u/bhexca

So being a stern old hag you’ve probably seen my posts whining about how female centric subs are always “why muh boyfriend cheat and have bad breath, don’t tell me to leave him btw” etc etc etc.

If you’re comfortable sharing, this is your sign to share a recent win.

Positive dating / relationship happenings, promotions, graduations, success in work / school, self improvement, new hobbies you’re enjoying. Something you’ve learned from. How you’ve pushed yourself to do better, or how you’ve done some self care.

No rules - just no victimhood, lack of agency, “smol girl”ing, or girl dinner diaries esque content.

I’ll start: waiting to hear back on my app for a postgrad, feeling super positive. Have recently reconnected with an old friend who I had a falling out with. Went on a lovely date with a kind, handsome, intelligent man, and we’re planning the second. Got paid, gonna treat myself. Slept really well last night.

White female, early 20s, Europe.

First date with AM. Met on the apps, been talking for like a week or so.

He’s mid/lateish 20s, highly educated international student, prestigious undergrad and currently doing postgrad too. Plays a bunch of instruments. Likes architecture.

Was very nervous to meet in person but I got the impression he had an excellent sense of humour.

Meet in person - he is a beautiful guy. Cute accent. Obviously very smart, but not condescending. Very nice hair, beautiful skin, bro even wore a suit. However, low-key heightfished me. Stop doing that, dummies. You do not have to do that. I will bully him severely regarding this during our second date.

Amazing conversation, wasn’t pushy or weird at all, great banter.

The light was radiating on bro’s skin - looking like a whole skincare ad. Beautiful eyes. Lovely smile.

At the risk of stereotyping my own people, you’re winning against like 75% of all my other dates by 1) not consuming an inappropriate volume of alc (again…Europe, lmao), 2) not trying to touch up on me, 3) not having a weird “tall poppy” syndrome and actually striving to achieve something, 4) putting clear EFFORT into your appearance.

Bro wore a shirt and tie. A nice tie, at that, guys.

Quite frankly, 10/10. I shall be having more of this. My time has finally come. And I hope it comes for you, too.

Hi, uni wanker here. I work part time but I still have a lot of hours to spare, really.

I’d love to get involved with any unpaid volunteer work going, ideally Glasgow west / city centre. I’ve applied for soup kitchens / homeless stuff etc things before however I haven’t heard back.

People who are currently volunteering, what does that look like for you and how did you get started?

Title.

See: girldinner sub, any relationship sub, any female centric area on the internet.

So your non monogamous, live-in partner has no job, you ‘have’ to work 2 jobs to pay the bills in your run down apartment, you ‘have’ to wake him up for his job interview at Subway, and you’re so upset because you also ‘have’ to wash his shit stained underwear & clean his crack pipe. And you admit you’re utterly depressed and miserable.

This is all… optional, btw. Optional. You can literally choose not to do this rather than allowing yourself to suffer and coming on the internet to embarrass yourself weekly in an attempt of looking like a martyr. You are not Joan of Arc, you are a bird.

And I’m “not being a girls girl” if I expect you to act like a fully grown adult instead of a victim and have some agency in your life. Do you want a prize for making awful choices? Just do what normal attention seekers do and say you have chronic Lyme disease.

“my exclusive situationship of six years has recently given me a mouth ulcer via his bad hygiene. He stinks of mould and mildew. I have literal cancer. And he pisses the bed. Here is my tuna salad.”

“I’m so depressed. Here’s my crackers and cheese today. Why does my husband sleep with my sister? Btw I’m not gonna leave him.”

“I have chronic pain, no arms, no legs, no friends, no money and no job. My limbs fall off when I sleep, and my temporarily non committed long distance non verbal poly partner has decided to open our relationship. Here’s pasta.”

“❤️❤️❤️OP isn’t asking for any advice❤️❤️❤️!”

So I’m supposed to, what?… ? Literally what do you want from me when you post that?

Title.

Big scream, service ladies! It’s the weekend. Use this post to let that big scream out. BIG BIG SCREAM!

From boomers pulling our pigtails / braids, condescending to us, running us ragged, touching us (!!!) and being very very familiar because we’re “just the girl” serving them…

Forced flirting. Comments on your appearance. ‘Teasing’. Uncomfortable stares. Management doesn’t have your back. That one guy has come back again and he won’t leave you alone. He comes here every weekend and he just won’t let you do your minimum wage job without somehow finding a reason to touch you, flirt with you, box you in, make you feel like some sort of emotionless service creature for his pleasure. You’re just trying to pay your bills. Just take your fucking pasta!! You freak!!

“You’re my daughters age! Hah!”

“Is your number on the menu?”

“Why don’t you smile?”

Deep breath. Inhale. Out. NOW SCREAM. If you can. We are not crazy. This has happened. It has happened to you on your shift today and you are not crazy for feeling uncomfortable with it. It is okay. We are okay. SCREAM OUT LOUD if you can, scream in your head, scream in the comments of this post.

You are okay. I’ve got you. You will be okay.

I know you just want to hit and scream. Brad and Chad at your table today made a bunch of trashy, demeaning remarks aimed at you, asked if you were a natural blonde, and left you no tip after leaving a phone number. You’re working and doing your best. You just need this pay at the end of the month. You’re sweating, you’re tired. You feel like an animal on display. You just want to scream. SCREAM.

You’re pissed off and annoyed because people who don’t get it just tell you to JUST QUIT. But you need this money because you might have school, bills, rent, food, and housing to pay for. And you can’t lose this job. That doesn’t really register to the ‘just quit, then’ people, and it angers you. Because you know even if you worked at a gas station, you would still get the crap, without any tips. So scream.

I’m here, love. I’m here. Let’s get home. Let’s take off any makeup. Let’s get a shower and a nice cup of tea.

It’s okay. Scream.

So a few years ago, I took a break from bartending - around my third year of university. Instead I took a job in a bookies. For anyone not from the UK, a ‘bookies’ is a bookmakers shop, where you go to place bets on dog and horse races. It was super simple and easy, given nowadays the computer does most of the work. All I really had to worry about was posting the sports newspapers on the walls, tactfully avoiding occasional sexual harassment, and passing on the serious stuff to my actually seasoned manager, you know?

And as a side note - it’s not that bad of a job. I’ve still kept a CD disk gifted to me by a patron. He was sort of like a grandfather figure and we bonded over music, hence the CD. I just had to put a little disclaimer there incase you think my job was always super trashy. Although, we did have our trashy moments.

Local Slang: ‘hen’ in Scots dialect (story based in Scotland) would be equivalent to ‘love’ or ‘hon’. ‘Aye’ is yes, or just being in agreement with a statement etc.

Now, that’s boring. Let’s get to the story.

I’m in my bookie uniform, which is a polo shirt and plain black trousers, with very plain black shoes.

It’s time for my break, and I go to a local supermarket to pick up a sandwich and a drink.

While I’m in a random aisle, a sweet (VERY) old lady stops me.

Elderly lady: “SCUSEE me, I can’t see any bread?”

Me: “hmm?”

EL: “Bread, you know? …bread? Where do you keep the bread here?”

It hadn’t really registered to me at this point, given the ‘uniform’, she would thought I was at work.

Me: “Uhh …uhm… I think it’s maybe over there?”

I had the time - my shop was literally two minutes away - and just took it upon myself to go with her, and I thought I’d know where the bread and baked stuff was anyways.

EL: “Aye, aye - that’s it, my love. There we go! Well done.”

Me: “Aye!”

EL: “You’re doing lovely, hen. Don’t worry, you’ll learn”

She thought I was a new girl at the supermarket.

Bucket of mixed body fluids next to your bed, right? Probably pee and vom - pee being mixed with blood. Atleast you’re not pregnant. That’s a massive achievement. We’re gross, but atleast most of us still clean up well.

Empty the bucket discretely, rinse and clean. Spray around and get rid of the empties. It will make you feel better.

Anyways, get your disgusting asses to the shower, too. Clean yourself up and do the necessary sanitation, you bleeding, bloated wenches.

If it’s within your budget right now, I’d recommend during your alchy mensies to get that protein in. Personally last night I had a steak with my bevvies. Today I ignored my bullshit wagie job (what can I say, everybody lynch me about how much harder your lives are and you don’t have daddy’s money.) to drink and watch gaming livestreams. (Yes yes, I know, you haven’t eaten in days, and I’m a fake alchie for eating food.)

God knows I’m not giving up my favourite thing in the world. I envy you slim, vodka and no food female CAs to an extent, but I can’t afford socially to get arrested prostituting myself at a Denny’s. Hence I am currently choosing the wine / beer / food path, despite it taking longer to get tipsy, and costing more.

Furthermore, conveniently I have anxiety, so shaking hands / weird mannerisms can be excused by that.

Also, since I’m womanposting - dating as a female CA is ass now. Every guy is a sober protein shake guzzling gym bro. Or alternatively, the type of freshly borderline college alchie I sneer at, the ones who will embarrass me in public when they chimp out and get into shit. You know this shit is meant to be our *secret* right? You’re giving away my game. Why can’t you lock yourself away like a normal person, and just LARP the rest of the time? Pitiful.

Alright, I’ve been looking for this for ages, but I forget the name.

It’s like some sort of dystopian planet, vintage flick. Guy gets the girl pregnant. Awful dystopian planet. That’s all I can remember?

Thank you if you can help me, I only watched part of it before I lost the name, and it seemed like a great film.

Be me. Get home from day of mandatory normie time and normie drinking: Just want to enjoy home bevs.

Bev status - medium stock. Good enough. However, low on nicotine. Being a zoomer, and of course I have a landlord who would break my legs if I smoke indoors, my default is vapes or zyns. I opt for zyns.

Anyways, prancing around all day in my little heels. I ain’t going outside. I delivery app some zyns, and hell, throw more booze in there.

Then I get a call from delivery man. He’s like a block away. I ask if he can please just fucking do what normal delivery people do every fucking time and put my addy in his GPS. But no, I have to go collect him. Sure, princess.

Outside I go, pouring rain, in nothing but my skimpy dress from earlier, some awful sneakers I shoved on, and my makeup half down my visage.

Anyway, I find him. Turns out I somehow this time out of many entered my date of birth wrong per ID, and he says it’s illegal and he gotta refuse delivery. No worries dude. I scamper down another block to the corner store in the pissing rain, buy my gay little pseudo niccies and go home.

Then lo and behold, just as I’m back in the warmth of my apartment, delivery man calls me and tells me I gotta come BACK outside ASAP, because now apparently the app people have said it’s a legal delivery (I showed my ID to him, before, btw) and there’s something wrong with the system. But I know I probably just tipsy typed and it’s my fault.

Anyway I scamper-run back outside, to the other block in the rain - he’s hooting and hollering about this taking him 40 minutes of his time. I’m like - yo dude, you should have just taken it back to the store. I wasn’t gonna cause a ruckus about it. Then he accused me of having a fake ID, and gave me the bag anyways before storming back into his car.

Chairs, folks?…atleast I got my stuff? Let’s pour one out for our boy. Rough shift, man.

Just a thank you so much for all the helpful comments and advice.

I know I got trolled…pretty hard in the comments. I got some lovely DMs apart from the usual expected ones.

I hope we late night workers all catch our last subway safe. Or if you get a taxi, I hope that’s safe for you! My taxi driver tonight was so lovely and kind.

I hope we keep speaking up about this. It’s sad to say I’ve gotten used to being called a liar, or a etc (insert swear word here) man hater etc.

And the political stuff people were forcing into my post was a whole other issue. May I say again - if I tell you I’ve been harassed or followed by men, many MANY MANY men of all backgrounds and races (I’m 24 and have bartended / EXISTED as a woman for years…) why is your first reaction to either blame me, or say it’s the fault of immigrants?

Let’s continue to speak up and say this City rejects harassment.

Harassment is not okay. Catcalling is not okay. Leave people alone. Thank you!