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I was paid to be a fake customer at a dying mall. Something strange is happening in there.
So I’ve been on a downward spiral for a while now. A disaster several years in the making. I guess it really started the weekend right after I’d graduated college. I was at a buffalo wild wings, watching some fights with some friends and decided to cook up a harmless little parlay. Now, I’d never gambled on anything before and only had a vague understanding of how it worked. But I young, dumb, probably about five or six drinks deep and the world just seemed so open and rife with possibilities. I ended up turning $15 into over $200 that night. An insignificant amount in the grand scheme of things, but that didn’t stop it from feeling really damn good. A bit too good for it to be healthy. I never reached that high ever again. Even after hitting crazy bets that paid out fifty to sixty times more, it just never felt the same. Which is really where my issues stemmed from. My dumb ass just kept trying to chase it. As much as I’m sure you’d all love to hear it, I’m not gonna go into a detailed timeline of my misery. Just know that it was bad. Probably worse than you’re imagining right now. Bridges burned, legal trouble, having to avoid calls from very persistent debt collectors. The works. The only reason I’ve been able to somewhat keep my head above water for so long was due to my job. It was one of those positions that paid you a lot to sit around in an office and update a spreadsheet every now and then. Maybe an hour of real work a day. I was lucky to land it, even luckier to hang onto it for as long as I did. So when the consultants were hired and the “fat” started being trimmed, I really had no right to be as shocked as I was when management cornered me, laid down the hammer. I did end up with a pretty decent severance. One that I actually managed to triple the following week, betting on golf of all things. Of course I should’ve stopped right there and updated my LinkedIn, polished off my suit, signed up for some networking events. But no, that wasn’t going to work for me. In my head, no work meant more time to learn how to become a more better gambler. Every night was spent diving into statistics, deep analytics, line movements, fucking sports psychology. What’s it called when you think you know a lot, but you really don’t know shit? The Freddy Krueger effect? Something like that? Things were going alright for a while. Not great but I was winning just enough that I was able to stomach it all. But then one night I was completely coked out and decided to place a very large, very stupid bet on a certain boxing match. It flopped hard. Then in my desperation to recoup something, I cooked up another longshot parlay on some fights the following weekend. And I’m sure you can guess what happened. When I was laid off four months ago, I had around $45k liquid savings and about $35k in debts. Across all my accounts now, I’m down to just $27.50. As for debts, I don’t even know. I don’t want to look. My cards are all maxed, my credit is shot, I can’t talk to my family anymore, my friends are no longer my friends and every other day there’s scary-looking dudes who look like they enjoy breaking finger standing outside of my apartment building. Sometimes they manage to make it in and knock furiously at my door. When that happens, I just stay silent, pretend like I’m not there. By the time I finally came to my senses and began applying for jobs again, I’d already dug a cavern for myself that was going to take some Herculean effort to climb out of. I did manage to get some interviews but never made it to any second rounds. Maybe I was coming off as too strung out. Side tangent—don’t you hate it when they ask about gaps in your employment? It’s like c’mon guy, who actually gives a fuck? A few days ago, the collectors actually tried physically breaking down my door. Got real close as well until one of my neighbors—this old military type, came out and threatened to shoot their kneecaps off if they didn’t skedaddle. I got lucky there. I can’t bank on getting lucky again. Which leads me to last night. I was drunk off some bottom shelf vodka and decided to try a more shameful and unorthodox method of procuring funds. That method being using AI generated sob stories to e-beg on reddit. Yeah, look, I was desperate, wasn’t thinking straight. I know. Of course, I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to get out of it. Certainly not enough to put even a tiny dent in the total debt, but maybe just enough to get the collectors off my back. For a while. And what could I really I lose from trying? I still had the wherewithal to at least edit out most of the ChatGPT speak in the posts before copying and pasting them to as many relevant subreddits as possible. Predictably, I got called out almost immediately, getting blocked from one community after another. But just when I was ready to give it up, somebody shot me a message. I’ll paste it below. Hey there, my name is Scott. I saw your post in ___. That really sucks man. Really, it does. I’ve been there and I think I can help. Now I’m not just going to offer you money straight up, but I can give you a quick and reasonably trouble-free way to get some. Nothing weird or illegal or sexual, so don’t worry about that. I have a friend who’s head of a property group that owns a mall. You said you live in ___ right? The mall’s located a little outside city limits so it shouldn’t be too far of a drive. In any case, you’ll be compensated for fuel. So here’s the deal. You see, the mall’s not doing too well. These days I think most malls aren’t, but this one’s doing particularly awful. Probably has something to do with the location. A bit too remote. But for whatever reason, this guy isn’t quite ready to let go of it. It’s not that he even really cares about it being profitable. He just doesn’t want it to get shut down and repurposed for something else. For whatever reason. You know how weird rich people can be. Have you ever heard about mystery shoppers? It’s not as eerie as it sounds. They’re just people who are hired to walk around malls and shopping centers, pretending to be customers. That’s basically what he’s recruiting for. To make it look like the place still has some juice left in it so that he can delay the inevitable for as long as he can. Again for what, I don’t know. You’ll be given a certain window of time in which you’re meant to walk around, doing your best to pretend like you actually have a reason for being there. Which would involve some shopping, looking around, having a meal in the food court. Etc. Once you enter the building, you’ll go up to the Starbucks on the second floor. Go up to the barista and tell her that you’re part of the “program” and she’ll give you $100 cash. You can then go ahead and spend that $100 on whatever you’d like over the course of the time you’re in there. Make sure you spend all of it. Don’t try and keep it. They’ll know. Once your time is up, you can simply leave. Maybe you’ll think you can get away with leaving early, but you can’t. They’ll know. In order to receive compensation, you’ll need to be in there for your entire allotted duration. Don’t try and hang around afterwards either. Just do your best to stick to the schedule. Compensation is as follows: $250 for each hour spent there, to be e-transferred immediately upon your departure. If my friend likes your performance, there will be opportunity for you to come back. Let me know if this sounds like something you’d be interested in and then I’ll send over some more details. Cheers. Okay, so clearly a joke, right? I’m being fucked with. But then I tried to think about what the punchline could’ve been here and couldn’t come up with anything. So I pivoted to the idea that maybe it was a scam. Or something even more nefarious than that. The setup tracked well enough. Lure people out to somewhere remote under the pretense that they’re about to make some good money. But not such good money that it seems like a glaring trap. $250 an hour for walking around a mall is just skirting that edge. In my opinion. But what the fuck are they planning to do once I get there? Mug me? They know I’m broke as shit and don’t have anything, so that can’t be it. So what else do I have that’s valuable? My organs? Maybe they’ll kidnap me and torture me to death on the dark web? I think the reason I’m typing this all out is because I’m hoping when I read it back, something’ll click. That I’ll be able to come to my senses and realize just how bad an idea this is. Because right now, against all logic, I’m genuinely considering it. ***** The collectors were pounding on my door again, for about twenty minutes straight this time. It got intense enough that I really thought they were going to have another go at breaking it down. But they didn’t. Lucky me. I’ve thought about spending less time here, so that if they ever do storm in, I won’t have to make a break for the fire exit. But I don’t know where I’d go. Maybe the library or the gym. Though if it ever comes to a point where I’m having to do all that, it’s basically already over for me. That’s no way to live. Trying to weigh everything now. Do I have anything to lose besides my life? Could things get worse than they are right now? One of the people I owe money to is this guy named Renzo. I met him. at a bar while I was watching Canelo vs Crawford card. What was that, like nine months ago? Jesus. So anyways I met this guy there and I was blitzed out of my head and told him very confidently to bet the house on Crawford. He seemed to like the cut of my jib so he went ahead and did so. Not quite the house, but a pretty fat stack. I made him some good money that night. Made some good money myself. Then we just drank and drank until things got hazy and the only other thing I really remember before waking up in his apartment the next morning (not what you think) was my face being pressed down into cold concrete. My clothes were still on, phone and wallet still in my pockets and I was slumped over on this couch with one side of my face stinging so bad it felt like something was pulsating beneath it. Looking at myself using the camera on my phone, I could see that half of my face was red and swollen, scratches overlapping each other like a bloody lattice. Then Renzo comes into the living room saying he couldn’t believe what I did last night and how much of a dog I was. I didn’t know what he was referring to and I still don’t. I never asked. So that’s how I met the guy. I’d later find out that he traffics a lot of cocaine over the border and does a lot of it himself. And that there’s a small jar sitting next to his television containing several shriveled, dried-up human ears that he claims used to belong to the members of some outlaw gang in the old west. I’m sure a reasonable person would’ve considered these things very carefully and concluded that they might be better off keeping their distance. But not me. In fact, I did the worst thing anybody could’ve possibly done. I ended up borrowing some money from him. Only around $3k. Maybe not a lot to some of you, but when you’re dealing with this guy, it’s still $3k too much. To be fair though, he was the one that had first offered it up, told me to throw it on whatever I thought might get me some coin. And if I won, we could share the profits. I guess he was under the impression that I was some sort of master sports bettor and that I knew what the fuck I was doing. I should’ve asked him what would happen if I lost it all before accepting it. And I did lose it. All of it. Couldn’t pay him back even a cent. I didn’t hide it from him, just told him the facts straight and clear. To which he’d smiled, told me it was alright. That I had a week to pay him back. That week turned into a month. Then two months. I started avoiding him. Wasn’t picking up his calls, being very careful to scan my surroundings for any sign of him whenever I was out. Eventually I guess he snapped and sent his goons after me, and now here we are. The reason I bring Renzo up is because he’s the most pressing issue in my life right now. The guy’s clearly not going away and if I don’t placate him soon, something very bad is going to happen. Something I don’t think I’ll be able to run from. I just gave him a call, apologized for ducking him and then asked him plainly how much money I’d need to give him at this point to square everything up, for him to call off his goons and leave me be. He told me $10k. And if I didn’t give it to him by Tuesday next week, he’d come up to my apartment himself and blast the door off its hinges. And that I could try leaving the city or getting the police involved but that it wouldn’t matter because eventually he would get me. And once he did, he’d skin me alive before tossing me into a vat of boiling oil. I told him okay, to meet me at a bar next Tuesday at noon and that I’d have the money. Then I hung up. Now I’m really panicking. I mean, I doubt the guy has access to a vat of boiling oil large enough to toss a body into, but I kind of believe him about the skinning alive part. $10k divided by $250 is 40 hours. I have about 170 hours before I have to meet him. I just messaged Scott back, telling him I was very much interested in the mall thing. Let’s see what he says. ***** It didn’t take long for Scott to get back to me. He said he was glad to hear it, then asked when I could start. I told him immediately. Then I asked him how many hours he could get me before Tuesday. He told me he could maybe swing thirty-five. I told him I really needed forty and was there any way we could make that happen. He said no, thirty-five was a hard limit, but that he could probably vouch for me and get my rate up to $265 an hour. Then I tried pushing for $285, claiming that’d be the minimum I’d need in order to stave off eviction. Basically trying to guilt him into it. It was a long back and forth, but eventually we were able to come to a mutual agreement. He then sent me an address and told me to be there from exactly two to nine tomorrow. I told him I appreciated it and sent him the details he’d asked for. Which was just my name, age, phone #, email. And that’s it. No address, work history, social security number, literally anything else. They didn’t even ask for a picture of my ID. Which was convenient, but also sketchy as fuck. I mean, I could’ve been a literal bot and how would he know? So many red flags that you could supply a parade with them. But it’s not like I really have the luxury of backing out at this point. Maybe I could try leaving town. But I don’t think I’d get too far. I don’t think it’d end well. I told him I’d be there. A few hours later, he sent me another message, via email this time. Hey __ it’s Scott. Please remember this before you go. It’s really important that you do your best to act like a real customer. From the moment you step inside to the moment you leave. If anybody comes up to you and asks you what you’re doing, tell them you’re shopping or going to see a movie or grabbing lunch or just killing some time. Have a response ready and deliver it clearly and confidently. Absolutely no acting like a deer in headlights. Just be calm. Be natural. Don’t think about it too much. And while you’re in there, don’t get too curious. You see or hear something weird, just ignore it. But if you ever feel like you’re in genuine danger, don’t hesitate to leave. They won’t pay you for the whole day, but you’re better off just leaving. Trust me. Should any incidents transpire, please let me know. Tell me exactly what happened and I’ll relay it to my friend. He likes to keep tabs on that sort of stuff. Also, one more thing I should’ve mentioned at the start. Please keep what you see in there to yourself. Try not to talk about it. But if you do, because I know you probably will, just make sure you leave out the specifics. I know it seems contradictory, but my friend would rather keep everything contained here. Good luck man. Rooting for you. So yeah. Not sure what to make of that, but I’m trying not to think about it. I thought about sending Scott another message, asking what kind of “danger” I could possibly expect. But I’ve decided not to question things too much. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you or something. It’s late now and I’m watching Breaking Bad for the fourth time, and I have about eight hours before I need to be at the mall. I really should get some sleep, make sure I’m mentally sharp for tomorrow. But my heart’s beating pretty fast and I get the sense that rest won’t come easy. I looked up the address, and it does seem to be a real, active place with real reviews. Nothing glaringly “off” about it other than the location. It’s about a forty-five minute drive from my place and there’s literally nothing around it, apart from what appears to be a few abandoned strip malls and apartment complexes. I think I have just enough left in my account to fill up my tank with just enough gas to get me there and back. Then that’s it. So if this does turn out to be some stupid joke, then I’m really screwed tight. I’m done for. But I’ll be screwed tight if I show up or not. And even if it is a trap and I show up and immediately get shot in the head or get kidnapped and tortured, well, at least that means I won’t have to deal with a lot of annoying shit in the future. Framing it that way, it really is a win-win-win and I’m starting to feel better about it all. ***** I’m sitting in my car right now and I’m feeling oddly mellow, more than I have in a long time. Could be a defense mechanism, my psyche trying to brace me for the unknown. Could also be the vodka Red Bull concoction I’ve just finished chugging. The parking lot here is larger than I’d expected and about a fifth of the way full. Which is surprising to me, given the location. It might be a stretch to call it the middle of nowhere but just based on a cursory glance, a case could be made for it. It’s about thirty minutes out of the city, smack dab between some grey industrial area and a long stretch of farmland. I cannot fathom what the rationale is for keeping this place going. It’s about ten before two. A lot of thoughts running through my head but I’m doing a good job of stamping most of them out. In another five minutes, I’ll head in. ***** It’s just after eight now and I’m sitting in the food court, sipping on the remnants of a milkshake. Not so mellow anymore. It’s been strange here. Real fucking bizarre. I’m still trying to process it. When I’d first entered, I’d followed Scott’s instructions and headed straight for the second floor. Looking around the place, it seemed typical enough. There was the usual fare: H&M, Foot locker, Bath & body works, Sephora, candy shops, stores selling cute but useless toys and knickknacks. Not quite bustling with activity anywhere, but also not empty enough for it to feel eerie. What I did immediately register was the sudden change in atmosphere. Like you were passing through some kind of barrier. The air inside the place felt different—subtly unpleasant in a way that’s hard to pinpoint. I spent a lot of time searching around for the Starbucks and eventually found it tucked away in some corner, at the end of a long string of dead and vacant storefronts. Almost like they’d made some concerted effort to hide it. Or maybe it was just a coincidence? Don’t want to get too conspiratorial yet. I walked in, finding the place completely empty save for the barista. I went up to her, offered a smile that wasn’t reciprocated. Not that I really cared. What did sort of freak me out was the look on her face. Like I was the scourge of the Earth or something. Like I’d just murdered ten puppies in front of her and then laughed about it. It was jarring enough that it completely derailed my train of thought and I forgot what I was supposed to say. After stumbling through several half-baked sentences, I was finally able to spit it out. “I’m uh, part of the program,” I told her. She sighed and actually rolled her eyes before asking me what I wanted to order. I just stared at her, no clue what to say, probably looking bewildered. I then repeated that I was part of the program. She shook her head, sighed again. “You’re supposed to buy something first,” she told me, keeping her voice real low while staring daggers at me. “They didn’t tell you?” I shook my head and told her no, they didn’t. “You’re supposed to buy something and hand me some cash and then I give you the change. Get it?” I remember starting to get light-headed here, thinking was this real? Was I dreaming? “So order something and then give me some cash” she went on. “Doesn’t matter how much. Just give me something.” I told her I’d have a black coffee and began digging through my wallet, surprised and relieved to find a crumpled $1 bill in there. I took it out, handed it to her. She snatched it quickly out of my hand and dumped it in the register then gave me back a small stack of crisp $10 bills. I counted them quickly. Ten total. I turned around, getting ready to leave but then she called me back, asking did I forget about something? She then went about making the coffee, her movements slow, almost labored. I noticed that she was walking with a limp. It took her a few minutes to finish up and then she held out the cup, giving me one last glare as I grabbed it from her. I’d never been more glad to be leaving a Starbucks. Like I said, really bizarre stuff. But as I’d come to find out, this was only the tip of the iceberg. I tried the coffee and it tasted burnt to hell, just God awful. So I tossed it, made my way over to one of those mall directory things. Still had a lot of time to kill, so I began perusing my options. After a while, I settled on heading over to the Chili’s, figuring that a margarita or two or three might make this all more tolerable. I went back down to the first floor, keeping my vision squared ahead, trying not to draw any attention to myself. And I noticed that most other people I saw seemed to be doing something similar. Holding these blank but focused expressions, moving in a straight line, as if walking on a tight rope. But then there were others who were standing perfectly still, grinning eerily, staring down anybody that walked by. Maybe trying to sell something, I don’t know. I just did my best to ignore them. Arriving at the Chili’s, I headed straight for the bar, surprised to find that most of the seats there were already occupied, though all the tables were completely empty. It was a group of mostly late twenties to middle-aged men. All completely silent and glaring at me malevolently, as if I were intruding on something sacred. Well, I thought. This was just the way it was going to be. I tried not to take it personally. I took a seat at the end of the bar, trying and failing to catch the bartender’s attention—a youngish guy with a big beard and pencil thin arms covered in tattoos. I think it took about five full minutes before he finally, reluctantly, looked my way. He started to walk towards me, moving real slow, as if trying to draw out the steps. “Yeah?” is all he said to me, his tone oozing with cold contempt. I told him that I’d have a margarita. Along with a Budweiser. For a while he continued to stare at me, his expression implying that I’d crossed some sort of line by asking to be served alcohol at a bar at a fucking Chili’s. After a while, he took a deep breath, walked over to the liquor shelf. I watched him as he dumped some tequila into a glass, threw a lime wedge in it, topped it off with a messy splash of sprite. He then walked back over, slamming the glass down in front of me, with some of it splashing onto my hands. He didn’t bother with the Budweiser, and I didn’t bother pressing him for it. More trouble than it was worth, I reckoned. I sat there and sipped my drink slowly, watching CNN on the television but not really paying much attention. In such a strange and hostile atmosphere, it was hard to relax. About a dozen people at the bar and not a single one of them had anything to say. Turn the televisions off and it would’ve been pin-drop silence in there. I finished the drink and felt like I needed one more to get a tolerable buzz going. Tried to get the bartender’s attention again, but he just straight up ignored me this time. Just kept facing ahead while leaning against the back shelf, taking swigs out of a Smirnoff bottle before putting it back. Lightly swaying on his feet. The guy was plastered. At a point, it starts to become a blow to your ego. And this was about that point. I started shouting at him. Something like “c’mon man, can a guy not get a fucking drink?” Maybe, probably, with a bit of an edge in my voice. But he still wouldn’t look at me. I looked down at the rest of the bar and suddenly nobody else was looking at me either. It’s like the entire room had suddenly and collectively agreed to pretend like I no longer existed. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” I inquired. “Nothing against you buddy,” somebody, I couldn’t see who, shouted back. “There’s just too many people in here right now.” I asked out loud what the hell that was supposed to mean. “It’s five o clock on a Tuesday,” the bartender spoke up, his tone implying that he was explaining something painfully obvious. “Think about it, yeah? How busy can a Chili’s get? On a Tuesday? At five o clock? Just think about it. So quit your whining and come back when it’s emptier.” I mean, how do you even to respond to that? Any further questions of mine fell on deaf ears and suddenly I was invisible again. I slapped one of the $10’s onto the counter and stood up, left the place. For the next few hours, I sort of just wandered around, in a bit of a daze, slightly light-headed. Still not fully convinced this wasn’t a dream. I went over to the food court, ordered some KFC. The guy working the counter there didn’t say a word to me, communicating via nothing but head nods. When I bit into the chicken, the skin was soggy and it had a rubber-like texture. Overcooked to absolute hell. After that, I went over to the Under Armor store, spent some time looking over some knock-off jackets (the labels read Undre Armore?) that nevertheless seemed comparable in quality to the real thing. I picked one of them up, along with a t-shirt. Surprisingly, the lady who worked there was actually pretty nice, actually put some effort into being an employee (or maybe she was a real employee?) I was down to just $20 at that point and headed over to the movie theater, which was completely empty save for a woman who was asleep behind the box office and some guy sweeping the floors. The screen that was supposed to be displaying what was playing was glitched, completely bugging out. So I went up to the guy, asked him what was on. He just shrugged, said that it could be anything. Then I asked how I was supposed to buy a ticket and he said all I needed to do was go up to the box office and put a $10 on the counter then I could go into any of the theaters. But to try and not wake Lindsey up since she gets real cranky when that happens and he didn’t want to deal with it. I parted ways with another bill then went into the closest theater, which was completely empty and playing the newest avatar movie. You know, the one with the fire. I sunk down into a seat in one of the middle rows and slowly began to zone out, snapping out of it only when I could feel somebody plopping down into the seat right next to me. A young woman, it looked like. I took a quick scan around the theater, confirming that it hadn’t suddenly filled up and we were the only two people in there. Maybe I should’ve been flattered, but I was more freaked out than anything else. She remained silent and so did I. Then about a half hour later, she simply stood up and walked off. I mean, how are you even supposed to react to that? I waited about another ten minutes before leaving the theater myself. Headed for the nearest washroom, took a piss, splashed my face with cold water while looking at myself in the mirror and breathing in deeply. Now the anxiety was starting to break through. The fear as well. After I’d finished drying myself, the stall closest to the wall opened up. I looked over, seeing the door hanging ajar but with nobody emerging from behind it. Through the gap at the bottom, I could see a pair of dirty white sneakers. I guess whoever they belonged to was just standing there, which freaked me out even more. I left quickly, looking over my shoulder to make sure that nobody tried following me out. And nobody did. There were a few more odd “occurrences” after this. I walked past an electronics store and this older dude came out from behind the counter with this big smile on his face and tried gesturing for me to come inside. “Cell phone, cell phone,” he kept saying, in this incomprehensible accent. “Fix cell phone.” I told him my cell phone didn’t need any fixing and his expression dropped like a stone in a lake. I watched him as he walked back into the store and rolled down the security gates and disappeared behind them. Then the lights went off inside. Then there was this lady walking around with a metal tray, claiming to be offering samples of “cinnamon rolls”. The cinnamon rolls in question being dollops of thick, grey, bubbling sludge. Safe to say, I passed on it. At some point, I had what I believe was a panic attack. Never had one before, but I think this was it. Tightness in the chest, an overwhelming sense of dread. I found a bench somewhere and took a seat. Pulled up some breathing exercises on YouTube and tried to replicate them. To my surprise, they worked pretty well. I went back to the food court, spent my last $10 on a large peanut butter milkshake from Baskin Robbins with a bunch of chocolate bullshit blended into it. And that’s where I am now. Just sitting here, waiting for nine to hit so I can get the fuck out of whatever the fuck this place is. But I’m feeling a bit better now, I think. Maybe it’s just the dopamine from all the sugar but I’m feeling alright. Enough that I think I’ll be able to get through this. Oh shit, there’s a guy walking towards me now He just sat down beside me. ***** The good news is, I’m back in my apartment, mostly unscathed. The not so good news is that as much I need the money, I’m not sure if I can go back to that place. So about the guy in the food court. He was young, maybe early twenties. Tall and skinny, brown hair cut into a short fade. Looked like a bog-standard college kid. He sat next to me, started making small talk, asking how my day had been, was the milkshake good, etc. I tried ignoring him at first, but after a while, I started to feel bad about it. He seemed nice enough. So we got to talking a bit. He told me his name was Daniel and that he used to be a copywriter but got laid off around 6 months ago and hasn’t been able to find anything since. So that’s why he was here. “So what about you?” he asked me. “Why are you here?” At that moment, I felt comfortable enough to tell him the truth. I told him about the gambling, the debts, the collectors. It felt nice and cathartic airing out my dirty laundry to a complete stranger so I just kept on going. I didn’t stop talking until my eyes drifted down and landed on the shoes he was wearing—these really worn, scuffed white sneakers. Okay, I thought. Could be a coincidence. And even if it was same guy from the bathroom, then so what? What was this scrawny kid going to do to me? But then I remembered Scott’s message, specifically his “instructions” about what was I supposed to do if somebody tried talking to me and the realization washed over me like a cold wave. I stood up abruptly, told him that I had to get going. He started protesting, telling me that I should stick around because he had something he wanted to show me. I told him I was tired and I really needed to go home. He started grinning, showing off blocky, chiclet teeth. Really stretching his lips as wide as they could go and then a bit wider than that. He asked me again what I was doing here. Shopping, I told him. Just shopping. He pointed out that I didn’t have any bags, so what could I have been shopping for? I started looking around at the floor before remembering that I’d left the Under Armor bag in the washroom. He started laughing in a way that was equal parts jovial and ominous. “You’re not here to shop, are you?” he asked me. “Then what? Why are you here?” I snuck a glance at my phone and saw eight fifty. I told him again that I really had to leave and then I turned around, started heading for the exit. To my dismay, I could hear his steps keeping pace behind me. Once I got to the doors, I checked the time again. Eight fifty-five. I turned and “Daniel” or whoever the fuck he was, was still there, standing about a half dozen feet away. “Don’t you have to go home?” he questioned, holding onto that grin. “Door’s right there. Why don’t you leave?” By now, I was checking my phone every few seconds, no longer making an attempt to hide it. He laughed again, said that if I wasn’t going home, I may as well come and see what he wants to show me. Now the panic had returned, and I really had to force myself to stay put for just a few more minutes. Minutes that seemed to be stretching into infinity. But I was sure as hell ready to sprint the second he tried making a move. I started wondering who I was more scared of. Renzo or this weird fucker right in front of me. As the seconds ticked down, he continued goading me to come with him, each request insinuating more of a threat than the last. The grin slowly fading, twisting into something more outwardly malicious. The moment that the clock hit nine, I tried to bolt. Though I didn’t get far. The bastard grabbed onto my collar, started dragging me back. I tried yanking myself away, but the fucking freak had this inexplicable iron grip. It was nothing but luck that I’d been wearing one of my old, cheap shirts, the fabric of which was already starting to tear. I jerked myself forward a few more times until it shredded off my back. Once free, I lunged ahead and pushed the door open, vaulting myself outside and tripping over my own feet, elbows planting hard onto the concrete. A searing pain jolted up my arms, and I think I heard something crack. But I wasn’t too worried about it in the moment, more concerned about making sure Daniel wasn’t about to drag me back inside. I scrambled to my feet and spun around to face the doors, bracing myself for, well, I don’t know what. Maybe for him to be charging towards me like a bull. Which he wasn’t. He remained inside, his face now pressed up against the glass, features pancaked into this odd, grotesque visage. Staring at me with wide, bulging eyes. I just stood there and stared back, convinced that the second I tried to move, he would do the same. I’m not sure how long this little stalemate of ours went on for, but I do remember my heart racing the entire time, beating faster and faster, approaching a point where I thought it might just explode. Eventually though, he did leave, detaching his face from the glass and spinning around and walking off as if this had all been a perfectly normal interaction. I doubled over, puking up some bile before taking several deep breaths. My head was spinning as I walked over to my car, cold and shirtless, watching the sun dip into the horizon. I wasn’t expecting to see that my tires had all been slashed. All four of them. My stomach dropped. Then it dropped even further once I looked around and saw that my car was now literally the only one in the entire lot. I tried calling for an Uber, but the drivers kept cancelling on me. I guess the place was too far out for it to be worth it. I just leaned on the hood of my car, mulling over my options. Feeling a bit numb. My apartment was about thirty-five miles away. Theoretically walkable. Maybe. But the bigger problem was, I really didn’t know the way. there was a good chance that if I tried walking, I’d end up in the next town over. Especially in the dark. Thankfully though, it was something that I didn’t have to risk. A few minutes later, a woman walked out of the mall. She looked to be in her thirties, dressed in jeans and a windbreaker. She seemed normal enough but my expectations were up in the air at that point, so I still regarded her with caution. She walked halfway across the lot before stopping, looking over at me. It seemed like she was about to say something but then hesitated, looking away for a second before looking back at me. She then called out, asked if I needed a ride. I told her I’d love one, but could she first prove to me that she wasn’t with the maniac that I’d just escaped from. She said she wasn’t with him, but that she didn’t know how she was supposed to prove that to me. And that she wasn’t going to wait around. So, if I wanted a ride, I should just risk it. I shivered. It was starting to get cold out. She didn’t question why I was shirtless. I asked her where her car was. She told me to follow her, but not before flashing the Glock attached to her hip. She said she didn’t think I was a threat but that she absolutely would not hesitate to shoot if I tried anything. I assured her that I wasn’t going to try anything. Turns out, she’d parked about a half mile away from the mall, on a dirt patch in the forest, well hidden from the road. I asked her why she’d parked all the way out there and not in the lot. She told me that the one time she had, her tires had gotten slashed. I then asked her how long she’s been “working” at the mall. She said she didn’t really want to talk about it. That she’d prefer it if we just sat in silence for the duration of the trip. So we did. Once we were back in the city, she dropped me off at a train station. I didn’t have any cash for a ticket, but it was pretty close to my apartment—only about a ten-minute walk away. I thanked her and hopped out. Before she took off, I’d asked her what her name was. She just shook her head, said it’d be pointless for me to know. Though she did offer me one piece of vague and ominous advice: “Be more careful in there.” When I got home, I drained the rest of the vodka in my fridge and passed out on my couch. When I woke up this morning, I checked my phone and saw a notification from my bank. I’d been e-transferred $3,000. I also had another email from Scott. Hey man, I heard you might’ve a rough first day, so I sent you a bit extra on top of the promised amount. Your hours are the same for today. 2 to 9 PM. And also man, just remember what I told you before. You’re a customer in there. So do your best to act like one. Maybe you thought that was just some bureaucratic nonsense but it wasn’t. Take this serious. Don’t treat it like a joke. For your own sake. It’s about half past ten AM right now and I’m still lying on the couch, sipping some clamato juice. Not really wanting to move. Especially not to go back to that place. I spent some time trying to calculate how far $3,000 could get me if I skipped town and concluded probably not very far. Then I tried conjuring up some other ways I might be able to cover the last $7,000, but who am I kidding? I really don’t want to go back there. But I know I’ll probably have to. submitted by /u/Mr_Outlaw_ to r/nosleep [link] [comments]
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r/nosleep |
Mr_Outlaw_ |
Apr 29, 2026 |
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Fiancés friend wants to wear an almost white dress to our wedding & is being condescending about it. WIBTA to withdraw the invite?
This is a repost sub. I’m not the Original OP (OOP) OOP: u/dumpsterfire_x Published on: r/TwoHotTakes Story is: ONGOING Story timeline Main Post: March 06, 2026 Update: March 07, 2026 Main Post March 06, 2026 Fiancés friend wants to wear an almost white dress to our wedding & is being condescending about it. WIBTA to withdraw the invite? White Dress Essentially, my fiancé has a friend from college that I’ve only met once. I was never a huge fan of her as she’s been snarky with me in the past, but he wanted to invite her and her boyfriend because her boyfriend is a fun guy & his friends still like her and I was fine with it. My fiancé and her aren’t close anymore, so we were loosely considering inviting them and decided it couldn’t hurt. I really didn’t think much of it until yesterday, when she posted a clothing haul on Instagram and pulled out this very almost-white gown and claimed she would be wearing it to a wedding in June…. Our wedding is in June. I replied to her post and said exactly the following: “I loveee that white set you showed, I might have to snag it myself. For the dress though, is that what you planned to wear to our wedding?” She replied “Yep.” Nothing else, just “yep”. I asked my bridal party what their thoughts were and every single person said this was outrageous. None of us are particularly conservative, but the cut feels a little bit much for a wedding, but I could easily overlook that in exchange for it not being so close to white. On camera especially it looked VERY white, so I am sure this will photograph white. I responded and asked if she would be able to find it in another color and she said “No, I will be wearing this or I just won’t come. It’s a yellow dress sweetie, calm down😘 “ I haven’t replied yet and my fiancé doesn’t know any of this is happening, but I am very strongly considering withdrawing their invite with my fiancés blessing, which I am sure I will have as we were on the fence about inviting them in the first place. It’s not even just the dress color, but the fact she is trying to call shots on our day and continues to be so snarky to me that rubs me the wrong way. WIBTA if we decide to cancel their invite? Photo of the dress attached, I can sort of see how it could be deemed yellow, but it still just seems way to close for my liking... OOP added some context in the comments Some context since a few people have asked: It’s not that she can’t afford anything else. She posts shopping hauls daily and I’ve seen tons of other really cute options that would’ve looked great on her for our wedding (and no, I don’t stalk her. We follow each other on Instagram and I scroll my feed and watch stories. I watch her content because I like a good shopping haul and she truly does pick out cute things, regardless of my feelings about her). I never expected she’d post ANYTHING about me or our wedding. If it were a situation where she told me she couldn’t afford anything else, she knows I’m the type of person to lend her something or help her get something nice that she’s comfortable in. I grew up dirt poor and am now very fortunate and I never want to see others be uncomfortable or feel less than. That said, it’s just not the case for her. She’s either wearing this out of spite or she just genuinely thinks it’s suitable for a black-tie wedding. Either way, I just didn’t think it was appropriate and we are spending a ton of money to host this event and while we want our guests to have a great time, it is OUR event. COMMENTS Majestic_Shoe5175 She clearly doesn’t like you. I would not feel bad at all telling her not to come. She’s acting like her not coming would be the biggest blow to your wedding and it’s kind of hilarious. Gotta love a B who thinks they are main character in everyone’s lives NTA I’d reply- Okay great babes- you can officially not worry about coming 🥰 OOP Oh yeah no, I knew she didn’t like me. She got shit faced first time I met her and called me “fucking stupid” during a girls night game we were playing. Everyone was just looking at her like Ever since I avoid her like the plague. She’s very “pick me”. She’s usually nice to your face and speaks poorly when you’re not around. That said, a lot of the group seems to still like hanging out with her on occasion and we will have so many people at our wedding that I figured I wouldn’t see her for longer than a few minutes, which is how she got her invite. Still caught between still having her and having our photographer photoshop the dress or just telling her not to come though. I know the mature and “right” thing to do is just uninvited her, but the joke could be legendary… and maybe teach her a lesson haha Update - next day March 07, 2026 UPDATE: Fiancés friend of wants to wear an almost white dress to our wedding It was heavily requested that I update my post from yesterday and truly who am I to disappoint. I got tons of feedback from people giving me ideas of how to spite her to people calling me a raging control freak for wanting people to follow a dress code for a wedding my fiancé and I am spending… a lot.. of money on for it to be a good experience for us AND all of our adorned guests. I know I don’t have to, but I do want to defend myself to a point. Skip ahead if you don’t care of course! While I can see the side of people having autonomy over their dress, I standby my thought that it is reasonable to have a standard of dress for your guests. Should a guest be unable to afford something suitable for the dress code, a majority of our guests know that they can contact me and we can work something out and/or help them get something they’re comfortable in that fits the vibe. Additionally, we were advised by our venue to enforce a dress code, which they said protects their reputation. Take that how you will. I’ve never been referred to as a control freak, but if not wanting a guest to wear a white-ish dress to my wedding makes me one, so be it. My upset comes more from a place of lack of respect for myself AND our event than the concern of being “upstaged”. Intentionally wearing something revealing and white to a wedding is a show of disrespect in my opinion. I have absolutely zero concerns about being upstaged regardless of what anyone wears. There was someone that said I needed a better designer if that was a concern, but I love my dress and that’s all that matters. I showed my fiancé the original post and he said “it’s like if someone wears muddy sneakers into your brand new Ferrari. You’re not worried about them getting more attention because they’re wearing muddy sneakers, you’re upset because they don’t respect your Ferrari AND are taking away from what makes it “nice”. In regard to me seeing her post in the first place, I follow the entire friend group on Instagram and followed her the day I met her and never unfollowed. Honestly, even though I don’t like HER, I do enjoy her shopping content. Obviously this ended that, but I did enjoy watching some of her content. I definitely do not go out of my way to “stalk” her as some have claimed. It showed up on my feed and I watched casually, I just got lucky to have the post that she mentioned our wedding in on my feed I guess, but we were told by someone else in the friend group that is friends with her that they planned to tell us what she was going to wear since it, again, showed up very white on camera. We would’ve found out about this eventually because she was pretty obvious about it. A complete stranger even commented on the post and said “You’re wearing a white gown to a wedding? That’s… a choice”. Lastly, A lot of people attacked me for not immediately alerting my fiance about the situation. For context, my fiancé works night shift and this began while he was at work. He came home from work at 6 AM and went straight to sleep. I didn’t want to interrupt him working (what he does is important and him being distracted can be dangerous for others and I didn’t want that) and I definitely didn’t want to prevent him from getting his sleep once he was home. I thought that this wasn’t a big enough deal to affect his job/health and that it could wait until tonight and honestly stand by that. Now for the real update: Friday night I showed him the messages and explained what happened. He said “absolutely not” and agreed that it was 1) not following the dress code expressed on our invitation and 2) way too white for comfort. He was beyond pissed at the way that she talked to me and said he’d handle it. I wanted to be involved, but as many of you pointed out, it could very easily be spun that I’m some crazy Bridezilla should I be the one to pull the plug on her coming. He called her on speaker, and she immediately asked if it was about me “making a big deal about a dress”. He said “no, it’s about ME making a big deal about the dress, you’re not wearing that to our wedding.” You could tell she was already escalated and went off about how she won’t allow anyone to say what she can and can’t put on her body. He stayed quiet while she ranted for at least a couple of minutes (took all I had in me to not chime in “calm downnn”) and waited for her to go silent. As soon as she did, he said something to the effect of “You are no longer invited.” And hung up. It only took about 10 minutes before we had someone reaching out to us asking for the full story. She told one of my fiancé’s friends that I freaked out about her “dressing like a whore” (mind you, I said NOTHING about the style to her and I haven’t said anything about her “looking like a whore” ANYWHERE, including here on Reddit, the post blew up and she may have seen it at some point, but I know I never said anything like that. A lot of commenters did though.) We explained our stance and that her behavior surrounding everything was unacceptable and we did not want problems on our big day and everyone seemed to just let it go. People that know her are still reaching out and probably will continue to as she makes her rounds freaking out to people. I wanted to see if she was going to blast us on social media, but we both have been blocked, which is fine honestly. All in all, I stand by the fact that having a dress code at a wedding is fine. She is no longer coming. No word on if her boyfriend is coming but I suspect not. I plan to just move on and alert security that she is not to be let in. Thankfully we will have security AND a day of coordinator to hide behind should she try to pull anything crazy since she does know the venue and date. If anything crazy happens, I’ll update in June lol. If you come across an Instagram Reel or TikTok of a girl upset that she was unvited to a wedding because of her dress choice, just know that it could be my wedding and the dress was only part of it lol. Thanks to everyone for the helpful advice! COMMENTS god_of_chilis LOOOOOOOVE your fiancé’s support and the way he said it’s HIM** making a big deal about it. That was my favorite part 🤭 but also good on you for standing your ground! OOP My jaw dropped when he said that honestly. It was such a smooth response LOL th987 Advised by the venue to have a dress code to preserve their reputation? Never heard that excuse at a private event at a rented venue. And you might have saved a bunch of drama simply by telling her, Oh, I guess you don’t know. It’s considered incredibly rude for anyone but the bride to wear white to a wedding. I’d hate for you to be embarrassed by not knowing. OOP It’s a club that has a dress code for its members as a standard. They don’t enforce it for weddings, but they “strongly advised” that we have a dress code and we are junior members that don’t want to rock the boat so we obliged. It’s an upscale event so it feels like it’s acceptable to have a dress code. TheWitchOfTheGlen Whoever is attacking you for this is foolish. Of course you have every right to be angry about wearing white to your wedding!! Reddit can be so weird sometimes. OOP Yeah even here I am getting people calling me crazy. It doesn’t feel crazy to me at all and I have my future spouse and friends backing me which I’m grateful for, but I feel bad for anyone that doesn’t have my support system that comes here for advise. Some people here are really out of touch imo. That said, it IS the internet so I get it lol This is a repost sub. I’m not the Original OP (OOP) Please remember to follow the subreddit rules, especially the ones about brigading. Let’s aim for a respectful and friendly discussion for everyone involved. submitted by /u/BigONerd to r/BORUpdates [link] [comments]
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r/BORUpdates |
BigONerd |
Mar 8, 2026 |
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My boyfriend (31M) thinks it’s ok to tell me what to wear (31F) and he doesn’t understand it’s upsetting
I am not The OOP, OOP is u/xmzjKakakdkdks My boyfriend (31M) thinks it’s ok to tell me what to wear (31F) and he doesn’t understand it’s upsetting. TRIGGER WARNING: controlling behavior, objectification Original Post June 18, 2020 We’ve been together 6 years. Over the past couple years, my clothing has become more and more of an issue. I’m not a girly girl. I don’t put on a full face of makeup every day. My style is generally more casual. With that said, I am by no means a slob. I almost always have my nails done. I wear a lot of denim in different shades and cuts, fitted leggings, tees, tanks, and sneakers. I have a lot of cute flats too. I’m not much for heels though - just on special occasions. On an average day, I’ll do a quick simple down hairstyle or sometimes (less often) a ponytail. I’ll usually just do some eyeliner and a tinted moisturizer. If we are going out on the weekend, I’ll do a full face of makeup (the whole shebang). My boyfriend grew up with a mom and grandma that get dolled up to the 9s just to go to Target. They live for name brands, constantly talk about shopping, and are ALWAYS done up. I did not - my mom ran to the store in jeans and a T-shirt. It was normal. I’ve tried explaining to him that I’m simply not that person, but he doesn’t seem to get it. He says I’m not fashionable. So, I did my best and ordered an entire closet full of clothing based on things HE likes. My entire closet is now extremely tight, fitted short dresses, short skirts, and almost all crop tops. I’m a conservative dresser. So, wearing this stuff is pretty uncomfortable for me, and not stuff I’d every really buy on my own for myself. Frankly, I don’t want to leave the house every single day with my stomach and belly button showing at 31 years old. I’m not 15. (I’m in good shape but that’s not the point). He thinks he can pick my outfits. Literally at this point, any time we are heading out, he goes to my closet and picks out my clothes. If I say anything about not wanting to wear something (I.e. - I feel bloated today, really would rather not wear a crop top) he gets immediately upset. There have even been a couple times when it was really cold and I told him I didn’t want to wear shorts and a crop top BECAUSE I WAS COLD - and he got upset saying it wasn’t cold. He says I always make an excuse not wear stuff he wants me to wear. I guess from his perspective it seems that way, but he doesn’t understand that he wants me to dress in a way that is totally foreign and not natural to me. A while back, I wanted to go to my aunts house for a BBQ and he insisted I wear a VERY tight and short dress. I told him my family is conservative and that it was not appropriate to wear. He flipped out and it turned into a huge argument. I have tried over and over to explain this to him, but he just keeps saying that how I dress matters to him and that it’s my fault for being closed minded, for not listening to him, and that I have a confidence issue. I don’t know what to do. I have also tried telling him that he’s hurting my feelings and making me feel unattractive. Any suggestions? TL;dr Boyfriend wants to tell me what to wear and I don’t know how to deal with it. TOP COMMENTS StarStriker3 Jesus, this is insanely weird and controlling behavior. You’re not a Barbie doll, he doesn’t get to pick your outfits for you. Please tell him in no uncertain terms that he is not allowed to pick your clothes and that you are going to wear what you like and what makes you feel comfortable and if he doesn’t like it, he can shove it or leave. ETA this sort of thing will only get worse the longer you put up with it and he seems to be testing how much you will let him control your life or if you’ll put your foot down. I’d leave him if I were you. ~ blackandwhitepaint You deal with it by leaving a controlling asshole. This shit is abusive behavior. He is a big boy; he understands your words. He knows how you feel. He does not care. Because he does not love you. He just wants to own you. OOP added in the comments I guess I always tell myself “maybe it’s me...maybe other guys do this too?” At times I feel so confused that I can’t tell whether what’s happening is really a problem, or whether I’m just overreacting. This thread is...a wake up call. Update - rareddit June 28, 2020 (10 days later) After continued arguing, I finally moved out of the apartment about a week ago because we decided that we needed space. He begged me to move back, but I said no. I agreed to do couples therapy along with my individual therapy. My therapist told me it would be normal to go back and forth and even repeatedly think about going back to him because of the psychological impact of everything I've dealt with for 6 years. She said to just keep working on it, and not feel the need to make a final decision before I'm emotionally ready. The first couples session we did was a disaster with him screaming the entire time and the therapist implying as much as she could that this was REALLY nearly impossible. We then decided to look for another therapist to continue "trying." All week, I've been calling/emailing different therapists trying to get an appointment. I finally found one with an open spot and asked my fiancé to send his insurance card. Of course, because it's now beyond clear that he doesn't give a crap, he delayed sending it to me for 2 days. Never once asked if he could help, or if I needed any help finding someone. Per usual, it's all on me. I was having a lot of emotional turmoil, obsessive thoughts, back and forth and asked him if he wanted to do something together tonight just to talk about what we are doing and where this is going. He told me he "really needed space to think on our relationship and meditate on it." I was upset, but I said fine. About an hour later, he accidentally dialed me. I picked up saying "hello," and just heard mumbling in the background. As I waited, thinking he called me to talk, I heard him and a woman's voice. The phone then hung up. I called back asking what that was all about. He seemed confused and said he was at his mom's house. Impossible - because I had just spoken to his mom a few minutes ago. I called him out, and he said "ok, my aunt stopped by the apartment." Again - makes no sense and totally contradicts what he said 2 second before. He then said "Ok, fine, I admit it - I invited xyz over. Let's talk about it later" He then hung up. Now, for the past 2 months, a female coworker of his has been calling him nonstop to ask for help with work stuff. It was always a little suspicious to me because he's only been at that office for a few months and this girl has worked there for years. Why does she need to come to him specifically, with every single question? He is not a supervisor or in any managerial role. She's also called him a few times to ask for relationship advice and mention how she "likes bad boys." Why? Does she not have other friends, cousins, brothers, sisters? She has to call my fiancé? Anyways, I just gave it the benefit of the doubt. But he would light up any time she came up in conversation and refer to her as his "work girlfriend." At the same time, he had a couple female friends from his last job. In the past, I saw some flirty texts but he insisted the two ladies were a lesbian couple and they were just friends. I didn't like it and told him it made me uncomfortable. After he got caught, he insisted its the lesbian couple over at our apartment, having dinner with him - that he paid for - while I've been sitting at my mom's house for 2 weeks agonizing about this relationship, trying to set up therapy, and feeling guilty for hurting him. Meanwhile he needs "time to himself" to "reflect on the relationship" aka hang out with two women who he knows I have a problem with due to past texts. I say all that long drawn out crap to say this - that is the last straw. All the screaming at me, yelling, gas lighting, manipulation, temper tantrums, punching walls, constant need for validation, minimizing, and abuse I've endured was topped off by this. I honestly don't know that he hasn't cheated on me with the coworker either. I am done. I am so done. I only need a date when I can go by and move all of my stuff out. Never again. tl;dr I am ending my relationship with my manipulative, narcissistic fiancé. FINAL COMMENTS Francesca_N_Furter He didn't call you by accident, he was trying to make you jealous. stephmuffin That was my thought. He didn’t “accidentally” call when another woman was speaking. If he was really cheating, he’d work a hell of a lot harder to cover his tracks. He wanted to hurt her and rub it in. OOP I definitely consider this a possibility, which makes it even sicker than it being an accident. Who knows. The funny thing is that I know any conversation about this will be about how I’m “controlling” and not letting him have female friends (bc I don’t think these women are interested in friendship). I now know he’s projecting, manipulating and gaslighting. ~ Chris33133 " I only need a date when I can go by and move all of my stuff out ..." When you go, take one or more friends with you to help. That will move things along quickly and help keep him under control. OOP I plan to go when he isn’t home. Hopefully, fingers crossed, there will be an opportunity tomorrow as he almost always has dinner plans with his mom on Sundays. My mom and sister will be going with me to speed up the process. Editors Note: OOP made a post 4 months later about a Tinder date, so she definitely left him THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7 submitted by /u/Direct-Caterpillar77 to r/BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]
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r/BestofRedditorUpdates |
Direct-Caterpillar77 |
Nov 23, 2025 |
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I (18 F) have apparently been dating my best friend (19 M) for an entire year but didn’t know until today. Need help asking him about it.
I am not The OOP, OOP is u/ThrowRA09876544435 (OOP has since deleted her account) I (18 F) have apparently been dating my best friend (19 M) for an entire year but didn’t know until today. Need help asking him about it. Trigger warning: sexism, emotional abuse, verbal abuse Originally posted to r/relationship_advice OriginalPost - since removed March 8, 2023 Original Post recovered with rareddit This is going to be such a “suffering from successful” post, but bear with me for a second. I’ve known him for 5 years, different classes and courses but same friend group. Over time, he has genuinely become one of the best people I know, and it’s only getting better everyday. I can’t lie and say he’s not my type; nerdy, charming, sweet, funny, flirty with the right amount of awkward. He comes pick me up from class. Plays hockey without being a douchebag to the skaters. And most importantly, gets treats for my cat. Multiple strangers have mistaken us for a couple, even close people like our friends, professors, and worst of all, my family. He’s kinda perfect, but I’ve never even thought of putting the moves on him, he’s never shown romantic interest in me, we’re friends, nothing more. Or that’s what I thought. Today, he was spending the afternoon at my dorm, something he started about a year now. We’re laying on my bed mindlessly watching sonic cartoons when he says (verbatim) “So, baby, where do you wanna go this friday?” Matter of fact, this is the first time I’ve been called baby by him, so that kinda shocked me. Instead of asking why, I froze and was just like “What’s happening friday?” He turns to me and KISSES ME (again, first time thing with us), hugs my waist and goes “Our 1 year anniversary, idiot. I’m making reservations.” At this point, I’m frozen. I genuinely don’t know what to say. I’m gobsmacked. The dude I thought was my best friend, who never even showed interest in the dating thing, is under the idea that we’ve been dating for a whole year. I’m silent while he continues hugging me and scrolling on his phone, racking my brain thinking about what to tell him when his phone starts ringing. It’s his mom, which he puts on speaker and she deadass goes “Hi. Are you still with your girlfriend?” Oh, so now his mom thinks we’re dating too?! He tells her yes, asks why she called. She asks for his help with private stuff I will not divulge here, he turns to me and goes “Sorry, I’ll be back in a bit, sweetheart.” I just nodded. I was just like “Alright, see you in a bit.” No questions, no screaming, just acceptance. He gets up to put on his sneakers and leans down to kiss me again, which I just accept at this point. It’s a nice kiss besides the fact that my mind is somewhere else. He leaves and I get a text from his coach “Tell (boyfriend’s name) to come tomorrow at 19, he’ll only listen if it’s you” Tf you mean only me?! You’re the responsible adult tasked with training these hockey players, why do you depend on me bringing him to you?! But that led me to a rabbit hole of finding out who knows we’re dating. Apparently, majority of the people I talk to think we’re dating, or if I’m being correct here, KNOW we’re dating, and just, have never mentioned it to me… I don’t think it’s a prank solely on the fact that his mom called me his girlfriend. They don’t have the closest relationship. She is a very traditional, conservative and religious korean woman. Always serious and does not play around. When she realized early on that her son did not agree with many of her opinions, she stopped caring for him to the fullest, only keeping it civil for the rest of the family and friends. There’s nothing he could’ve done to have her go along with something like this, especially when she wants him to marry young with a nice korean girl, which I’m not. Also, he just does not seem like the guy to play with people like this. He might be dumb and oblivious, but not horrible. I don’t know what to do now, I mean, he’s a great guy don’t get me wrong, and if the last 5 years are anything to go by, he would be (is?) a great boyfriend, maybe even in the future a husband. But, I’ve never looked at him that way, so I can’t say I love him. When this occurred, it was like the glass shattered and I saw how differently he looked at me, how he talked and acted, stuff that never changed since the beginning but for some reason I’ve never noticed. I can’t sit here and pretend I love him like that, I wasn’t thinking about him in that sense all this time. But, on the other side, I don’t want to hurt him. He clearly thinks we’ve been together for that long so he has to have strong feelings for me, and I don’t want to step on them and scar him like that. I can’t just keep dating him though, something that I’ve apparently been doing for a year. I could learn to love him eventually, it wouldn’t take much to be honest, but it wouldn’t be fair to him or me. In my defence, who dates someone and just does not ask them about it. If the roles were reverse and a year ago something happened where I was like “shit, I love him, this was probably a date, we’re probably dating right now” I would’ve confirmed with him or at the very least said something for the following year, not only at the 1 year mark. I just don’t know what to do. I’m scared and angry, disappointed in myself for not recognizing the situation sooner. Feel like I’m stuck between the sword and the wall. Last thing I want is to hurt him, but I also don’t want to lie to him. How should I go on about this with him? TLDR: My best friend believes we’ve been dating for a year, alongside our friends and families. He’s never ask me, so now I don’t know the best way to approach him about this. Please help. Update: Before you comment, I’ve sent a text for us to meet up and I somewhat already know what I’m gonna say to him. I’ll try and do an update post after the 48 hours pass. RELEVANT COMMENTS WishGullible5142 I can understand the not kissing, from a religious point of view. I can understand the take it slow from a purely Conservative dating standpoint. I can not on the other hand understand why you have no pet names for each other. Is anyone from Korea? How do you guys do stuff over there? Maybe it's a cultural thing and though a year was long enough to move the "relationship" along? How does he pinpoint the anniversary? Did any thing Change 1 year ago OP? OOP replied I’m white and he wasn’t born in korea, but his family still holds traditions even in a foreign country. There were no pet names, because there was no relationship, it was never even suggested nothing really changed a year ago worth noting, I went back to check on messages and Google photos, nothing important. I’ve already sent him a message to meet up after practice, he said yes, so I’ll have a talk with him soon Update - since removed March 11, 2023 update recovered with rareddit Turns out he’s just dumb and sad. Or maybe crazy and psychotic. I did give him way too much benefit of the doubt. I read a lot of comments and messages that were sent to me privately on what I should do. Big thank you to everyone, majority of you were nice and helpful. Also big sorry for the sweet lady wishing me a happy future marriage, not happening soon. And to the people saying it was fake, if I had created a good love story, I would’ve sold it to Netflix or HBOMax or Wattpad instead of being a loser and asking reddit for fake help. I brought it up to my psychiatrist, showed her the reddit post I made, a few of the messages I’ve received and she basically had the attitude of “Hey, remember that great guy, well he’s a piece of shit now, so let’s learn about moving on and not reminiscing on a broken friendship” which I think is the best way to go in about this. Now, tbh I don’t remember much because I wanted to cry from the moment he started talking. Also I was quiet and only spoke very little because I did not want to make a bigger scene than it already was. I just let him talk for a few hours and then dipped. Towards the end, he was shouting and unpredictable, people were looking and I just wanted to go home. I decided that we should meet up in a public space. Before his practice, I sent him a text and asked if he wanted to meet up at a coffee shop we both know. He called, said yes and “You sound serious, should I be worried?” to which I said “honestly, yes, you should” He told me to stop joking and then went on to his practice. Fast forward a couple hours, I’m sitting there and he comes in, sits in front of me and thanks me for the food I ordered for him. We start eating. I’m a nervous wreck and he realises, which led to him asking “Are you really ok, (My name)? You didn’t seem good a while ago, and from what you said, I’m actually worried now” So I lay it out on him. I ask him why he thinks we’re dating, why does so everyone else and what led to him thinking that. Now, he’s just quiet and I’m just looking at him not say anything. Stuff after this is a bit fuzzy because I just wanted to cry. This next shit came very out of the blue for me as well, it´s just fucking weird looking back on it. He said something like “I didn’t really think we could actually date if I asked you up front” to which I said “that’s how relationships usually work tho, you ask” to which led him on a tangent about women in general. Opinions that he shared with me and said to my eyes with no regret. What I saw in front of me was no longer my best friend of 5 years, it was a boy who grew up to be a man and to have a very damaging idea of women. Stuff that I could assign to immaturity, but he had nicer things to say when he was 14 than what he told me now. I just interrupted him and asked what led him to think about women this way, since he never let his family, most predominantly his mother (tbh I don’t think even the most conservative women in the world would say what he said, but his mother still has some not so nice beliefs about women) influence him into these antiquated ideas. He was quiet for a while and that did give me some pity, until he opened that mouth of his again “You know, there’s these podcasts.” That let me know everything I needed to. “Oh so you’re a Tate fanboy now?” He starts arguing and yelling that it’s not him but that they know what’s right and wrong, how things should be and to be honest, I’m not really listening to him at this point, I just want to get out of there and cry. I’m listening, but nothing is registering. Some of the milder things he started yelling are about women and our relationship with food and how we should have a limited amount, how we’re so vulnerable and emotional, ready to blame men for everything and how we start yelling at every minute inconvenience (which is funny in hindsight), how menstrual stuff was A HOAX and that I was no doubt lying when I couldn’t walk from my period pains because “I wanted his attention” and that “no girl can possibly feel a greater pain that a man” He also said that when we were talking about his course - something to do with car parts - it was not “cute” and “sweet” of me (let alone women in general) to act dumb and pretend I’m clueless, because that does not make me more appealing (I genuinely don’t fucking know how a car works, my fucking bad) I tell him that if this is all a big joke, it’s not funny. He interrupts me and talks about how he listens to these men but doesn’t tell anyone cuz he knows I and our friends wouldn’t agree, tells me I’m not a “perfect woman” (whatever that means) but that he would still like to date me but couldn’t tell me because I’d say no and “ruin his fantasy” hmmmm… Im crying now, and people are noticing, so I just want to get out of there immediately. I tell him (not verbatim, but along the lines) “You’re so fucking stupid, (Name)! You genuinely could’ve dated me, if only you had asked. You could’ve had everything but you started listening to opinions of guys who have nothing. How sad can you be to pull a stunt like this instead of asking like a normal person?” He starts yelling that I’m wrong and they know what is right, starting a whole rant that I don’t have the strength to listen to. I stand up, start walking and he grabs my arm. More people are staring. I tell him to let go and he only does when I threaten to call the police. I left telling him to never speak to me again. I am now home. I’ve blocked him on everything and told some friends what happened. They were all shocked by how he acted and what he said. One guy did tell me “He was always easy to influence tho”. I asked why they thought we were dating and they told me it was how we acted like a couple (I guess that one is on me) combined with the fact that HE TOLD THEM YES WHEN THEY ASKED and since the behavior checked out, they just never thought to talk about it with me. I’m not responding to any of them right now. To be honest, I’m moving cities in a few months with my family. I used to cry about it nonstop because I’d have to leave all my friends here, including him and that was the last thing I wanted. Now, I’m kinda glad I don’t have to worry about bumping into him. I just feel distraught, like, that was a nice friendship, it was a pillar of my childhood and now it’s just gone. He said and did some nasty things, even if it was in the span of a few hours. If up until moving he comes up to me personally or tries to pick me up from class, I’ll repeat that I do not want him in my life anymore. If push comes to shove, I’ll call the police, not that I’d think they’d do anything tho. I’m also sharing my location with both my older brother and father; yes it might be a bit “delusional” and not needed, but you never know. He was a great guy and we did have a good friendship up until he decided to view women as objects and date one without asking because “he deserves it” I just can’t stop crying. I really thought I knew him, and for him to be able to spew those words and opinions at me like that, stuff he’s always been against from what I remember, it was shocking. It’s only been a few hours but it’s already weird not having that constant text or call happening. I feel like it’s kinda empty but I don’t want someone like that next to me. The worst for me is that I see no change. He has no sisters and his mother does somewhat think that way as well, and so does his father. Maybe coach could help, but idk. I just feel “betrayed ???”, I guess. It feels stupid to say but it’s true. I mean, I get men like this every single day, every girl does. It goes from professors who know me to drivers who are seeing me for the first time. Comments vary from just telling me I’m pretty to more gruesome stuff, I’m used to it. I just never expected it to be someone so close to me, that I trusted. I don’t know when he started thinking like this but now it has me feeling all gross and dirty. If he thinks like this about me and never said it, I don’t even want to know what he thinks about our mutual trans friend, what his opinions are actually like when he’s always been nice and respectful to her. It does help me chuckle a bit that some of the things he said were just so textbook misogyny that it seems he learned them on a joker sigma instagram account. That is so stupid it’s kinda hilarious if you omit the part where he said rape is not a real problem. So, that is that. I thought I had a nice friend by my side, but guess not. Never trust a guy, even if you grew up with him, they’ll disappoint you eventually. EDIT: You know what, fuck this, some of you guys suck. I thought this was a subreddit to help and give advice and yet im still getting dm´s over this being fake and overall clowning me. Like, im sorry if i write in a weird way, but this shit did happen. Do you guys only believe women when they show up dead in the news? I know it sounds insane, it also did to me. But please mind your words, if you're not gonna say something helpful or nice, don't say anything at all. I'm already having a horrible time with all of this and to have reddit men up my dms saying i lied and discrediting me cuz its not possible he'd do that, shut up, please, im begging you. Should have never posted this here to begin with, might just delete it altogether since apparently men only know how to point and laugh at a woman's experience I am not The OOP submitted by /u/Direct-Caterpillar77 to r/BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]
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r/BestofRedditorUpdates |
Direct-Caterpillar77 |
Mar 18, 2023 |
United States
