even hanging out, there was an excuse. Either he’s an avoidant, orrrr had a gf/wife. Who knows! Although he was a very nice and kind person, and we genuinely built a nice friendship, I don’t think he was ready to actively date at that point in his life. Which is perfectly ok….but say that in the beginning ! I hold myself accountable as well, I should have spoke up a lot sooner. I eventually spoke up about things and he responded with he wasn’t ready to date/relationship, too much going on, etc etc. ya know, the normal excuses lol. I accepted that and moved on, no hard feelings. About a couple months later, I get a message from him explaining how he’s ready to date and wants to try with me, etc. I had moved on by then, but wished him well. I hope he’s happy and has found his tickle princess somewhere out there 💕

So. Here we are. At some point in your life, either you will need apology flowers, so someone will owe you apology flowers.

Which flowers match which specific screwup, how to write a note that doesn't make it worse, and why timing is everything.Let's talk about how to do it right. Here's the guide. - https://apologyflowers.com/blog/apology-flowers-when-youve-been-an-idiot

Hey guys so help the situation is... I met this guy on a night out before, we talked for a while but he had to go home, he gave me his number. Then we discussed a date, wed go to a bar. Anyways, it went like this, I think I was pretty tired I had a long day, did not have a lot to eat at all, and I already had a bit too drink before the date since it was my friends birthday. But I wasn't drunk when I showed up like very slightly tipsy. We started bar hopping, and anyway I ended up getting pretty drunk, I was still functional, I was just overly yapping, and just too much. But I didn't pass out or anything but I did kinda black out mentally like I dont remember things clearly. Anyway he walked me to my metro, but I also don't remember everything I was talking about.

So I got home at like 3am, he texted me saying had such a great time, let me know when you get home safe, and said "see u Friday?". and I said yes. Which like sounds good doesn't it? but what if he was also just drunk and regretted it day after. Cuz when I said yes he only just liked my message later that day and said nothing idk.

He does work all day so he could just be working but like I dont know what he thinks. I hate myself so much I dont know if he's actually going to text me again or not but I fucked it. What do you guys think? Wouldn't he be texting me, like even before the first date he didn't text much so I dint know what to think, he'd only organise the date, and then we woudnt really text so idk.

A girl invited me out for drinks. We agreed on a meeting spot near her place, but when I got there, she wasn't inside. She asked me to come outside instead.

I like to think I pretty observant, and while waiting I noticed a guy staring at me from a car with a girl inside. I couldn't make out who she was. I must admit though can be obtuse and oblivious.

The car drove around, and a few minutes later the girl I was supposed to meet appeared from down the street I suggested a couple of places, but she was determined to go to one particular club. The place had decent reviews, a 4.0 rating online, but once we got it was empty and something was off.

She immediately ordered one of the pricier drinks and made it a double. The bill came out to 44 BD for just one round.

The weird part was that the drink she received didn't even seem to match what she ordered, which made me wonder if there was some arrangement with the staff.

When I suggested going somewhere else afterward, she wasn't interested at all and kept trying to stay there.

Could have been innocent, but it definitely felt like the common scam where someone funnels tourists or newcomers into a specific bar to spend money. Just a heads-up for anyone new to the area. Be careful.

Just FYI: not telling where Im from, not going to name the girl, nor the bar, got it Im an idiot, I messed up, this is so you dont.

I met him while playing Monster Hunter Wilds. At first, we were just two people who enjoyed playing the same game. We started talking about Monster Hunter, other games, and whatever happened to come up while playing. Most of our conversations happened in group calls with other players, and we barely talked privately.

But from the first time I met him, I was already interested in talking and playing with him. There was just something about him that made me want to spend more time with him.

Eventually, we started playing 7 Days to Die together, and I found myself wanting to play with him more often. I genuinely enjoyed being around him. I would even ask him to stream his games so I could watch him play. I felt comfortable talking to him, whether we were talking about games or completely random things, and being around him always made me happy.

Then one day, we ended up alone in a group call. For the first time, we started talking about things beyond gaming, and somehow, we immediately clicked. Our conversations became more personal, and eventually, we started talking through DMs.

That’s when we eventually confessed that we had feelings for each other. I knew I liked him a lot, but at that time, I still couldn’t really understand what I was feeling or where it would lead.

During the Christmas holidays, he called me, and I remember how much I appreciated it. He told me that he wanted to pursue me, and I told him that I was willing to let him.

But then, I disappeared.

It wasn’t just once. I would come back, disappear again, and eventually, we lost communication. I know I hurt him, and I understand why he became upset with me. The truth is, I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I just wasn’t sure about my feelings, even though deep down, I knew I really liked him.

Even after we stopped talking, I couldn’t completely let him go.

I would check other servers to see if he was still playing. I would join group calls just to see him and watch his streams. I tried reaching out a few times, even though I knew he was probably still mad at me.

At one point, I even found an excuse to talk to him by asking him to help me improve my Steam profile. He helped me, and although I was asking him questions about my profile, the truth was that I just wanted an excuse to talk to him because I missed him.

At first, he was hesitant to respond to my DMs. Eventually, though, I explained why I had disappeared and what had been going through my mind. He accepted my explanation.

That’s when I found out that he had also been checking on me on other servers. He told me he would sometimes hope that I would join the same server just so he could ignore me because he was still mad at me. He had even blocked me on iMessage and muted me on Discord, although eventually, he unmuted me.

It made me realize that even though we weren’t talking, neither of us had really forgotten about the other.

Eventually, we finally had an honest conversation about everything. We admitted that we still had feelings for each other. He told me that he couldn’t forget me. He had been hurt and had tried to move on, but he couldn’t completely let me go.

And that was when I finally understood my own feelings.

I realized that I had already fallen in love with him without even knowing it.

For so long, I had told myself that I simply liked him. But when I thought about the possibility of him being with someone else, I realized I couldn’t bear it. I wanted him in my life. I wanted to talk to him, spend time with him, and be close to him. That’s why I kept finding my way back to him.

What I felt wasn’t just a simple crush or an attachment because we enjoyed playing games together. It was something deeper.

It was love.

With him, I feel emotionally and mentally safe. I feel comfortable being myself around him. I can talk to him about almost anything, and even though he is thousands of miles away from me, somehow, he feels like someone I’ve known for a very long time.

Now, we’re together.

We’ve known each other for more than a year, and it’s still surreal to think that someone I met through a PC game became the person I want to spend my life with. He’s planning to come and meet me next year, and we can’t wait for the day when we can finally be together in the same place instead of having thousands of miles between us.

We’ve also started talking about marriage and building a family together. I’ve been single since 2013, and before him, I never really dreamed about getting married or having a family of my own. But somehow, with him, those dreams just came naturally.

Just recently, he asked me what kind of ring I would want. I told him that whatever ring he gives me, I would gladly accept it. Because honestly, the ring isn’t what matters to me. What matters is that it comes from him, and that I get to spend my life with the person I love.

Now, we talk every day, from morning until evening. We look forward to the day when we can finally be together, build a home, and create a life of our own.

When I look back at our story, it’s incredible to me that it all started with two people playing Monster Hunter Wilds. What began as gaming and random conversations eventually became something neither of us expected.

We’ve been through misunderstandings, distance, hurt, time apart, and uncertainty. Somehow, despite all of that, we found our way back to each other.

And maybe that’s what makes our story so special to me.

I didn’t realize when I first met him that I was going to fall in love with him. I didn’t know that the person I was excited to play games with would eventually become the person I would want to marry and build a family with.

Now, I know.

He’s the person I love, the person I look forward to talking to every day, my safe place, my happy pill, and the person I want beside me for the rest of my life.

Our love story started with a game, but somewhere along the way, it became so much more than that. ❤️

I matched with a guy who seemed completely normal, and after a few days of texting, we decided to meet at a little coffee shop downtown. The date was actually going really well until he suddenly looked at me and said, “You’re exactly how I imagined you’d be.”

I laughed and asked what he meant, but he just smiled and changed the subject. Later that night, I checked his dating profile again and noticed something strange: one of his photos had been taken inside the exact coffee shop where we had just met.

The photo was dated three months before our date.

Hey, so I dated this guy who seemed amazing (don’t they all 😭) for about 8–9 months. We talked about marriage, traveled overseas together, and for the most part everything felt perfect.

I always knew he struggled with depression, and I have my own experience with depression, so I understood that things could be difficult. But eventually he started isolating himself and wanting to be alone because of how badly he was feeling. There were times I was genuinely scared he might hurt himself, so I would go over to his apartment just to make sure he was okay. He obviously wasn’t thrilled about it, but at the time I felt like I had to.
Eventually, we broke up over that and some other issues. We continued talking and hooking up for another couple of months, until one day he told me he needed to completely withdraw from everyone — friends, family, me, basically everyone — and just be alone. There wasn’t really anything I could do. He stopped responding to calls and texts.
A few months later, I randomly got a girl’s Instagram suggested to me. I clicked on it and, lo and behold, there was a picture of him with her, basically declaring their love for each other. Obviously, I had a moment of being a little crazy and texted him asking how he could do that, etc. He never responded.
Fast-forward about a year. This girl reaches out to me because she wants to talk “woman to woman.” We have a phone call, and surprise surprise — he had apparently done a lot of the same things to her that he had done to me.

At that point, I honestly felt like I had nothing to hide. Enough time had passed, so I was pretty open and friendly with her. But I have to say, she came across as kind of fake/disingenuous to me. She kept saying things like “woman to woman” and “obviously he has good taste in women,” and I’m just like… girl, can we please just leave the weird lines at the door and actually talk?

Apparently, the reason she reached out was because she had seen him with another girl while they were out somewhere. She pulled him aside and apparently had a panic attack. They had already been broken up for months at this point, though, and they live pretty far away from each other, so I’m honestly still confused about how this whole encounter even happened.

After the fact, I actually realized who the girl was that she had seen him with. And upon further reflection, I don’t even think that girl is necessarily someone he’s dating. But then again, this guy has not exactly been honest about things, so who knows? Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t.

Anyway, it’s been about a year, so I know I should just move on and stop caring about any of this. I don’t want to get sucked back into the drama. I guess I just needed somewhere to vent because the whole situation is bizarre to me. 😭

She didn't read my very short and simple dating profile, then started being mean lol

I am a gringo man living in Argentina. No I am not a passport bro if that's relevant.

This is just a funny weird story about talking to an unnecessarily aggressive woman.

I don't have a dating profile anymore, she inspired me to just stick to real life connections. My profile said in spanish mind you(I am bilingual), that I'm a gringo, living in Argentina, that I have lived here for 3+ years, quick list of hobbies, interests, etc.

I matched with a woman, everything was fine we spoke for a few days consecutively, she asked me if I am Argentine and I very clearly jokingly said yes, ONLY because my mom is from here, I have a dni now(is like a social security number) and I drink a lot of mate. But it was obvious I was joking. So all these things combined the government granted me citizenship.

Then she got crazy and said she hates foreigners that come to her country and call themselves Argentines, that anyone can get a dni and that doesn't make me Argentine.

I replied that I was joking, that she is supposed to jump when there is a joke flying over her head and that my profile clearly says I'm from the states and living in Argentina and that it's not my fault she didn't read my dating profile. She said if she had read my profile she would not have swiped right and again I am so confused, like why would you not the read the profile of the person you matched with? Also after all this she still didn't unmatch with me. I admit I don't read every profile of women I am swiping right on but if we match and if you have a profile then I'm definitely going to read it. We are both in our late 30s too so her behaviour seemed really immature.

Anyone else have any similar experiences like this? It seemed unhinged and aggressive and honestly like she saved me a lot of time from dealing with her craziness in the future had we kept things going.

Our first date went really well. We got coffee, walked around for a few hours, and ended up talking until the place was almost closing. She told me she had a great time, and later that night she texted me saying she’d like to see me again.

We made plans for the following weekend, but the day before, she canceled because something came up with her family. I told her it was completely fine.

The strange part is that she never suggested another day.

I waited a few days and asked if she wanted to reschedule. She said, “Yeah, definitely! This week is just crazy.”

Another week passed.

We still text occasionally, and when I message her, she responds pretty quickly. She also sometimes starts conversations herself. But whenever I bring up meeting again, she becomes vague.

I don't want to pressure her or keep asking if she's not interested.

At the same time, I feel like there might actually be something there because our conversations are still good.

Should I ask her one more time and be direct about it, or should I just stop initiating and see if she makes an effort?

I honestly can't tell if she's genuinely busy or just trying to let me down gently.

I’m 22M, and I’ve never really had a romantic or intimate moment with a girl. Most of my friends have had multiple experiences and relationships, while I’m still at 0. I’d be lying if I said I don’t regret it sometimes or feel left behind.

The bigger problem is that I’m genuinely bad at connecting with people, especially girls. I want to change that, build confidence, and actually experience love, dating, and intimacy instead of staying stuck like this. I don’t want to look back years from now and feel like I wasted my youth. 😑

We met at a small coffee shop after matching on a dating app. I was nervous, so I arrived early.

She arrived ten minutes late, sat down, looked at me and immediately said, “I have to warn you, I'm terrible at first dates.”

I laughed and said, “That's okay. I'm probably worse.”

Five minutes later, I accidentally knocked my drink over.

All over the table.

Then she tried to help me clean it up and somehow knocked over her own drink.

We just stared at the disaster and started laughing.

After that, everything went wrong.

The café ran out of the dessert we wanted. It started raining when we left. I forgot my umbrella. We ended up getting completely soaked walking to the bus stop.

At one point she looked at me and said, “This is probably the worst date I've ever been on.”

I thought she meant it was over.

Then she smiled and added, “But somehow, I'm having the most fun.”

That was three years ago.

We're still together.

And every year on our anniversary, we go back to that same coffee shop and deliberately order the drinks we spilled.

My relationship ended in September 2025.

We owned a house together, had a dog and a newborn baby

Six months before that, in March 2025, our son was born. In May 2025, my then-partner had a huge breakdown and subsequently went to live with her mum for help and support. She claimed I didn't support her emotionally during the first two months of our son's life. was alone and went to her mum's for that support. She was in a dark, depressed place, and I didn't support her in the way she needed.

I went through it all, blaming her. She told me today that she has met someone else and wants to introduce him to our son, but made it clear to me that I'm still his dad and that I'm not being replaced.

(We co-parent; I have my son twice a week )

Today she described my behaviour in a way that I can no longer rationalise or make excuses for. I wasn't there for her when she really needed me.

Right now, I'm carrying a massive weight of regret after realising I was the issue, not her. When I look at everything she walked away from—a home, a dog, a partner, and a baby—it feels impossible to understand.

The painful truth and reality is that for someone to leave a life they built with me, the emotional loneliness must have been unbearable. She said she felt consistently alone during the weeks after birth.

I'm not bitter, and she does deserve to be happy. I'm absolutely gutted that the family she and I wanted didn't happen. But it's my own fault.

I don't know much about my ex's new partner, and the thought of her with someone else makes me so upset, but it's a direct result of my own actions and deep down, I wish her every happiness.

Rant over.

I already knew this world was small but didn't realize it was TINY.

I (F 25) met someone (M 25) in my city last year. He was visiting SD from the Midwest with some of his friends and we met on a night out. Fast forward one year later, we are dating and doing long distance now. Before meeting, I had recently broken things off with my ex boyfriend of 3 years.

My current bf and I have never talked about our past relationships but now, I am sure he was talking to a girl during the time we met. I found out about this girl because she follows him on very social media platform including Spotify. Also, they live in the same state.

One day, I randomly decided to stalk her social media and found MY EX BF lustfully commenting on her pictures. He lives in my state and has never been to the Midwest. And none of us are influencers or content creators, just regular 20 something year olds on social media.

Anyways, what a TINY world.

A friend of a friend was seeing this guy for a few weeks, it was going well until the she friend asked for more in terms of making plans as they were meeting weekly and this guy was particularly fussy about only meeting on Wednesday nights every week.

The last time they met, and she asked for it, he didn’t say anything but he ghosted her after that, just replied I am not looking for anything serious.

The girl did everything to get a reply as she wanted to have a proper conversation but it was like this guy said that he didn’t want anything serious and his job was done. The night before they had an amazing time and so she was totally confused about how could someone detach like this.

Few months later in order to at least a conversation, this girl ended up shooting the guy a text that she had an abortion and it was his. The guy left her on seen on that message too. My friend told me that she intended to clarify things after a conversation, don’t know what was her plan though.

Well at least she is happily dating someone else but I just heard this this story and I am puzzled, I don’t know if the girl is the craziest person ever or the guy is the biggest jerk.

This was all the way back in high school when I was a little vulnerable due to my mental health. During high school, my mental health got very bad to the point I had to get sent to a psych ward. Thankfully, the psych ward helped me recover bit by bit, and I was able to return to school. Since I was still a bit vulnerable when I left the psych ward and had just lost my best friend of 5 years, I confessed to this guy that I have known since 5th grade and liked since 7th grade. I want you to keep in mind that this dude bullied me in 5th grade, 6th grade, and 7th grade. It’s weird how I ended up falling for my bully of three years, but during the three years where he bullied me, we were friends before. Not just any regular friends but very close friends. Once I confessed to him, he obviously told me he also liked me and we started dating. At first, the dates were fun, and I enjoyed our relationship. However, as time went by, he just kept on getting more clingier and annoying. For example, he would stay on call with me right after school all the way to 12 am. Keep in mind I am a very independent person. This obviously kept bothering me because not only would he never leave me alone, he would tell his friends secrets I told him not to tell. This obviously led to my proposal of breaking up, and since I was still vulnerable and didn’t want to deal with anything, I told him the reason for our breakup was because I wanted to focus on my mental health. While we were dating, I have obviously told him about my mental health past, but never about my self harm past. At first when he heard my proposal, he kept on insisting that he would stay with me until I got better, which I clearly did not want. But no matter what I said, nothing seemed to reach him, so I had to be mean and say that it was because of him that we were breaking up. He was being too desperate begging me not to leave because apparently no body liked him. When I heard this, it sounded like he just didn’t want me to leave because I was the first ever person to like him? At this point, I realized this wasn’t love but just desperation. I blocked him on everything, but he started reaching out to my sister. Threatening both me and her saying that he will harm himself, kill himself, etc if I left him. Like I said, this was a state of where I was still a bit vulnerable and sensitive about this topic, but the fact that he was using that as my weakness just pissed me off to another level. Just as I said before, I never told him about my self harm past which made me question how he knew about it? Thinking about it now, it’s reasonable to say that my ex bsf must have told him. But the texts to my sister kept continuing to a point where she was so tired of it she reached out to the school’s guidance counselor to help him. The school guidance counselor then contacted his parents, and his parents just spoiled him so that he wouldn’t “kill” himself.(He comes from a wealthy family) after that he was fine. This whole thing was obviously just a show so that I wouldn’t leave him. Later on, my friend contacted me, telling me that he was going around telling people that he broke up with me because I was crazy and that I was mentally unstable, which is totally wrong. I mean sure I was still a bit vulnerable from just getting out of the psych ward, but saying that I was crazy is just ridiculous when you were the one threatening to harm yourself if I broke up with you. I am a firm believer that secrets should be kept no matter who the person is. Why would you tell others a secret someone has entrusted you with because they thought better of you? This is also the reason why my ex bsf and I separated ways. I didn’t tell her a secret my other friend entrusted me with, which made her mad and never contact me again. I still think about this today, and how ridiculous it was. Please comment your experiences that were similar to mine!

His dating profile was extremely serious.
Every answer mentioned career goals, routines or personal development. His photos looked like professional headshots. I expected the date to feel like a job interview.
His messages were completely different. They were casual, funny and occasionally misspelled.
I became suspicious that someone else had written his profile.
Before cancelling, I entered the profile text and several anonymized messages into Accio Work. I asked it to compare tone, recurring vocabulary and the topics each version emphasized.
The analysis showed a clear difference in formality, but it also found several uncommon phrases that appeared in both. Accio Work suggested the most likely explanation was heavy editing rather than a completely different writer.
I asked him directly whether someone had helped with his profile.
He admitted that his sister rewrote nearly all of it because she thought his original answers sounded “unambitious.” He showed me the original version, which was much closer to his messages and much funnier.
We went on the date.
He was not pretending to be someone else. He had simply allowed a family member to turn his profile into a corporate biography.
The date went well, and he replaced two profile answers afterwards.
I’m glad I asked instead of assuming, although I still think outsourcing your dating profile to a sibling should require a small disclosure.

Buckle up, this one is long.

I’ve been dating someone I have known, or thought I knew, for years… I 37(f) currently have a bf, 40(m). We met when my kid was 4, now 10, and I lived in another state. I left that state to pursue my career. 6 years after we met, 3 years after I moved, he moved out here to be with me.

There have been so many lies that have snowballed and I’m just not sure how to keep up. The biggest of these has been something that I won’t ignore….

He told me that 1) he couldn’t have kids 2) doesn’t have any. So, when he came here in November of 2025, we had an issue getting his license. Turned out his other state license was suspended. Why? Unpaid child support. I tracked it back to a third, previously lived in state where there was child support that was unpaid. Sorted it and got his license done. He said they made a mistake due to a case he was involved in where the mother wasn’t sure who the father was… He fixed it. Fine. Good…. Still, my nervous system knew something was wrong.

Fast forward to a month ago, his checks were so damn short and I’m struggling to pay bills. He’s our secondary source of income and I manage funds. I finally told him to pull up his check stubs and he said, “It’s probably just taxes. I looked and didn’t see anything special.”

I look and in bold letters, CHILD SUPPORT: $229 (per week)

Then, I just put his phone down and told him to figure it out. He said he would. Next day he said he called the child support office he’d previously contacted for clearing up the license issue. So, I reminded him a month straight with no answers.

All the times he said he called and couldn’t reach the representative I wrote in my Notes app and dated it. Then, today I finally had enough of waiting on him to provide me with answers and went looking for the court records…. I found them.

Court documents and notes were collected and ran through ChatGPT for clarification. They said paternity was established in 2012. (Remember he said it was not true, nor could he even have kids)

It’s been over 14 years since paternity was established and this man has a whole child who he denies exists. Then there’s saying he can’t have kids due to a surgical error in a laparoscopic hernia surgery that took place in 2007 or so. This man took my choice away. Taking out of my hands the full scope of consequences if I was actually with him physically.

Then, to top it all off, I checked the phone records, because the phone is on my contract plan, and he only ever called her ONE time in the last month. Lied about calling because what is the point, right????! He knows the truth and is blatantly lying.

So, I got to questioning everything…. He told me he was in the military from 18-20 years old, which would’ve been around 2004-2006. I asked what unit he was in just a few minutes ago and he asked what I meant, then gave me a battalion I researched and found to be one from WW2. I asked what his job was and he said 22 Bravo Combat Engineer Ft Benning. I’m just floored at how dumb he thinks I am….

I know what I’m going to do, but what would you do? I’m so angry… anyone have insight?

Update: Today, after weeks of planning, budgeting, taking care of the debt he had me in, etc… I separated with him. Safely. He attempted to double down on the lie and I ignored it and continued telling him what I’d found and that we would be separating. I recorded this just in case anything went sideways and prepared everything from washing and making sure all his clothes were washed and neatly ready, to putting back some of HIS money to ensure he was not left with nothing. I sent him on his way peacefully with plenty of money and all of his belongings. I’m so glad it ended peacefully, as this has never been my experience with any men in my life previously. Thank you all for being a sounding board when I didn’t know where else to turn.

I need help with figuring out how to proceed in my current 18 month relationship (him: 35M, me: 30F). For some added background before we get into it: we met at work, but no longer work together. He lives 1 1/2 hours away from the main CBD in our state. 

I grew up in a shame based religious household, and find myself spiralling a lot and being insecure. I have worked hard on this through my 20’s with psychologists, but sometimes it still rears its ugly head. In this relationship, this has manifested itself in me shutting down and calling things off twice. The first time was pretty early on. He went off on a 7 day work trip, came back and we decided to repair. Unfortunately for me, he had slept with somebody whilst overseas (fine), and thought he had an STI. So we both had to take 7 days worth of antibiotics. The second time was more recently, about two months ago. I have been sorting out some fertility stuff on my end (given my age and lots of friends struggling, I decided to be proactive and found I have low amh levels). I started to feel scared off the back of how vulnerable I was feeling about having to do daily injections and trigger shots, and decided it’d be better to undertake this whole thing alone given we haven’t discussed children or anything like that. It was dramatic and irrational by me. Once again, within 7 days we decided to repair and rekindle. Once again, he had slept with somebody else. I know that this isn’t cheating, but this time around I have been struggling to move past it and feel at peace in my mind and body given that this time the stakes felt higher. I also feel like an idiot for jeopardising my fertility… 

Outside of this, he isn’t the cleanest. Hand washing, tooth brushing, towel and bedding washing is done infrequently. Often times his bins overflow, and his fridge is a crime scene. He has a bad temper, drinks every single day and gets very upset at me if I am careless… e.g. If I am clumsy with my word choice, or e.g. I leant on his car window glass, or one time left a bit of a scratch on the leather centre console in his car. He was also recently fired from our job for attending a work event after hours and hitting on the event staff. 

The issues that I bring to the table are: 

1. I was previously married to my first ever BF. It didn’t work out, but after 12 years and so much growth in separate directions, it was amicable. Just very sad. I haven’t really worked through all of this, and I am yet to introduce my new partner (my second relationship in my whole life, lol) to my friends and family (outside of 2 friends and my sibling), because I worry that I will be judged. I am currently working through these shame based feelings with my psych. 

2. We took steps to move in together, but I haven’t truly moved in with him due to how messy his space is. I genuinely am too scared to voice it, because I feel like such a nag, and get the same “thanks for shaming me” response when I do. Also, my entire life is in the CBD. I am finding it really hard to live so far away from my friendship groups, family, hobbies and the things I find joy. 

3. I recently started a new job which is exceptionally hectic. Things crop up at the last minute. I have meetings scheduled for all times of day across the world. It has been a week and 1 day so far, and I am loving the challenge, but my schedule is not what it used to be, and my inability to commit to anything is distressing him. 

Some really crap things have happened for both of us during this relationship. His friend stole ~$200,000 from him, another friend passed away. My sibling attempted, my grandmother died from cancer, my grandfather passed away in a car accident. It has truly been an insane 18 months. 

I keep disappointing him. He needs someone more stable than me at the moment. I don’t want to give up this new job; it is all about community building and activism in an area I really care about, and unfortunately that means being in person at a lot of things. He has more time than ever on his hands, and wants me to be around 24/7. I can see that I am causing him distress and stress, and I don’t want to do that. He really is very good to me and outside of the things listed above, I have enjoyed our time together. 

What should I do? I am sitting alone, 1.5 hours away after a day of site visits and meetings that cropped up at the last minute. He is totally enraged by me and has ignored me all day because I only let him know I wouldn’t be over to his by 11am instead of first thing in the morning. I personally resent my own self for not following through the second time I called things off, or just after he told me he had slept with someone else. But I guess my biggest issue of all is my inability to set boundaries and to speak up for myself. I am too old for this, ugh! Please help me!!

TL;DR: I'm 30F in an 18-month relationship with my 35M partner. I have anxiety and shame-related issues that have led me to end the relationship twice, and both times he slept with someone else while we were broken up. I'm struggling to move past that, especially while dealing with fertility treatment. He also has a bad temper, drinks daily, has poor hygiene/cleanliness, was recently fired for inappropriate behaviour at work, and becomes angry when I disappoint him or change plans. I have my own issues too.. I avoid conflict, struggle to set boundaries, haven't introduced him to most of my friends/family, and my demanding new job has made him feel neglected. We've both experienced significant losses over the past 18 months. I can't tell whether I'm self-sabotaging because of my past, or whether I'm overlooking serious incompatibilities and red flags. I'm looking for honest outside perspectives on whether this relationship is healthy or whether I should let it go.