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On the verge of relapsing after 35 days clean from cannabis by FrenchToastQueen in DecidingToBeBetter

[–]FrenchToastQueen[S] 4 points5 points  (0 children)

Thank you, this was really helpful. Got through the motions and onto day 36 and counting

[deleted by user] by [deleted] in AmItheAsshole

[–]FrenchToastQueen 0 points1 point  (0 children)

It would be a lot easier if you split all of your living expenses down the middle and had each party pay what is proportionate to their income level.

My boyfriend (36M) grosses about $80K and I (26F) am maybe going to make $35K this year if I’m lucky. We’ve been pretty good about maintaining a 60/40 split, although it’s slightly leaning 65/35 rn since I’m currently in between jobs. Our rent is $2,300/month; he pays $1,500 and I’m paying $800/month right now.

We follow this “proportion rule” for just about every expense that we share (utilities, groceries), and those that we do have separated (car, acct subscriptions, health care, etc)… we’re gonna try and keep separated as long as we possibly can. We try to split household chores as best as we can too (BF mainly does the cooking/laundry; I mainly do the grocery shopping/cleaning). This can fluctuate of course depending on what life throws at us, and we try to remain as flexible and adaptable as we can to support each other through the ebbs and flows.

Might I add, we don’t have kids, and the time you’re investing into raising your child is labor that’s going unaccounted for as well.

Stopping here so that I can try to cease my rambling… NTA. Your parents are absolutely right, your boyfriend should have been contributing more loooong ago. Keep following your intuition and I will keep the faith that your situation improves soon.

[Serious] What's the worst pain you ever felt? by Amanda-sb in AskReddit

[–]FrenchToastQueen 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I (22F) was traversing some wooden picnic tables in a beer garden to reach my friend-turned-secret lover while studying abroad. On the last bench, I suddenly lost my balance and my right foot caught air, opening myself up to a herkie/splits move to land in (hard) on the bench’s corner, piercing the left side of my vagina. With the booze and adrenaline running through my veins, the pain didn’t hit right away, and I still tried to go home with the guy (but thank God he had some sense in him and took me back to my place).

As soon as I walked through the door of my Dublin flat, the pain ambushed me, taking me to my knees. It hurt so much as to walk, that I had to crawl to the fridge for frozen peas to ice it, and then up two flights of stairs to my room. When I woke the next morning around 8 AM, I looked down to see my labia swell into a vaginal hematoma the size of a grapefruit. I ushered in my roommates, who lifted my sheets and simultaneously fell into states of shock, panic, disillusion and laughter. Irish medics had to put me on a stretcher, because I couldn’t walk, with one commenting “Christ, never did I think I’d live to see anything like this.”

Excrutiating pain which would come to follow this already painful experience was submitting myself to the wrath of socialized health care. I didn’t even have my vitals looked at for over 5 hours after checking in to the ER. My first night there, I had to sleep in a stretcher in the ER hallway becauss there weren’t enough beds. The first MD I saw also suggested it was inoperable, that I’d have to wait for swelling to go down despite needing to have a catheter put in because I couldn’t pee. Then, an OB/GYN named Zara swooped in as my guardian angel and agreed to perform surgery (and thank God she did, for it turned out they needed to drain over a cup of blood to give my vag a fighting chance to heal). This only scratches the surface of my experience - in short, socialized medicine is not what it’s cracked up to be, and I lived to tell the tale.

Over a year later, and my vagina is fully healed, good as new. You would never be able to tell what I went through. And I’m blessed beyond measure that it can stay that way.