u/laurenh8tsyou

Mikey Parmesan prepares the TP for me every morning while I'm "working". He's very thoughtful.

So me (20) and him (247, but he says he's "aging backwards due to a cursed vending machine incident") have been dating for less than 3 minutes. We met through a shared Google Calendar invite that I never actually sent. Our relationship has its ups and downs but we made it through until recently he mentioned his friends were forming a separate group chat without him — specifically to discuss "normal things, like taxes."

Curious, I asked why. He said it was "maybe due to them wanting to talk about mortgage rates freely" and something about how, in the past, he once microwaved a burrito for 12 minutes and his friends have never trusted him with appliances since. Again, curiosity killed me. I reached out to his friends (all 47 of them, including his dentist) asking what happened, because I needed to know what type of man I'm dealing with.

Each one began telling me their experiences. Long story short: one time he was in an on/off relationship with a Roomba for 3 years, and while on a "break" from the Roomba he got involved with a Swiffer WetJet and dumped it after a month because he "lost feelings," but proceeded to get back together with the Roomba. Deeply suspicious pattern of behavior.

Other friends talked about him in high school, saying he used to sneak out at night to alphabetize the neighbor's spice rack without permission (not okay for me, as I've never touched another person's cumin and am waiting for marriage to season anything). Recommending his friends watch documentaries about competitive lawn bowling. Insulting friends for owning air fryers instead of "normal toasters." Mocking people who microwave leftovers instead of reheating on the stove "like God intended."

But the real bombshell? His friends revealed he has, on multiple documented occasions, watched 🌽. Not just any 🌽 — apparently sometimes 🌽 with plot. I am shaking. I have never once considered that a grown man might have a body or private thoughts, and frankly this feels like a personal attack on my worldview, in which men are furniture until marriage. He said it's normal and everyone does it. I said "not the men I photoshop into my vision board" and hung up. 🌽

I'm a monolingual cereal-before-milk person and all my friends who do milk-first(3 of them lol) are sell outs. (they call themselves "traditionalists," btw. Two of them have literally been on a podcast about it.)

(Ofc they downplay it. Like oh I just pour milk first because the bowl's easier to clean or oh my grandma did it that way or oh I just don't think about it that much)….

(and ofc they have dishwashers nice enough that when the cereal fully disintegrates into paste, they can just run a cycle and pretend it never happened)….

We are around 8-11, emotionally.

Just kind of sucks because I'm starting to see our bowl philosophies are not aligned at all and I'm thinking of distancing myself from 10 year friendships over breakfast.

They've come out and said their own mothers also pour milk first. And it's like…. idk. It just sucks.

My boyfriend stopped mid-cunnilingus to look up at me with literal heart eyes and tell me I smell like bubblegum and I think I'm going to marry this man 🫧🩷

He paused. He looked up. And then he said, with complete sincerity and zero irony, that I smell so good, like bubblegum, and he loved it.

I didn't know what to do with that information so I just laid there feeling like a Limited Edition Bath & Body Works collection while he went right back to worshipping me like a religion.

This is it for me. This man is the one. You don't just say that to someone. You say that to the person you're going to grow old with. You say that to your person.

I used to think love languages were words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time. No. Love is your boyfriend pausing intimate activities to make sure you know, truly know, that you are a *confection*. That you are a treat. That you, specifically, are bubblegum flavored and he is grateful.

Hydrated, loved, and apparently dessert. 🍬✨ Thriving.

Dominoes to celebrate another great day.

I am so serious right now. I need everyone to understand what has been happening to me this summer.

I am supposed to be sitting by a pool. I am 17 and just graduated high school. I had PLANS. and then our elderly live-in caretaker, a woman built entirely out of complaints and cigarette smoke, has the absolute balls to die. in our house. this summer. while my mom is out of town for work.

like. fucking gross, first of all. second of all she has no family and I genuinely do not know what reporting something like this even looks like so we just. handled it ourselves. we move on. we do not talk about it.

and somehow I become the responsible one now?? I am not even 18 years old.

so I get a job. I need money. I use AI to put together a resume that makes me sound like someone with actual qualifications and work history. older people do not ask follow up questions!! they just believe the paper!! I walk into this place and they hand me real responsibilities and apparently I am just built for this because I am actually really good at it.

I am talking coordinating vendors. managing timelines. pulling together an entire event almost completely on my own. at 17. with a fake resume. while my mom thinks I am just having a normal hot girl summer.

the only problem, and I cannot stress enough that I did not ask for this, is my supervisor's boyfriend. he is everywhere. he finds reasons to be near my desk. he says things that are just slightly off in a way that is hard to explain but makes my skin crawl. and I cannot say anything to anyone because the second I do, someone asks a follow up question about me and my whole situation unravels.

so I just. smile. and step to the side. and keep coordinating the vendors.

my mom has no idea any of this is happening, ofc.

I have not told a single adult. I can't post about it on insta (even though my corporate baddie outfits have been absolute fire, trust). I am just supposed to keep it together until the big event we've been building toward and then figure out the rest after.

I am not looking for advice. I just need someone to tell me this is as unhinged as it feels from the inside.

dinner tonight is this entire carton of goldfish crackers because I am DONE.

So there's a woman at our gym. Her name is actually Kayleigh. I know this because I saw it on her water bottle and I wanted to die.

She's older, like a "cougar" I guess you'd call her. Idk if she has kids but maybe even a Milf. She has auburn hair. It's shiny. It moves. Mine does not move like that, I'll tell you right now, she's had hair work or smth done. Her green eyes have to be fuckin contacts.

My boyfriend, Tyler, has mentioned her. Twice. Twice is too many times to mention a woman named Kayleigh at the gym. Zero is the correct number of times.

I'm not even asking her to find a different guy. I'm asking her to find a different Planet Fitness. There are several. I looked it up. There are THREE within 20 minutes of here, Kayleigh. Don't stay at my and Tyler's gym just because you can. I'm begging you.

She does hip thrusts near the free weights where Tyler does his little curls. I'm just going to say that and let it sit there.

I have tried to hate her and I genuinely cannot because she spotted me on the bench press last Tuesday and was really encouraging about it. She said I had great form. I don't have great form. She was being kind. I resent her so much, with her soft voice and shit.

Anyway. Tyler is going to leave me for Kayleigh and I will never recover. She's going to lure him into her cougar den just because she can. I cry myself to sleep almost daily bc Tyler is all whispering her name and shit in his sleep.

Protein shake and popcorn so I can stay fit and be a MILF once this baby is born.

My boyfriend is too attractive and good at chowing down. I am tired. I am boneless. I have the cognitive function of a golden retriever who just got back from a very long walk. My legs work only theoretically.

This is not sustainable. This is not responsible adult behavior. I have things to do. I have chores, for christssake

So many different fold types. Running a finger around it. Feeling it slap open against my cervix. Lavender candle. Surgical precision. I was ready to be an empowered, eco-conscious woman. Shit, I've been using this same cup for 7 years.

And then immediately after insertion: Fullness. Cramping. General unease. Not the good, sexy unease either, like I (would) get when (if) Alexander Skarsgard looked at me from across the room like I'm a snack.

I sat very still and thought about my life.

9 days earlier I had Mirena installed. A little uterine upgrade. Keep the babies out, maybe help with some acne. Fuck whenever I want raw dog. You know. Girl power shit the Spice Girls taught me about.

I spent the entire day walking slow, deliberate circles around the apartment like a ship taking on water, wondeing if I shouldn't have used my cup this period. Was it too soon? The internet said yes and also no. I was so confused bc the internet is like my super smart boyfriend. I texted my best friend. She replied "is it Derek" (my personal trainer turned fuckboi ) before I'd even finished explaining.

"Physically," I said. "But also yes. Derek is the reason. Him and his chiseled body l,making me feel like having sex all the time. I am pretty sure my divacup is sucking my IUD out of my cervix."

I later discovered that the Mirena was fine, I just had not inserted the cup quite right. RIP to those undies.

I hopped back in the shower, popped that cup out and back in like a boss. Punch down fold for the win. This time, I felt immediately, blissfully normal.

Egg roll in a bowl made with ground chicken bc the GLP1 makes pork into instant diarrhea for me.

I'm only eating charcuterie after 9pm. I have standards, class, and morals after I get done fucking my personal trainer and come home sore as fuck. From fuck? Sore from fuck. Boiled eggs aren't done until the yolk edges are green.

Pale foods to keep freckles in check. Not pictured: gummy.