Couple Stories

idk what I have done but he was earlier distanced and reply frequency decreases, yesterday we had conversation which he Waited me for a while and we had break. I asked him to give his final decision in the coming Thursday but I had already accepted it as a breakup.

i frustrated at his gay friend who is not interested in him according to my bf but he call late night because his gay friend was having bad time and made me wait.

I'm pissed and trying to move on but his memory pin me down from where I have started and now I hope he gets back and grow out relationship with me together.

After five years of marriage, at 29, I've hit a wall. I love my husband deeply, and I believe he loves me too, but there's a creeping doubt that's hard to shake off—sexual incompatibility...

It's like an elephant in the room, lurking silently while casting an awkward shadow over our relationship. Our chemistry was undeniable when we first met; we'd tumble into bed, laughter echoing around us. But lately, things have changed. Is it normal for passion to dwindle so dramatically with passage of time? Many couples navigate shifting dynamics over time, but our situation seems different—stuck, stagnant. I can't help but wonder if the spark is gone for good or if it's just buried under life's daily grind. I googled "sexual incompatibility in marriage" and stumbled upon countless forums filled with people sharing their stories—similar yet personal experiences adorned with intimate details and advice. It was both reassuring and worrying. "Sex is not the only important part of a marriage," they say, and sure, true; but intimacy feels foundational, doesn't it? It's that unexplainable bond, and when it's missing, it's like there's a hole in the fabric of our marriage. Now, conversations have shifted from "I want you" to "I care about you," which, while sweet, lacks the fervor it once did. Often, I find myself absorbed in blogs discussing topics like libido mismatch, emotional connection, and attachment styles. The jargon is daunting but sheds light on our predicament—my higher libido struggles against his lower desire; a classic case of desire discrepancy. I've tried discussing this with him but broaching the subject feels like dancing on a tightrope, precarious and tense. Is it too much to ask for mutual attraction in a partnership? Or am I being unrealistic in my expectations? It's hard to dismiss the nagging feeling that perhaps he's no longer sexually attracted to me, even though he insists otherwise.

The emotional side of me wants to believe him, but the factual observations paint a different picture. The intimacy we once shared feels like a memory fading away into the archives of our early days. In an article, I read that long-term relationships naturally evolve into comfortable cohabitation, where physical intimacy isn't the pinnacle of the relationship anymore. But shouldn't there be some semblance of desire still? I’m constantly battling with these cerebral narratives—my mind a restless, questioning space. We’re trying to rediscover that physical connection through couple’s activities, date nights, and the occasional weekend getaway. Still, the rhythmic path from date to full-on making out seems to be missing. Every intimacy expert lists "communication" as the pinnacle of resolving sexual disinterest, yet every attempt at initiating these conversations seems to erect another barrier between us. There’s this gap, sparse as it’s growing but for how long? And on the other side are murmurs of questions and whispers of longing. It’s common to hear about the "seven-year itch," yet, here it’s an early symptom; maybe it's a phase, but how long until it becomes chronic? People change, circumstances evolve, but is this sexual standstill a temporary halt or the new normal? Our marriage wasn't purely based on sex, but I won't deny the substantial role it played in keeping the relationship vibrant and lively.

Do I settle into this newfound normalcy of companionship void of fervor, or do I strive to rekindle the flame we had? That question begets more questions, not answers. I even came across a study emphasizing that many marriages survive and thrive on shared goals, emotional bonds, and friendship. I take solace in these sentiments, yet is surviving the same as thriving? We tick many 'marital compatibility' boxes: shared values, understanding, mutual respect; yet this one unchecked box feels glaringly deficient. Sometimes, I mull over solutions—professional counseling, self-help books, rekindling personal hobbies to divert the mind. Yet, nothing offers a concrete answer, just wisps of temporary relief. Should I accept this compatibility hiccup as part of our "till death do us part" package, or strive tirelessly for change? Every now and then, I drop suggestions of change like seeds, hoping they’ll take root in our reality. Still, the ground feels resistant, the air too dry for them to grow. In this scenario, is patience love's true test, or is proactive effort the remedy? It's a conundrum—two possible paths, but one uncertain outcome. In my quiet moments, I wonder, "Am I the only one who feels this disconnect? Or is it mutual silence extending beyond words?" Should we dive deeper into the exploration of non-sexual intimacy as an alternate course, preserving the essence of our relationship through shared dreams, laughter, and camaraderie? If this is the more conducive path to navigate, how do we begin? Despite the battle within, I know and feel there’s still genuine affection and a craving for a shared future....

I am lost, help me guys...

me and my boyfriend had a situation recently he joined University for studies and being busy with it I m happy for him but he is responding less and less idk if he loosing interest in me.

I was so paranoid that we had fight a day ago he was responding sluggishly in the fight that making me more conscious that he is loosing interest or spark is lost.

idk it's because of long distance or something else he also have few gay friends.

we use to share insta password but after the fight he did logged out n now don't even sees my text although we had chatted in a call but it was done by me n not him..

please help someone to understand am i being paranoid or I'm being reasonable enough to ask my boyfriend for some attention.

So about 3 weeks ago me and my friend and I decided to go to a pool hall well I was already in my pajama pants and a jacket (what I usually wear at night time) the pajama pants are like a extremly plush fuzzy material and the jacket was a super soft fleece I just simply enjoy being comfortable when im at home lol reason im going into detail about what I was wearing is because when we got too the pool hall everything was cool for a couple hours until my friend started talking smack to some guy well the guy pushes my friend and when he did I jumped between them and when I did my pool stick fell out of my hands and was laying on the ground. Well when I stepped between them I just so happened to be standing over the pool stick and 2 guys picked the pool stick up at the same time and racked yanked up hitting me dead in the middle of my balls I remember feeling the stick literally splitting my balls in half I remember looking down and seeing the fuzzy pants and the outline of my balls around the stick and the guy that was behind me rubbed my shoulder and said "you got a nice soft jacket on oh and your pants look soft too" and when he said that he reached down and twisted my dick while the pool stick was still between my legs i remember moaning extremly loud and grunting while he twisted and squeezed also at the same time yanking the pool stick up higher into my balls he finally let go and I dropped too my knees instantly I was extremly sore for about 3 days and my girl friend is extremly sexual and is still asking why I didnt wanna have sex for that week and she loves my pants and jacket i really dont know how too explain this to her

I fucked up, and there is no polite or delicate way to phrase that, so I shall simply admit it outright: I cheated on my boyfriend, the man who has been nothing but loyal, generous, and patient with me for the past two years, the man who has shown me a stability I honestly never believed I deserved. I am twenty-five, he is thirty-two, and somehow we made it work, despite our differences in age, character, and temperament. Our life together is not some pathetic fantasy, it is real, concrete: we share mornings, dinners, moments of silence, the dull routines that, ironically, are the foundations of happiness. And yet, in one miserable night, soaked with alcohol, foolish laughter, and the kind of reckless bravado that makes people believe they are untouchable, I allowed myself to betray him. I was drunk, yes, but that excuse is thin, pathetic, barely a fig leaf for my own conscious decision to let another man touch me, kiss me, fuck me. I woke up the next day with the stench of someone else’s body clinging to mine, with a splitting headache and a gut full of disgust. Have you ever stared at yourself in the mirror and seen not your face but only the lies you will soon have to tell? That was me. My first thought was not even about what I had done, but about how I could possibly pretend it had never happened, and isn’t that the most revolting detail of all? That my instinct was to hide, to bury the truth, to spit on his trust while smiling at him over morning coffee.

Now I am stuck in this vile space between confession and concealment, and neither path seems bearable. To confess would be to throw a grenade into our shared life, to obliterate all the good moments, to shatter his sense of safety, to perhaps lose the one person who has ever truly made me feel like I was worth more than the sum of my reckless impulses. But to hide it? To swallow this filth and act as though nothing occurred? That would mean rotting from within, keeping a secret that gnaws at every embrace, every kiss, every “I love you.” And which is worse? To kill something with blunt force or to poison it slowly? I keep replaying the night, trying to find some crack in the memory where I might have stopped myself, where I might have said no, but instead I only see my drunk, stupid grin and the rush of feeling desired by someone new, someone meaningless. Do you know that absurd thrill, that tiny, stupid surge of ego when a stranger wants you? That was all it took for me to throw away my dignity. And for what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I gained no satisfaction, no joy, no sense of fulfillment—only guilt that drips like acid through every second I spend with him now. He looks at me with those calm, patient eyes, and I want to scream, to confess, to throw myself at his feet, yet I choke on cowardice. It is ridiculous, but even in my own shame, I feel a twisted sort of hope, as if perhaps this mistake might shock me awake, force me to grow up, to stop treating life like some chaotic experiment. Maybe the very act of ruining something reminds you how precious it actually is.

So what do I do, really? Do I unload this shitstorm into his lap, admit everything, beg for forgiveness, knowing full well he might walk out and never look back? Or do I take this filthy secret to my grave, let it burn me in private, and in return keep the life we built intact? I am not some saint, clearly, but neither do I believe I am a monster, and maybe that’s why I cling to the thought that redemption might still be possible. I cannot decide if honesty here is noble or selfish, because confessing could easily be seen as nothing more than trying to ease my own conscience while dumping the pain onto him. Hiding it could be argued as protecting him from useless suffering, yet is it not arrogant to assume I have the right to make that choice for him? Fuck, it is a twisted dilemma, one that I suspect many would simplify with “just tell him” or “just shut up,” but reality is never that neat. Life is messy, human beings are messy, and love—even the strongest, most mature love—has cracks that appear when you least expect them. Despite everything, I still believe in us, still believe that we can survive my stupidity, though I am uncertain of the method. Maybe this betrayal is not the end but the grotesque wake-up call I needed to finally stop taking him, and myself, for granted. Perhaps the future is not destroyed but simply altered, and maybe, just maybe, there is a chance to rebuild something stronger on the ruins of my failure. Or am I just lying to myself to soften the blow? Would you, in my place, confess and risk it all, or would you stay silent and fight like hell to make every future moment worth the guilt? 🤷‍♂️

hey everyone, i'm feeling all kinds of confused right now and i just want to let it all out 😅 so here goes... i'm 27 and have been dating this amazing guy for about 3 months, everything's been going pretty good, he's really nice and we get along super well. but then we decided to spice things up a bit and had a threesome with my best friend, who happens to be a girl. and now i find myself questioning everything about myself. like, am i actually bisexual? is this just a phase or perhaps something more? 😕 i keep wondering if these feelings are genuine or if they're just intensified because of the newness of the relationship and the experience itself. it's been a real mind trip, honestly.

so i’ve been replaying the whole scenario in my head, like every single detail, trying to figure out what i really felt and why. i realized that during the whole thing, i was just as into her as i was into him, and it was a strange realization to have. it didn't freak me out or anything (thank goodness), but now i'm left unsure about my feelings and it's a bit overwhelming. i mean, i’ve never had any kind of romantic or sexual attraction to women before this, or at least i thought i didn't 😕 but maybe it just took the right circumstances for me to feel this way; like maybe being with someone i trust, my best friend, gave me the freedom to explore these feelings without fear or judgment. idk, i kind of feel guilty about it all too, like i'm betraying my boyfriend or something, even though he's been totally cool with it. the question really is, what does this mean for me? am i just discovering something new about myself or is it a temporary thing? 🤔

i guess the cool thing is, i’m not freaking out about it or anything, more like curious and hopeful about the future. like, maybe it's something that could add an exciting new layer to my life and relationships? who knows! and my best friend and i have been super open with each other about everything, which has helped a lot. we’ve had so many deep convos since, and she's been really understanding and supportive 💕 the whole thing's actually brought us closer, so at least there’s that silver lining. but this leads to another question in my mind, like how will this affect my current relationship with my bf? i mean, i just don’t want to complicate things or hurt anyone involved. maybe it's all up in my head and i'm making it a bigger deal than it is, who knows. anyway, i’m just aiming to sort through these feelings and see where they lead me, no rush, just taking things one day at a time. if anyone's been through something similar, i’d definitely love to hear from you! 🤗 thanks for letting me get this off my chest!

I'm with this girl. I love her, she loves me, no doubt. We're both girls, btw. But sometimes, I feel a little desperate. I do my best to please her. Making the best choices for her, making her happy.

Doing her kinks, notably. I don't force myself, but that's mainly because she likes that and make her happy. But I don't know why, I'm always under the impression that something goes wrong when I want something, want to do something my way. It doesn't work, or doesn't happen. Must be my fault, I guess. And yet... yesterday we did something that should've lead to a big climax for me. That was something like sexting, online. There is some times when I can write her long wall of texts to make her happy. And at this moment, I realized she was doing something else, was playing to something while writing to me, with long pauses between our messages, while I was waiting for her, while I was thinking we were sharing an intimate moment. It made me so sad. She swore to pay more attention to my self-wellness. I'm ashamed to say I don't fully believe it.

There's so many times when I don't feel considerate enough... But i'm certain she loves me as much as I love her, that she does her best, and she has a lot of things to do. It's not always easy to be with me. But... can't help but being sad, not confident. Not self confident. I'm afraid. I don't know what to do. We don't want to leave each other.

Wish you the best everyone, have a nice day, thanks for reading, it helps letting out some steam.

Bye !

For context I’ve been in my relationship for a year now and he’s always said stupid shit when he’s upset but recently he’s been starting arguments and he won’t just TALK TO ME LIKE IM HIS FUCKING GIRLFRIEND, for example last night I got home from my job at a donor lab and when I got here he was here playing Minecraft with my brother, when they were no longer playing and he got up I asked if I could sit in the recliner and he says no, and then he pats his lap like he wants me to sit on it but before I can even comprehend it and consider (which admittedly did take a second I have ADHD and just got off a long day at my understaffed as hell job. Sue me.) he just get out of the chair and says “you’re such a bitch” and when I tell him “don’t call me a bitch” he starts pouting and tells me “just go sit down” when I kept telling him not to call me a bitch because when I told him the first time he just rolled his eyes! By the end of it i just left the room and sat outside till he left. I can’t win with him ever, I can’t even come home from work and relax, god forbid I ask if we can do something I want to do he’ll either complain the whole time we’re playing or he’ll act like we only ever do what I want, which just flat out isn’t true! 9 times out of 10 I’m watching him and my brother do or watch something they want to, and my stuff gets made fun of, because of course! Making fun of my likes and interests and calling them cringe makes me feel SO included!! And I’ve told him to stop with all of this shit and he will for like, a week? And then go right back to it! And then I don’t drag him down to cuddle me within a 5 minute time frame and wait for Him to lay back down and he throws a tantrum over how I don’t love him!

Yesterday night turned into one of the strangest and most unsettling experiences of my life. I’m 41, married for 13 years, and I thought I had a pretty solid grasp of where my marriage stood, but last night really shook me. My wife went out with her girlfriends, which I’ve never had a problem with—she deserves time with her friends just as much as I do. Usually she texts me at least once to say where she is or when she’ll be home. But this time, I lost all contact with her. Her phone went off, no messages, no updates, nothing. For 24 hours I had no idea where she was. I barely slept, checking my phone every ten minutes, even calling some of her friends who gave me vague responses like “she’s fine, don’t worry.” Fine? How am I not supposed to worry when my wife is just gone without explanation? It felt like those long nights back when we were first dating, when she’d sometimes disappear after arguments, except now it’s not just some casual relationship—it’s our life, our home, our marriage. By the time she walked through the door the next evening, I was a mix of relief and boiling anger. I asked where she’d been, and she said she didn’t remember where she slept. Didn’t remember. Who comes home after a night out, missing for 24 hours, and just says that?

I’ll be honest, I lost it. I yelled at her like I haven’t in years. I accused her of cheating, because how else can you explain being unreachable for an entire day, coming home with vague and nonsensical answers? She kept saying things like “I think I crashed at someone’s place” or “we had too much fun, I’m not sure.” That just made me angrier, because I know her memory isn’t usually that bad, and even when she’s drunk she still remembers the basics. She didn’t smell like alcohol, her clothes didn’t seem dirty, and she acted almost too casual about it all. I felt like a fool, standing there with my voice raised, demanding answers, while she just shrugged and gave me half-sentences. After a while, I realized I wasn’t even getting anywhere—I was yelling into a wall. So I stopped. I sat down, let her walk away, and just stared at the table for what felt like forever. It reminded me of when my dad used to disappear for days when I was a kid, always coming back with some excuse, and how much I hated that uncertainty; now here I was reliving that same feeling, only with the person I chose to build my life with.

Now, a few hours later, I’m calm but still completely lost. I keep replaying it in my head, wondering if I overreacted by yelling, or if my reaction was justified. On one hand, I know trust is the backbone of any marriage, and disappearing without explanation for 24 hours is a massive breach of that trust. On the other hand, I can’t prove anything happened, and maybe she really was just careless with her phone and drank too much. But how do I get past the fact that her answers don’t make sense, that she seemed almost rehearsed in being vague? I don’t want to be the jealous, paranoid husband who jumps to conclusions, but I also don’t want to be the naive guy who ignores red flags. I’ve never felt this unsure before. Do I press harder for the truth, or do I let it go and hope it doesn’t happen again? Part of me thinks about counseling, another part thinks about giving her space, and another part thinks maybe I’m already losing her and this is the beginning of the end. Am I overreacting? Or would anyone else in my position feel the same way 😔?

So there is this guy in my class that i am friends with. He says he has dated a lot of girls (16 girls to be exact). And i have only dated 1 guy ever before. So while i don't like that he is a so called playboy, Idk why but i still like him.

We used to spend a lot of time together cause he is in my class and we also live in the same building. and one night he got icecream for us so we went on the terrace and sat together eating it.

So he initiated all of this by getting the icecream, eventually we both said we liked each other and then we even kissed (full blown makeout session actually)

All of this meant a lot to me as it is my first time at it. This continued for like a week, he "lovebombed" me. We even went on two movie dates. It was all like too good to be true types. It was very perfect to me, so i started really really liking this guy.

And well he basically stopped talking to me abruptly. And that has left me all heartbroken and clueless. Like why would he himself initiate the spark, tell me that he likes me, do all these nice things for me, and then just leave?

My boyfriend works in management at a private school, and during the holidays the school does a big clean-up. Recently, he brought home bedsheets, pillowcases, blankets, and even the curtains from the nurse’s office so that I could wash them. I don’t mind doing the sheets and bedding, but the curtains are extremely heavy, and on top of our regular house chores and laundry, it feels like a lot to put on me.

When I asked why he didn’t just use the outside service the school mentioned, he said it would cost the school money and that since we have a washing machine and a dryer at home, it made more sense to do it here. I tried explaining that the curtains are heavy and not easy to deal with, and his response was simply, “I bet.” It left me wondering why this task has suddenly become my responsibility in the first place.

Not a day goes by that I don't ask where she might be. I don't know, but I somehow feel like she'll return sooner or later. It's as if the distance we took had been a time for closure.

We became engaged, but she immediately asked me to distance ourselves. We didn't bother maintaining contact through other means. The one we had was simply our face-to-face meetings. She didn't bother with this aspect, and I didn't want to insist. I felt tense.

I don't know why it didn't go further, nor do I know the reason why she cut me off. It's the feeling that I make her tense because we're dating, and also because of the other people's needs. I have to admit, I felt that the other people didn't want our union, and it's a lie that people respect unions; they play a lot of games to destroy them.

Likewise, I left contact between us, despite everything, and I strategically managed to get her to store me among her contacts. I can't communicate with her because she's blocked me, but that already means she's putting me in a holding pattern and she can turn to me. I had to do it discreetly, so she'd have an excuse for blocking me, and not just leave me hanging or reject me, which would make my head spin.

The relationships surrounding her were definitely an issue for me, as well as for her. I was trying to get out of there. It's hard to give in to your personal desires when those around you pressure you to change the subject. I don't think I'm being a panderer or someone who's doing things in vain, but I won't deny that this is tiring. You can't tell anyone, and people, if they're interested in making you give in on something, pressure you to know; they're not interested; it's all at the expense of their own interests.

In fact, when we agreed or started dating, she was in another relationship that she still couldn't get out of. Deep down, I feel like she's looking for motivation through, well, a relationship with me, where she's not worried about what I'm doing or how I'm doing it. Of course, the perfect remedy is this distancing, but it's not routine and therefore isn't supported. Rather, the tension induced by the abnormality of the situation isn't understood by many. The fact that it's new makes it hard for me to share, mainly because it arouses terrible prejudices.

My boss even wanted to intervene in the matter, one I had, but since he wasn't attending the place where I was, and also because he didn't need it for anything other than his own fears, I ended up making up an excuse in front of his superiors, making him and another woman who was pressuring me look like a bunch of exaggerated people.

In short, the strange thing about the situation lies in, first of all, this distancing, which for me, as from what I'm seeing, is resulting in support for her, and at the same time, the persistent belief that sooner or later she'll end this distancing. However, now that I'm reading this, it doesn't surprise me, because I'm allowing her to live her life, maintaining stability regarding my anxieties, something she didn't even remotely have with her boyfriend. In the long run, this situation is a spur of attraction for her.

I feel like I'll never see her again, and it seems unfair because we didn't experience many things. She simply said she didn't want to talk, despite reaching out after I acted a priori regarding my mental health. These are things she supports, however, it seems that when it comes to causing the damage, things change.

I was willing to rebuild us, without further complications. Indeed, I could have caused more damage, but I was willing to face it. She observed that I was afraid of her reactions, precisely because of what I would do with them. Without a doubt, I went to the services of the institution where she worked, but she had no other choice.

The scandal that girl caused was monumental. I can't pretend to be ironclad all the time. I don't know if she is used to submissive treatment in circumstances like these or if her environment is, but I definitely am not. I don't like being at the mercy of the aftermath, drowning in silence.

Such an act as hers ultimately implied a failure to manage her whims, to a certain extent a definitive abandonment. It's feeling that after what she did and provoked in me, she simply ran away from me, though not for any reason of her own. It's watching our relationship fracture precisely because of her, even though she was the one who had caused it.

We can safely say that she left me. Friends, boyfriends, she ultimately remains indifferent. Indeed, I felt it was unfair. I must admit that as time went by, I began to notice that she wanted to make less of a contribution to the efforts our relationship entailed, amidst her other relationships. Without a doubt, she succumbed to these latter, to the point of even relying on them to make herself less responsible for her role in our relationship. They even intervened.

It must be said, for my part, in that relationship, I was at a level of commitment, more so than accepting it as a zone of tranquility. That commitment consisted of ensuring that the relationship maintained agreements by guiding us through it, respecting the freedom with which we arrived and continuing to be in it. I didn't see beyond that because that wasn't my goal, but that doesn't mean I missed something amidst those details I discarded to focus on that goal.

At this moment, I don't know where she is, or even if it's worth searching for her. After all, if she's not willing to do something about her reactions, if she's not willing to surrender to the increasing magnitude of them, then it makes sense to face a beginning that would end in the same fate, another abandonment. It's curious, but the last time we saw each other, she didn't set a date for the end of this phase between us. However, we would fall back into the same cycle.

I'm not even sorry that I should continue waiting for her, as it would be another way of beginning and ending with the same outcome, assuming she still maintains the same relationships that included the one she had with me. Otherwise, we could indeed observe a level of commitment, as she doesn't retain the possibility of escape with others, and is supported by them as well. However, this would consist of the cessation of relationships with her surroundings, which, given this abandonment, must result in a strengthening of cohesion, also given by protection amid the circumstances experienced between the next-to-last and last time I saw her.

I feel no hope of seeing her again, and it's definitive. It would be a highly probable path to frustration to assume that adverse conditions existed. Despite everything, I feel there's something I'm omitting, I have to admit.

So here I am, 41 years old, a dude who’s been married for a good chunk of time, and it seems my wife has decided that couples therapy is a must. She thinks it's gonna fix whatever’s broken in our little world. I get it, maybe I’m not the best at pouring my heart out—that’s always been her forte. But every time we sit in those sessions, I’m blank. My mind's as empty as a bird-less sky, and it's pissing her off. She wants deep conversations; I’m more of a "cut to the chase" guy. The therapist throws out terms like "emotional bandwidth" and "communication barrier," and while it sounds sophisticated, it really just makes me feel like I’m taking a pop quiz I didn’t study for. Am I supposed to say what’s really on my mind or just nod and agree? Anyone who’s been there, what's the deal? 🤔

My wife hit me with a quote once, "The unexamined life is not worth living,"...; it sure sounds smart, but I'm still scratching my head about how it applies to our Tuesday at 5 PM therapy slots. I’m supposed to dig up stuff to talk about—things from the past, the future, "feelings" (whatever they are). But here’s the truth, maybe I'm scared of opening up. What if peeling back those layers just exposes more crap I didn’t even know was buried deep in my subconscious? And here's another thing: I've always been a "don't fix it if it ain't broke" guy, but maybe that's led to some cracks in the foundation. Friend of mine once said, "Marriage is like a poker game; you gotta know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em." Maybe it’s time I start holding up my end of the deal a bit better without turning every session into a game of 20 questions. I'm hopeful because change is possible, right? But damn, how do you even start? Anyone else out there in the same spot, any tips, or is it just blah blah until the clock runs out?

Does anyone else’s boyfriend treat weekends like a professional gaming tournament? Mine wakes up, strolls out of the bedroom, and plants himself in front of the TV like he’s clocking in for work. If we have errands, it takes a good half hour of sitting and waiting just to get him to walk out the door. And the moment we’re back? Straight back to the TV like nothing happened. Even ordering dinner becomes a gaming side quest—he’ll half-pick something, pass it to me, and then come back later attempts to continue where we left off 🤦🏻‍♀️

He says he wants to get healthier and lose weight. But so far, his workout routine consists of thumb sprints and the occasional frustrated jump when the game doesn’t go his way. He claims that before we met, he’d work out after work. Honestly? Judging by his current routine, I’m 90% sure he’s talking about a fictional version of himself from an alternate universe. Basically, his life revolves around work, sleep, and the TV. The TV is on from the moment he wakes up until he goes to bed. Honestly I’m so fed up.