quote:

My boyfriend, we have been together for 2 years, has recently brought a drill. This on its own is fine but this drill has made him go very weird. He wanted me to be there when he picked it out for some reason, Like he picked me up we drove to the place he brought it and he dropped me back home.

He also keeps trying to show off by saying how this is a manly skill he is learning and he enjoys doing manly things like this (emphasis on the manly XD). He has also told me I am lucky to have someone to help me around the house in the future rather then having to pay someone to do it for who will probably scam me. In the past two weeks he has mentioned this bloody drill at least 5 times a day if not more. Its annoying.

The thing that bugs me the most is that he thinks I am incapable of fixing stuff by myself. I of all people feel like I am more qualified then the average person for fixing stuff. Growing up if my dad ever had to fix something he would make me help, whether it being a plug, car, literally anything. When I was 14 for two years I did I level 2 engineering course. Just last year my dad and I renovated a whole kitchen doing everything, plumbing, the walls etc. other then the electricity I did it and even then I have a weird little hobby of making crappy robots/ electronics so I could have probably done it anyway. My boyfriend is fully aware of all of this.

I just want to know if this is me just being insecure and thinking he is trying to attack me when he isn't or if this is something I need to deal with. If this is something I need to deal with what would the best way be to do so?

TLDR: My boyfriend has brought a drill and is now annoying me.

DragQueenofAngmar posted:

there is definitely some part of picky eating that’s not down to parenting though; like I was always down to try any food, whereas my sister ate nothing but peach yogurt and fish sticks from 3-5, but then got over it and has no picky eating issues. so, idk

Beachcomber posted:

It's not necessarily set in stone. I would literally (literally literally) not eat anything but mashed potatoes and gravy for more than a year when I was three. Then it was grilled ham and cheese. Any restaurant we went to had to have one of those. I apparently had incredible willpower. Wish I had saved some.

Today I eat things that horrify my family, like sushi or poke. If you can name a culture I'll at least try the food. I'd really like to try horse steak and dairy cow steak. I'm working up the courage for lengua tacos.

Still need to try scrapple next time I'm home.

Pinecone Sample posted:

My (20f) boyfriend (24m) has brought a drill and keeps going on about how manly he is and is being annoying.

LadyPictureShow posted:

Deadbeat "partner" of ten yearls

Barudak posted:

What keeps killing your Jarls so fast youve gone through 10 of them?

Pinecone Sample posted:

My (20f) boyfriend (24m) has brought a drill and keeps going on about how manly he is and is being annoying.

QuarkJets posted:

Your boyfriend is actually a bunch of 3 year olds in a trench coat

Batterypowered7 posted:

Pinecone Sample posted:

My (20f) boyfriend (24m) has brought a drill and keeps going on about how manly he is and is being annoying.

quote:

TLDR: We went poly, wife refused to ever set boundaries, moved her boyfriend in against my wishes, we’re getting a divorce, she blames me for abandoning her. Her boyfriend still lives with us.

This is an update to the Time Management and Resentment series, but from a new account since my divorce is pending.

In September of last year, my wife and I decided to explore polyamory after already enjoying group sex and a semi-open marriage for years.

I have a few long distance chat partners through reddit that I talk to once or twice a week. She soon met a few people and began to casually date them.

Around December of 2018, she became more serious with one of her casual boyfriends, a jobless vet on disability who lived a few blocks from our house. He began to spend more and more time at our home. I was in the middle of switching jobs, from somewhere that often required 60hrs a week and every weekend, to a job that would guarantee I was home by 4:30ish every day, seldom a weekend worked, and on average a week of travel a month. My wife is a homemaker who cares for our 5 year old son.

In the middle of all of this, my wife was and is still dealing with alcoholism. I tried to support her in anyway I could, but admittedly probably ended up enabling more than helping. I made all the classic mistakes: covering up for her, bargaining on the amount of alcohol she could have, and finally withdrawing from engaging her on the subject after she repeatedly berated me that I was judging her and making her feel ashamed.

Her boyfriend started coming over every day and they drank together. Whenever i was at work he was over. Soon he was over until 9pm, 10pm, or 11pm 5-6 days a week. It was always the same story. I’d come home, she’d tell me he’s leaving soon, then around 10pm he heads home after they lost track of time talking, or smoking together, or a ptsd flashback forced her to talk him down and let him hang out until he could walk home.

Then he began sleeping over in our converted garage/home office. First because he was too drunk to head home, then because he slept better here (he lives with his parents on their couch), then because she purchased a large festival art piece and he was helping her complete it (did i mention he got her into larping.). Whenever I travel he lives with her in our home. I ask if he’s sleeping in our bed but she says no. Convinces me she’s afraid of being alone in home while I’m gone. I buy it.

She asks to give him a key, a gesture and a practicality. I make her promise he won’t move in. She does.

I feel like I begged her more and more for time and boundaries. She kept bringing up my old job, and how I of all people should understand how hard it is to set boundaries. She didn’t want to feel like her time was being scheduled by two men. She didn’t want to commit to exact days he couldn’t be over because it was too hard. She insisted on coming out of the poly closet because she didn’t want to feel ashamed, despite my reservations. She insisted on having him at our sons 5th bday party first because he was someone important to her, then because she said our son invited him. By this point we’ve had several blow up fights over the months about how imbalanced our relationship has become. He goes home for a day or two here and there, but she spends all day texting with him even on family trips. I tell her again he can’t live with us. She agrees.

The larping stuff explodes in their faces because he has ex wives at the events, and my wife catches beef with most of the people there. My wife wants me to call out the event staff and his ex on facebook and i refuse. She throws it in my face that i never supported her, and that’s kinda the last straw. I tell her I want to separate. A friend comes to mediate. I ask that her boyfriend go home before i get home from work 3 days a week. My wife wants 1 day. Week. We settle on two. She complains to me her boyfriend should’ve been part of the conversation and allowed to speak his piece. At this point I hate her. I confront them both that he is now living with us. Both stay silent, neither wants to acknowledge it out loud. The look of pity and patronization on their faces will haunt me to the day I die.

We try for about 2 week. Things seem to be getting better. She’s making more of an effort. She continues to be somewhat upset that I’m making her boyfriend feel uncomfortable because I keep my space from him and don’t acknowledge him. She tells me I’m not being civil. Then finally we have it out one night while he’s not there. She wants a better definition of what “living with us” means. I tell her I know it when I see it. She accuses me of not communicating well, of never supporting her. He’s the only person who has supported her in her struggle against alcoholism. It’s what she needs right now, him living with us, and I’m trying to take away her support network and force her to be a housewife again. I tell her we brought this home for our family, our son, it’s not ethical for her to let him live there if I don’t consent. She comes back with more stuff about my old job, this home was meant for her to have a better life because she gave everything up for me. I tell her I want a divorce.

Her first question to me is “Does this mean he still can’t live here.”

————————————-

That was about a week and a half ago. I’m grieving. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the house. I can’t force her to leave and they both now live in my garage. I’m being advised by everyone to go ugly and have them both thrown out, and seek sole custody. She wants me to be patient as she finds a job for herself, and not bring up that the reason we’re divorcing is still in the garage. She’s posting to facebook that I decided to leave her. Our friends in the know are either keeping their distance, or telling me to have no remorse. She wants the house. Part of me wonders if we even could’ve gone back, but writing this now i see I lost her months ago and was manipulated at every turn. I’m being manipulated now even, because she’s pushing for us to take our son out together to show him we can be civil. I told her that might be confusing for him, but honestly I know it’ll also be confusing for me. She wants to remind me we can be a family, but I don’t want to go back to weekends with her as her boyfriend lives here rent and worry free. I just want to be happy again.

LadyPictureShow posted:

A poly horror story. Make sure you have set non-negotiable rules and that your partner isn't abusive.

PHIZ KALIFA posted:

hnnnnnngh gepetto help i'm trying to become a real boy but i'm dummy thicc and the clap of my wooden asscheeks keeps bedeviling me with whale attacks

Bruceski posted:

I have known people who have wonderful poly relationships, but man when those things go bad they go REALLY bad.

LadyPictureShow posted:

A poly horror story. Make sure you have set non-negotiable rules and that your partner isn't abusive.

Smirking_Serpent posted:

/r/relationships: did i mention my wife's boyfriend got her into larping.

Bruceski posted:

I'm not familiar with judo or the risks involved. Naturally people get injured by accident in this sort of thing, but is that something that can just happen or some Cobra Kai poo poo?

LadyPictureShow posted:

Speaking of, does anyone have the link to that op ed about the guy claiming to be happy that he helped his wife's boyfriend construct an add-on/spare room for him?

E: Wait, I think the article was by the wife, claiming the husband was happy to construct it.

PHIZ KALIFA posted:

hnnnnnngh gepetto help i'm trying to become a real boy but i'm dummy thicc and the clap of my wooden asscheeks keeps bedeveling me with whale attacks

quote:

A couple days my family and I went on a road trip to Florida to go and visit family. Since the drive would be long and we didn’t want to stop that much and spend money, my mom made alot of sandwiches for us the whole family to eat at various times. (For clarification, I’m 20, and my younger brother and sister are 14 and 16 respectively).

When lunchtime came while we driving, I easily finished my sandwich and was still hungry, and my parents had no intentions of stopping. I noticed that my siblings hadn’t even taken the sandwiches out of the bag and asked them why and they replied that they weren’t hungry. I’m quite a large man, and my younger siblings are sticks respectively, so I need to eat a lot more than them while they can get by with relatively little. Starved, I decided if they weren’t going to eat their lunch food I would just eat their sandwiches and then they could eat the dinner food which they would presumably be hungry by then.

45 minutes passed and my siblings asked where their sandwiches went, and I told them I ate because they weren’t having lunch, and my family immediately turned on me asking what was wrong with me and how I was in the wrong. My younger sibling even resorted to calling me a fatass and other fatphobic insults. I tried explaining but they were having none of it.

I don’t feel I’m in the wrong here, but reddit, IATA?

quote:

I'm wondering if this is party sub guy trying to trick us into a double standard.

Dazerbeams posted:

I believe the trick to a good poly relationship is to keep it a deep dark secret. The magical spell is broken if the truth is ever shared, and then the whole thing bursts into flames.

Edit: You're talking about an article, and the husband was building a man shed for himself while the boyfriend moved into the main house. The built the shed together while the wife watched proudly.

quote:

When a Boyfriend Joins the Marriage
They agreed she could have sex on the side as long as he didn’t have to know about it. Then she fell in love.

Two guys are out in the backyard banging around, building a work space, a studio. One is lean with dark hair; the other stockier, his gray hair clipped close to his skull. I hear their laughter over the sound of the air compressor for the nail gun. The siding is going up.

They started this job more than a year ago. Most homeowners would be annoyed at how long it’s taking. I’m not. They’re building it for free. They’re building it for me.

I bring them water. I kiss one good night but not the other. One is my boyfriend of 10 years. The other is my husband. My husband and I actually consider ourselves exes, but we never divorced. We still love each other, just not romantically. We have lived together all these years under the same roof, although not the same bedroom.

What happened was this: 15 years ago, I woke up in the night, nudged him awake and said, “I need your permission to have an affair.”

Our then 2-year-old son had just left the family bed. My husband and I were alone again with a gaping hole where passion should be. We had tried to bring it back through counseling, sex therapy and lingerie. I needed the dance of knee against knee under the table. I needed an unabashed, open-mouthed kiss. So we came to an agreement.

“I don’t want to know,” he said. “Don’t bring it home.”

This went on for several years. I met men at hotels and at their homes in the hills.

Then, I met a new guy at a bar in the Mission District, the perfect place to meet before a one-night stand. Except I fell for him the moment he handed me a red Gerber daisy. I fell for the small gap between his teeth. I touched his hand by feigning interest in the ring he had made from a bicycle spoke. We loved the same obscure music.

Days later, he waltzed with me on Berkeley Pier, my gloves arranged in his breast pocket like a kerchief. He created a rabbit out of a squeegee and a towel and made me laugh at its antics.

The afternoon I chose to tell my husband, light streamed into our yellow kitchen. Our son was in his room, playing with Hogwarts toys.

“This wasn’t our agreement,” he said. We discussed it calmly. One of us mentioned divorce. One of us said, “Should we move apart?” Then it was silent again.

I was a child of divorce. When I came home from school, the house was empty. My mother worked an hour away and didn’t get home until after 6.

I saw my father on Sundays, sometimes. He would take us to car shows or to buy fish for our aquarium. I don’t think he ever wanted children. He wasn’t interested in talking to me about books or cheerleading. He once jokingly tossed me over the side of a boat, saying, “That’s how you learn to swim!”

My siblings were wild, sneaking out to parties in the woods. I grew up mostly alone. I dreamed of having a family to travel with or joke together over dinner.

I had this now. We made Lego villages, played music, sang out of tune. We stopped for smiley-face pancakes when we drove to San Diego to see my in-laws. We took up a whole row on the airplane, creating our own happy world of snacks, cartoons and surprises for our son.

I couldn’t imagine not waking up in the house with my child, having to drop him off at his father’s house, not kissing his sleepy cheeks every night.

I wanted my family. And I wanted my boyfriend.

When I suggested we could be roommates, my husband agreed. I clung to the idea like a life raft.

We ordered another bed and turned my husband’s office into a second bedroom. I didn’t know if it was possible to create a new kind of family, but like a child who pushes against the boundaries of her parents’ rigid rules, I wanted to find out.

Months later, I said, “I want to introduce him to our son.”

“If you bring someone else in,” my husband said, “we need to move apart. I don’t want to meet him.”

Weeks passed. Then my husband said, “Wild Side West. 5:30. Wednesday night.”

I don’t remember if I drove to that meeting with my husband or my boyfriend. I do remember sitting in the beer garden with sweat on my forehead.

We sat in a little triangle, my husband sitting stiffly and my boyfriend leaning back as if to give us more room. I perched on a rickety stool. We could have been in a lawyer’s office, drawing up papers.

The moment was about a child. The conversation was about who we are to this boy. Who will we be to him and to each other? How do we trust?

We set a meeting for the playground the following week. We three adults had planned it out carefully. My son and I would be playing on the monkey bars. My boyfriend would show up and I would introduce him as my friend.

When he arrived, he was carrying an old radio and some tools. He had remembered from our conversations that my son loved to disassemble electronics.

My boyfriend juggled two screwdrivers and a wrench and made my son laugh. He smiled and said, “Hey buddy, want to take this thing apart with me?”

When this began, we still lived in a large apartment in the Mission; there was room for privacy the nights my boyfriend stayed over. It was awkward at first, but as the years passed we spent more time as a foursome — cooking, playing board games.

Twice a year we all traveled to my mother’s house in Ohio, along with my husband’s parents, spending two weeks in a flurry of card games, water balloon fights and lingering meals.

Then the owner of our apartment decided to sell and offered us an enormous sum of money to surrender our rent-controlled lease. In most places, that money could have bought us a house. In the Bay Area, it wasn’t even a down payment. The only place we could afford was half the size of our apartment. There wouldn’t be room for home offices, most of our furniture or my boyfriend.

At the new house, my beau built a platform so I could store the mattress beneath a raised office, but it never felt right. It wasn’t sexy to sleep with him under piles of papers and the glow of the computer screen saver.

One day when he and I were lying in the trundle bed staring up at a jumble of cords, he said, “Let’s talk about building you a studio.” But I didn’t have the money.

“We could scavenge what we need,” he said. “If we start by building a foundation, maybe it will come together even if we don’t see how it can work.”

The backyard was a mess of dirt, broken bottles and rusty metal when he began digging. He patiently began clearing it out. One day my husband donned work gloves and jumped in, too. When we ran out of scavenged materials, my husband generously purchased supplies.

Months of Sundays passed to the synchronized beat of hammers and the sound of music and laughter as the framing was built. My husband taught me how to use the nail gun. My boyfriend took pictures as I nailed on the avocado-green siding. There’s a selfie of the three of us grinning from behind our dust masks, covered with flecks of fiberglass on the day we stuffed insulation into the walls.

Those two men painstakingly installed layers of drywall, reaching their long arms to the ceiling over and over. Before they hung the last piece, I hid gold dollar coins inside next to the studs and a photo of three generations of people who are related in ways there aren’t words for.

They left the beautiful thick beam in the ceiling exposed. After you walk into the studio and admire the golden light and the warm oak floors, that exposed beam catches your eye. It’s the through line, reminding me of our love for our son.

We wanted this child to grow up in a happy household. That beam was strong enough to convince us all to hold onto the vision. It’s like a dream I have had countless times in which I discover a room in my house that I didn’t know was there.

That’s our life now. We are building a family without a blueprint.

Sherry Richert Belul, who lives in San Francisco, is the author of “Say it Now: 33 Creative Ways to Say I Love You to the Most Important People in Your Life,” due out in May.

Cough Drop The Beat posted:

I've probably said this before, but it's hard enough for me to keep up with a single person and her needs while dating and such. How in the heck are these poly weirdos able to juggle multiple relationships like they're min-maxing their sex RPG stats?

Bruceski posted:

I have known people who have wonderful poly relationships, but man when those things go bad they go REALLY bad.

Dazerbeams posted:

I believe the trick to a good poly relationship is to keep it a deep dark secret. The magical spell is broken if the truth is ever shared, and then the whole thing bursts into flames.

Edit: You're talking about an article, and the husband was building a man shed for himself while the boyfriend moved into the main house. The built the shed together while the wife watched proudly.

quote:

So it was my birthday couple months ago. Had a party. Got some gifts. My friend “Mandy” for me a “super cute bikini”. I liked it. Said thanks. She had ripped the tags off but whatever.

Anyway. Went to the community pool with my roommate. Wore bikini. Got in the water. Roommate immediately is like uhm girl.... I look and see that this bikini is now kinda see thru.

Haha good joke Mandy.

Anyway, Mandy invited me over to her place to hang out with her and her bf and a few others. Most leave and we’re still hanging out. I’m like hey, what if we get in your hot tub? I go change after them. And meet her bf in the hot tub she’s getting new drinks. I hop in. Immediately, he’s looking at my chest. I pretend I don’t notice and just make small talk. She comes out a few min after. And just looks in shock. Eventually gets in. “Uhh is that the one I bought?” Yeah I love it. I wear it everywhere. Make up some stuff about how I wore it to the beach, some party with lots of guys, etc. and she’s just like “oh”.

We’re in the tub for 20-30. Eventually get out and change. She approached me after and was like. “Uhm I’m sorry thought you’d notice. But it goes kinda see thru”. I’m like yeah I know why’d you buy me a ducking see thru bathing suit? “She’s like it’s a joke. Wait you knew? So you just spent last 30’ flashing my bf on purpose?” I reply I’m just wearing my birthday gift from her.

Anyway. Aita?

Wizzanthos posted:

The good ol cuck shack

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/07/style/modern-love-when-a-boyfriend-joins-the-marriage.html

Cough Drop The Beat posted:

I've probably said this before, but it's hard enough for me to keep up with a single person and her needs while dating and such. How in the heck are these poly weirdos able to juggle multiple relationships like they're min-maxing their sex RPG stats?

QuarkJets posted:

Aita for wearing the “joke” bikini my friend got me?

Smirking_Serpent posted:

when you and your wife's bf finish the cuck shack and level up in carpentry

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KN7UboYau_k

Cough Drop The Beat posted:

Can I be the archer in this polycule? You can be the thief.