Elsa posted:

Our study confirmed the following:

Perceived creepy people are more likely to be males than females.

Females are more likely to perceive sexual threat from creepy people.

Occupations do differ in level of perceived creepiness. Clowns, taxidermists, sex-shop owners, and funeral directors were at the top of the list.

Unpredictability is an important component of perceived creepiness.

A variety of non-normative physical characteristics and nonverbal behaviors contribute to perceptions of creepiness.

Participants did not believe that most creepy people realize they are creepy, nor did they believe that creepy people necessarily have bad intentions. However, they also believed that creepy people could not change.

The most frequently mentioned creepy hobbies involved collecting things, such as dolls, insects, or body parts such as teeth. Bones or fingernails were considered especially creepy; the second most frequently mentioned creepy hobby involved some variation of "watching," such as taking pictures of people, watching children, pornography, and even bird watching.

Moridin920 posted:

I feel like I wouldn't be weirded out by taxidermy unless it was covering every free spot like a hunting lodge on amphetamines or something.

quote:

Ok so, I’m 23 and I'm black, my mum is lightskin and my dad is very dark skinned, I’m kinda in between, I love my skin color and my body I’m slender, I have very feminine curves, small waist-wide hips-big bum-medium sized boobs. I never had any issues with my body, infact I always felt really confident and I love showing it off.
My interests and tastes are very varied, I like lots of different things (I mean who doesn’t?) I love dressing very feminine, I love wearing high heels and dresses that show off my curves but at the same time I love wearing baggy T shirts, jeans and some skate shoes when I can’t be bothered to put on make up and dress up sometimes.. I have lots of tattoos and some piercings (none of them on my face) and I like to change my hair up A LOT, from weaves to dying it to braids.
My style really depends on how I’m feeling, sometimes I feel really girly so I dress up and sometimes I feel like poo poo so I just put on whatever, I mean who cares right?
During the start of our relationship my boyfriend always praised black women(he only dates black women cause he prefers them to other races), he says we’re beautiful and have amazing bodies and he loves dark skin and kinky hair (which is cool, there’s nothing wrong with preferring a race over another) HOWEVER, a year into the relationship, he started to make ‘jokes’ about how I’m ‘’not black enough’’ It didn’bother me at first, we all say stupid jokes sometimes but he kept going ON AND ON AND ON AND ON with it for like a month
He thinks that ‘’black women’’ have to fit a certain look and personality.. I mean what the hell? He didn’t tell me this but that’s what he always seems to insinuate when this subject comes up. Me having tattoos and piercings/dyed hair is apparently not black enough, he says the only black thing about me is my ‘rear end’ which kinda hurts my feelings. He says I sound like a white girl when I talk (i don’t even know what the gently caress this is supposed to mean, like black women are supposed to all sound alike?!)
Whenever I ask him about this stuff he says he doesn’t mean anything offensive, he says I should KNOW that he loves black women and for him they're the most beautiful.
But if the really does, why would he say poo poo like that? It gets to the point where I don’t know if I’m the one being an uptight oval office or not..
The lovely thing is that my mum agrees with him. She also thinks I’m ‘’not black enough’’ because I don’t have black facial features, I have very thick lips but my nose is a bit thin, apparently this makes me NOT black.
This stuff makes me sad, I feel like my boyfriend is slightly racist for thinking that black women ALL look alike and sound alike, and he doesn’t see it from my point of view.. My mum makes me feel inferior, the way she says the poo poo she says to me, makes me sound like I’m lesser than those ‘’real’’ black women. And my confidence is taking a dive too, because of this poo poo. I don’t feel confident with my body that much, I feel lacking. How can I fix this? And go back to feeling sexy again?
TL;DR = boyfriend thinks im not black enough because of the way I dress and the way I speak, my mum agrees with him and I feel bullied by both of them and now I'm starting to lose my confidence

A Wizard of Goatse posted:

what the gently caress do you get refused a bank account for, ISIS affiliation?


ummmm....

Pick posted:

Mirthless posted:

Best case scenario is that they are dodging a monetary judgment against them or tried to pass too many bad checks.

Worst case scenario, they are a fugitive criminal or a deadbeat dad/husband trying to hide from the legal system.

Moridin920 posted:

Now I imagine you living in some kind of Mads Mikkelson as Hannibal-eque log cabin, surrounded by dolls, bones, body parts, and stuffed animals that stare down at you as you walk in.

Moridin920 posted:

Now I imagine you living in some kind of Mads Mikkelson as Hannibal-eque log cabin, surrounded by dolls, bones, body parts, and stuffed animals that stare down at you as you walk in.


Dunno about that dude in the story but fwiw I knew a lot of cooks and stuff who just cashed their checks at the WalMart or liquor store versus having a bank account, usually because of some thing.

CharlestheHammer posted:

Well the implication was he couldn't get one, not that he didn't want one.

But I dont know if it was outright said.

cumshitter posted:

Banks don't give a poo poo about your credit when you open an account because you're giving them money. So he's either too dumb to understand why he can't have one or he's lying to her on top of it.

cumshitter posted:

Banks don't give a poo poo about your credit when you open an account because you're giving them money. So he's either too dumb to understand why he can't have one or he's lying to her on top of it.

CharlestheHammer posted:

Well the implication was he couldn't get one, not that he didn't want one.

But I dont know if it was outright said.

quote:

I’ve been in a very devastating relationship for 8 years. For educational purposes, I moved away from my husband’s home-country last fall, and only after living on my own for 9 months have I found the courage to share my story anonymously. My story is a long one, but I am grateful for you reading it.
When I was 18, I moved abroad for the first time and very soon I met this guy who was foreign, handsome and cool and who to me was a window of opportunity to escape my previous life of a small country, emotionally abusive family and friends. So I decided that I would fall in love with him no matter what and make him love me in return. He was very calm about me and almost never tried to hide it. We moved in together almost immediately, although both of us were living abroad, so moving in was not something massive: I only had to move my suitcase in with him. He almost stopped French-kissing me 2 weeks after we started dating. I tried to ask him about it, but he would always say that he liked kisses on the cheek much more. So it was. I was very attracted to him and was very excited to have sex with him in the first weeks we were together, but after the first attempt failed, he explained me that he was too big to fit in a condom and that this condom experience traumatized him immensely, so every time he saw a condom he would be turned off. I believed him and started taking pills, but then he came up with new excuses: what if the pills were not reliable enough and what if I got pregnant. Again, I believed that and tried my best to help him find a solution.
During that time, right from the first night when we were ‘trying’ to have sex, he explained me that men cannot be hard for more than 5 minutes and that they need to cum, otherwise it hurts them a lot. So I needed to give him hand jobs. I was a virgin and it was very easy for him to make me believe all those fantastic stories. He, however, would never touch me in return. In fact, he would never even look at me. He humiliated me for wanting to have sex with him, for wanting being naked and for wanting to touch him even. He said I was a ‘bad girl’ and that I was into ‘naughty things’. At some point he played it so well that I almost had to beg him to give him a hand job. And all that time from the first week we dated I cooked, cleaned and washed for him, I took complete care of everything and he was quite cool about it all along. I thought that he was negative about pre-marital sex, so I was even proud of how honest and highly-moralized my man was.
He was never excited about getting married with me, but I wanted him more than anything else in the entire universe, I wanted to keep him. Finally, he agreed to marry, saying that it would be the only chance for me to get residential visas in his home-country. The fact that he, by marrying me, could get visas and work permits to the EU could never be part of the narrative; I tried to say that it benefited us both, but he always was cool about it and ‘never needed it’, although he has of course used it extensively afterwards. However, he would only marry me in a private symbolic ceremony with no wedding, no festivities and no guests. On our first night, when I was happy, excited and ready to give myself to him once and forever, he kissed me on the forehead, turned around on the bed and fell asleep. He never attempted having sex with me ever since, although I begged for it and did everything to have it. I am a very slender, tall girl and where I live now, I am often told that I am attractive; however, when I have been told so before, I always found a way of excusing it: that particular man who hit on me was probably extremely lonely, or that men looked at me because I had spilled something on my blouse.
Needless to say, hand jobs had to continue because I wanted him to feel good and healthy; it’s a common belief in my home country that people can only be healthy if they have regular sex. Consequently I felt that even though I was deprived of it, I could never take it away from him. As for not having actual sex – we have never had that even once, in the course of 8 years - he would come up with new excuses every time: sometimes there were other people staying in the same house (!) with us and they would hear me ‘screaming’, sometimes it was the fear of pregnancy although I was on the pill all the time. Sometimes it was just that I was too pushy for it and that this was a turn-off for him. My whole body hurt from the pain of being close to the man I loved madly and selflessly, from giving him sexual pleasure and from being completely and utterly rejected. Every time after a hand job I needed to run to fetch some napkins. He would never touch me and he made me believe that I was disgusting, dirty and unclean. And oh, I believed that! I tried to talk to him about the sexual problems millions of times and every time he would tell me to stop pushing him, he would say that he was working on solving the problems and that we shouldn’t talk about it at all. He would push me when I tried to kiss him, he would make me sleep on a separate bed whenever there was a chance and he never even once called me by my first name. Ever.
I also did ALL of the house work, not only routinely, but very nicely. I wanted him to have a beautiful cosy home, great food, superb desserts. I wanted to give him the best. He, however, cooked for me only once when I was in bed with severe fever and vomiting and he cooked me a cup of instant soup. He would quit jobs after doing them for a week, claiming that the jobs/environments/people there were unbearable and that they were destroying for his personality. So, his parents and I had to take care of the finances, which he was completely cool about. At some point he said that he wanted to be an academic, so he quit a job where he worked for a month after being unemployed for 1,5 years and I helped him get into a graduate programme at the university. He was very happy and very excited about it, but he claimed that he was not good at academic writing, so I needed to help him. This help was that I did his every single assignment, which made him rank school’s first and got him into several Master’s and PhD programs, including ones at Oxford, Cambridge and LSE. And he didn’t even do his applications himself, all of it was my job, because ‘I was helping him as spouses are supposed to help each other’ and ‘I was doing it for myself as much as I was doing it for him because it was for our family’s common good’. And every time he would tell me that either the assignment was crap or that my English was insufficient. Each of the papers I wrote for him got top marks; I did even better with his papers than with my own.
The reason why it all lasted for so long and why I never suspected anything was that he would always victimize himself, cuddle on my lap and cry about how tough life was for him. And he would always blame me, make me apologise for everything, including his mistakes (sometimes I did it on my knees) and he would strictly forbid me talking to anyone including my parents about it. He even tried to forbid me seeing some of my friends, who would ‘contaminate me with feminist ideas’. I had to cut contact with all of my male friends. And the worst thing was that he made it in such a nice and sacrificing way that I believed that a really loving couple should not spend time with their friends, and should only seek each other in this world. That lovers just want to spend all of their time together and should not waste it with other people. So, I was deeply ashamed when I spent time – especially when it was fun – with other people. I was shamed and blamed for everything, and I believed myself to be a deadly sinner who would rot in hell; a person who should spend her whole life on charitable activities to save the people I love from the ‘spill-overs’ of my sins.
We’ve been together for 8 years. 8 years of sexual humiliation, myths, hard work and self-disrespect. Of course there were happy moments, too, when we would eat the dinners that I cooked for us, or when we watched movies at home. I was a very happy person and I was a very cheerful one, because every time I complained about something, he made me feel as a traitor and as a selfish, ungrateful tart. When I finally gathered strength to tell my story to my best friend, I was sure my friend would be judgemental about me and would stop talking to me, because I was sure I did everything wrong in this relationship. I was sure that everything was my fault and that I was never able to help my loved one and support him in the way he needed it.
I tried to break up, but my husband threatens me with suicide all the time and says that he has always loved me, but has just failed to show it clearly. Moreover, he says that he has never realized that good relationship, signs of love and sex were somehow important for me. And he openly says that I was very good at showing him that I loved him immensely, that he never thought that I could eventually leave him and that he just had fun pushing the limits to see how far I could go.
The worst thing is that I feel deep guilt and sorrow for him. I developed a feeling that he was my child and that there was only me in the whole world to take care of him, to listen to him and to help him through life. And now when I live away and have a wonderfully rich social and professional life, I feel that I don’t deserve happiness and respect, that I am a sinner and a wicked creature and that I need to stop wanting being happy, that I need to stop my life, return to him and continue taking care of him for the rest of my life. I can’t even realize whether he has actually done anything to me or whether I’m just complaining about something entirely normal. My perception of truth is so wretched that I don’t understand what is normal and what is outside the framework of normality. Even when I am writing right now, I am afraid that I present my story too single-sided and too subjectively. Generally, I feel like a traitor for talking to people about it. I don’t know what to do and how to live on with that. I would love to hear what you think about my story. Thank you for taking your time to read it.
TL;DR Was in a relationship for 8 years, but never allowed to have sex, told to be guilty for wanting it, did chores and academic papers and finances for him.
edit 1: Thank you so much everyone for reading my story! I never expected anyone to actually care. I was afraid that even my friends would turn their backs to me, because the bizarre thing is that, no matter what, I feel guilty and as the one to blame. I guess that's the dynamics of an abusive relationship (even now, after seeing 73/73 comments supporting me, I considered if writing 'abusive' was too judgmental). Sadly, I'm not a troll; if only it were a fruit of my imagination, yet it's 1/3 of my life. It really is helpful to hear the opinions of people who have no stake in the situation and who have a clear outsider perspective. Thanks again everyone for taking your time, I really appreciate what you are saying.
edit 2: I also hope that someone else in the same situation might be seeing this. Thank you all for making it clearer to me, and hopefully others.
edit 3: I'll get to answer some of your comments a little later, but I hope that you understand that it's been overwhelming just to write the story itself, and to see that anybody cared to comment.

Hughlander posted:

More secret search word this one is a bit for this thread though...

Married for 8 years, never had sex, but pleased him

Moridin920 posted:

Credit doesn't really have anything to do with it.

nomad2020 posted:

This thread really needs to google chexsystem.

Mirthless posted:

You don't get turbo hosed by chexsystem over bad credit. You get there by bouncing checks and evading judgments.

Your credit score can't go low enough without doing some real hosed up poo poo

Pick posted:

Guys like that really pluck at heartstrings, for women who are driven to nurture they will often be taken in. A familiar kind of story.

nomad2020 posted:

It is its own separate credit score that's only tangentially related to the other credit score.

quote:

u/chartito1y
My husband (40M) is giving me (38F) the silent treatment.

On the way to lunch today, my husband sees the river and said "The river looks great. I'm getting the boat tomorrow and we are going out this weekend"

I told him that I don't want to go out on the boat this weekend. While we do live in FL and get to boat in the winter, it's supposed to get pretty cold (the report I heard said in the 30's) and I don't want to go. Also, he does this all the time. He unilaterally decides what we are doing without asking me if I want to.

So he told me "I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to do" (which surprised me because he hates not getting his own way) Then he says "If you want to sit on your rear end all weekend and watch TV, that’s up to you"....Aww there it is.

So he gives me the silent treatment all through lunch and refuses to kiss me when he drops me back off at work. Nice.

Just to add....I financed our boat for him because after 5yrs together and listening to whine about living in FL right next to the water and not having a boat, I thought it would be something nice I could do for him. I figured he would take some of his friends out once in a while. We've had the boat for almost a year and it's only been me and his kids out on it....and he refuses to take the kids without me. So every single time he wants to go out, I have to go. He wants to go every weekend. So I went from hearing him whine about not having a boat to hearing him whine every weekend about not being on the boat.

Just last weekend, he made the decision to go to the park for their kid-palooza weekend. They had a petting zoo, 15 bounce houses and several booths set up. His idea....On the way there, he was complaining that we weren't on the boat. It's gotten so bad that even his 12yr old daughter has told me that she's never getting a boat when she grows up.

I hate boating now.

If you were in my position, how would you handle this boat thing?

tl;dr: My husband is being a man baby because I don't want to go out on our boat this weekend.

Nazzadan posted:

I [25F] am pretty sure my marriage to [29M] won't last because I like to do my own thing and my husband... does not.

Comments

therobit posted:

Bubblyblubber posted:

Ah yes, the fascinating world of financial institutions

Bonster posted:

She sounds like she has severe anxiety and issues stemming from a possibly emotionally abusive childhood, and his solution is to rampage over what she wants (constantly waking her up, refusing to leave her room when he knows it's an issue for her because it isn't an issue for him, insisting on doing everything with her but complaining when she invites him on her drives, etc.). Both of them are miserable. She's responding by withdrawing more and more, he's responding by being more intrusive and demanding. Neither are having their needs met. Neither party is really at fault here, they just fundamentally misunderstand each other's needs. They desperately need couple's counseling to figure out reasonable boundaries.

CharlestheHammer posted:

Yes asking her to watch a show with him is insanely demanding.

Nazzadan posted:

I [25F] am pretty sure my marriage to [29M] won't last because I like to do my own thing and my husband... does not.

Comments

Lt. Danger posted:

Schizoid lady is doing nothing wrong

Pvt.Scott posted:

Getting a blow-jay before running errands would be pretty alright.

Pvt.Scott posted:

lol what? Have you never had someone pay for dinner with a card and then get cash from peeps after? Or maybe you know somebody with Amazon Prime and you need some poo poo delivered or they have some vendor shipping dealie and they throw your poo poo on the next invoice and you give them cash for your poo poo? Never not once?

quote:

he asked if he could use my credit card to buy a skate board online and he would give me cash. I told him no

quote:

I get home from work and look through my emails and see one from my credit card company that says there was a large purchase recently and asked me to review it. Apparently after he returned the shoes, he used my card to purchase a $120 skate board online. I was mad and asked him why