Reddit Stories - INEBRIATED pal disclosed that I had INTERACTED with an L among 8 INDIVIDUALS

Episode Date: July 11, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #tifu #confession #drunkencounters #socialblunders #friendshipwoesSummary: An inebriated pal revealed that I had interacted with an L among 8 individuals, leading to a potential conflict. The disclosure sparked a series of events that tested friendships and ethics, ultimately prompting a reassessment of past actions and their consequences.Tags: redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, confession, drunkencounters, socialblunders, friendshipwoes, ethics, disclosure, conflictresolution, pastactions, interpersonalrelationships, secretsrevealed, moralquandary, socialdrama, friendshipdynamics, personalaccountability, groupencounterBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. Inebriated pal disclosed that I had interacted with an L among eight individuals during my university days, and my betrothed became displeased as I consistently declined engaging in a similar activity with him, citing a preference towards myself. Willing with men I didn't respect them with him. I feel like I'm going crazy and I need to know if I'm the a-hole here. This is a really personal thing to talk about, but I don't have anyone else to turn to and I just need to know if I'm being unreasonable. IEFF have been with my fiancé John for three years now, our relationship has been pretty

much amazing from the start. We clicked right away, have similar interests, and honestly, I thought he might be the one early on. So when he proposed a few months back, I was over the moon and said yes without hesitation. We had to put wedding planning on hold because of everything going on with the pandemic, but that was fine, we were happy just being together. for a bit of background, I met John at a mutual friend's birthday party. We didn't actually talk much that night, but we ended up reconnecting a few weeks later at a local bar. He didn't

recognize me at first, which was kind of awkward, but after I reminded him where we'd met, we hit it off almost immediately. Our first date was actually a bit of a disaster. The restaurant lost our reservation. It started raining when we were walking back to the car, and my heel broke. But despite all that, I had such a good time just talking with him that none of those things mattered. After that, everything just seemed to fall into place. We moved and together after about a year, and things had been pretty smooth sailing. He's thoughtful, funny, and we rarely fight about anything serious. I could honestly see myself spending the rest of my life with him, or at least I could until this whole thing happened. We never really talked much about

our past relationships or sexual histories. It wasn't like we were deliberately avoiding the topic, but we both seemed to prefer focusing on our present rather than digging into the past. I knew he'd had a few serious girlfriends before me, and he knew I'd dated around in college, but we never got into specifics. Maybe that was our first mistake, I don't know. Our sex life has been great, by the way. At least I thought it was. We're pretty compatible in terms of drive and preferences, and he's always been attentive and caring. Sometimes we try new things, sometimes we stick to what works, pretty normal, I think. There were a few things he suggested early on that I wasn't interested in trying, including take it in the but hole, but he never

pushed the issue and seemed fine with my boundaries. So last weekend, with restrictions easing in our state, we decided to host a small get-together at our place. Just a few friends over for drinks and food. Most of them were my college friends who John had met a few times before. Everyone was getting along great, and after a few drinks, we all got pretty loose and started playing some party games. I should mention that I hadn't seen most of these friends in person for over a year because of the pandemic. We'd done some Zoom calls, but it's not the same, you know? So everyone was in this celebratory mood, drinking a bit more than usual, and just happy to be socializing normally again. The night started out with just catching up, talking about work, relationships, the usual

stuff. My friend Taylor just got a new job, Melissa had moved in with her boyfriend, and Ryan had finally finished his master's degree after putting it off for years. John was being a great host, making sure everyone's drinks were full and putting out snacks. I remember thinking how lucky I was to have found someone who got along so well with my friends. At some point, someone suggested, we play a drinking game. I think it was Ryan, but I had a few drinks in me by then, so I'm not 100% sure. We started with Never Have I Ever, which is always dangerous when you're playing with people who knew you in college. But it was fun, and at first, the questions were pretty tame. Then, as these things usually go, the questions started getting

more personal and sexual. Someone said Never Have I ever had sex in public, and a few people drank, including me and John. That got a few laughs and whistles. Then it was never have I ever been in a threesome, and so on. At some point, the game evolved into more direct questions. People were taking turns asking specific questions to others in the group. When it got to me, someone asked whether I'd ever had anal sex. I tried to brush it off and not answer because, you know, that's private. But my friend Melissa, who was absolutely wasted by this point, just blurted out of course she has, she did it with Mark and that guy from her statistics class. I was fucking mortified.

I shot her a look that could kill, but didn't want to make a scene and ruin the party. We all laughed awkwardly and moved on to something else pretty quickly. I thought that was the end of it, but I did notice John giving me a strange look across the room. The party continued for a few more hours. We ordered some pizzas, put on music, and people started dancing in our living room. The conversation had moved on to other topics, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. I tried to put the awkward moment out of my mind and just enjoy being with friends again. Eventually, people started heading out.

Ryan was the first to leave around midnight, saying he had work early the next morning. and her boyfriend left next, than a couple others. Melissa was so drunk that her boyfriend had to practically carry her out. He apologized for her behavior, and I just waved it off, saying it was fine even though I was still annoyed. Once everyone was gone, John and I started cleaning up. Our apartment was a mess, empty bottles and pizza boxes everywhere, cushions on the floor, someone had spilled wine on the rug. Normal post-party chaos. We worked in silence for a while, which wasn't unusual, we were both tired. But as we kept cleaning, I noticed John was being extra quiet, not even making his usual comments about how we should

never host parties again. Something he says after every gathering, even though he actually loves having people over. After we'd gotten most of the mess cleaned up, I asked him if everything was okay. He just shrugged and said he was fine, just tired. But I could tell something was off. He wasn't looking me in the eye, and his responses were short. Here is the conversation we had. It's not exactly the same but close enough as far as I remember. Are you sure nothing's bothering you? I pressed. That's when he finally brought it up. So, you've had anal sex before? He asked, I didn't really know what to say. It felt like we were having two completely different conversations. Um, yeah, I guess. Why?

You guess? You either have or you haven't, he said, yes, I have, I admitted. But that was a long time ago, in college. Why are we talking about this now? He put down the trash bag and crossed his arms. Why didn't you ever tell me? Because it never came up? I don't know, John. It's not exactly something that you bring up in casual conversation. Then he started asking more specific questions. How many guys had I done that with? Was it something I enjoyed? Why had I never mentioned it before?

I felt really uncomfortable with the interrogation but answered honestly that I'd done it with around eight guys back in college. Eight guys? He repeated, looking genuinely shocked. You've had anal sex with eight different men? I felt my face getting hot. I didn't like his tone. like he was judging me for something I did years ago.

Yes, eight. What does it matter? That was before I even met you. It matters because you've turned me down every time I've suggested it, he said. I've brought it up at least three times since we've been together, and each time you said it wasn't something you were interested in. Which was true. Early in our relationship, he had mentioned wanting to try anal a few times.

I had always declined, saying it wasn't something. I enjoyed. I didn't go into detail about my past experiences because, again, it never seemed relevant. I'm not interested in it, I said. I tried it in college, it wasn't for me, end of story. But it clearly was for you at some point, he insisted. You did it with eight different guys. That's not experimenting once or twice. That's a pattern. I was getting frustrated at this point. Why was he so fixated on this one-sex act? I was in a different place then, John. I was younger, I was trying to figure out what I liked and didn't like.

So what, you figured out you didn't like it after the eighth guy? Why did you keep doing it if you didn't enjoy it? I tried to explain that it wasn't that simple. In college, I went through a phase where I was more adventurous, more willing to try things even if they weren't particularly pleasurable for me. I like the taboo aspect of it, the feeling of doing something naughty. But as I got older,

I realized I didn't need to do things just to please partners or to feel edgy. So it's not that you didn't enjoy it then, he said, looking confused. You're saying you did like it, but now you don't want to do it anymore? With me specifically? I sighed, feeling increasingly trapped in this conversation.

I'm saying I don't want to do it now. with anyone. It's not about you. It's about what I want to do with my body. But why don't you want to do it with me? Is it because you don't find me as attractive as those other guys? Don't you trust me? I could see he was getting upset. And I was trying to remain calm, but it was difficult. I tried to explain that it wasn't about him at all. I told him that I had experimented with a lot of things in college when I was going through a wild phase. Aynol was something I tried because it felt taboo and exciting at the time, but honestly, I didn't particularly enjoy it and don't want to do it again.

I told him I especially didn't want to do it with someone I genuinely loved and respected, because the act itself felt degrading to me personally. He did not take that well. Not at all. So you're saying you respected those other guys less than me? That's why you were willing to do it with them? I tried to clarify, saying it wasn't about respect. for them, but about how I viewed myself at that time and how I've changed since then.

But he wasn't really listening. I don't understand, he said, running his hand through his hair in frustration. If you love and trust someone, shouldn't you be more willing to be vulnerable and try different things with them, not less? We went back and forth like this for a while, both of us getting more frustrated. I felt like he wasn't hearing me at all, and he seemed to think I was hiding something or making excuses. Then he said something that really hurt. He knew I had briefly dated a baseball player in college, and he said, so you were happy getting on your hands and knees to get us fucked by a

left fielder but suddenly became a prude for me? As soon as the words left his mouth, I could tell he regretted it. He apologized right away, saying he didn't mean it and that he was just upset. But the damage was done. I told him I didn't want to talk about this anymore and went to take a shower, hoping it would help me calm down. When I got out, he had already gone to bed. I considered sleeping on the couch but decided against it. I didn't want to make things worse by physically separating ourselves. So I got into bed, staying as far to my side as possible. I could tell he was awake, but neither of us said anything. That was four days ago. Things have been super tense since then. We're being polite to each other.

making small talk about work or what to have for dinner, but there's this awful distance between us. We haven't had sex or even really touched each other since the fight. He went out with his buddies the other night and came home late, which isn't like him. I tried to bring it up again the next day, but he just said he needed time to process things. I gave him space, hoping he'd come around once he had time to think. Yesterday, he finally seemed ready to talk again. He apologized for the way he'd read. reacted and for the hurtful things he'd said. But he also admitted that he was still struggling

with the revelation about my past. I just feel like there's this whole side of you I never knew about, he said. And it makes me wonder what else you haven't told me. I assured him there weren't any major secrets I was keeping, that this was just something that had never come up before. But I could tell he was still troubled. And I still don't understand why you're comfortable doing that with other men but not with me, he added. It makes me feel like you settled for me, like I'm not exciting enough or something. I tried again to explain that it wasn't about him, that my boundaries and preferences had changed as I'd gotten older, but he still seemed skeptical. The conversation ended with both of us agreeing to take some time to think about things.

He said he didn't want to break up or anything drastic, but that he needed to figure out if he could move past this. So that's where we are now. In a weird limbo where we're still together, still living together, but with this giant, awkward elephant in the room. I don't know what to do. I understand that he might feel insecure or even a little rejected finding out I did things with other people that I don't want to do with him. But at the same time, I feel like I have the right to decide what I want to do with my body now,

regardless of what I did in the past. I'm really torn and confused and could use some outside perspectives. Am I the asshole for refusing to do something with my fiancé that I used to do with casual partners? Update, first, I want to say thanks to everyone who commented on my original post. There were over 100 comments when I last checked. I read as many as I could, and I appreciate all the different perspectives, even the ones that were hard to hear. And just to address a few common points that kept coming up in the comments. 1. No, I never trapped John or deliberately lied to him about my past. We just never discussed

sexual history in detail until this came up. Two, several people suggested that John might be more upset about finding out in front of friends than about the act itself. I did consider this, and I'll address it below. Three, to the people calling me every slut-shaming name in the book, you can fuck right off. What I did in college doesn't define me, and it's a exactly that kind of attitude that makes women feel they can't be honest about their sexual histories. 4. And to those suggesting I might have an STD I wasn't telling John about. No, I don't. I get tested regularly and have been completely transparent with John about my sexual health. Anyway, a lot has happened since my last post, and I wanted to update you all on the situation.

The tension in our apartment continued for about a week after my post. We were basically like roommates, polite but distant. We ate meals together sometimes, watched TV in the same room, but there was no physical affection, no real connection. I tried to give John the space he said he needed, but it was killing me to feel so disconnected from him. One night, after a particularly quiet dinner of takeout Thai food, where we barely spoke except to pass the soy sauce, I decided I couldn't take it anymore.

I told him we needed to talk, really talk, about what was going to. on. At first, he was reluctant, saying he still wasn't sure how he felt. But I pushed, saying that regardless of where we ended up, we needed to communicate. So we sat down on the couch, as far apart as possible, and started talking. I asked him to explain exactly what was bothering him about the situation. Was it finding out in front of our friends? Was it the number of partners? Or was it really just about the specific sex act? He thought for a while before answering. It's all of it, I guess, he finally said.

Finding out like that was embarrassing. But it's more that. I thought I knew you. And now I feel like there's this whole other person you used to be that I know nothing about. I pointed out that everyone has a past, and that the person I was in college is and who I am now. People grow and change, and that's normal. But it's not just that you did these things, he continued. It's that you were willing to do them with people who meant nothing to you, but not with

me, who you supposedly love more than anyone. That stung, especially the supposedly part. But I tried to stay calm. I do love you more than anyone, I said. And that's exactly why certain things feel different with you. When I was with those guys in college, it was all about the thrill, the taboo. I didn't care what they thought of me because I didn't respect them, and honestly, I probably didn't respect myself much either. I tried to explain again how, to me, the act felt degrading,

and that while that degradation might have been part of the appeal with casual partners, it felt wrong with someone I deeply loved and respected. He listened, but I could tell he was still struggling to understand. I just don't see how something can be okay in one context but not in another, he said. If you did it before and were fine with it, why is it suddenly this big deal now? I was getting frustrated at this point, feeling like we were going in circles. Because I'm allowed to change my mind. Because I'm allowed to set boundaries based on what feels right for me now, not what I was willing to do years ago.

After thinking about everything for a few days and reading your comments, I decided to try to see things from John's perspective. I realized that finding out about my past the way he did, in front of our friends, probably made him feel blindsided. and I could understand how he might feel that I valued him less than my previous partners, even though that couldn't be further from the truth. At one point in our conversation, I broke down and told him that I felt like he was punishing me for being honest.

If I had lied and said I'd never done it before, we wouldn't be having this problem, I said through tears. Is that what you would have preferred? He shook his head and said no, he wouldn't want me to lie. But he also admitted that he was having trouble reconciling the evening. image he had of me with this new information. I had you on this pedestal, he said quietly. And now I don't know where to put you.

That comment hurt more than anything else he'd said, to be honest. The idea that he had idealized me to the point where learning about my real past could shatter his image of me was troubling. We talked for hours that night, going over the same points again and again. By the end, we were both emotionally exhausted. He said he needed to think about everything we did. discussed, and I agreed to give him more time. The next few days were slightly better. The tension hadn't disappeared, but at least we were talking again. He even initiated physical contact once or

twice, nothing sexual, just a hand on my shoulder or sitting closer on the couch. I took these as positive signs. So I decided to make a gesture. I told him that I had been thinking a lot about what happened and how he felt. I explained again that it wasn't about him not being good enough or me not being attracted to him, it was about me being in a different place in my life now. But I also told him that if it was really important to him, I would be willing to try incorporating that into our sex life. He seemed surprised by my offer, but not as enthusiastic as I expected. He just kind of nodded and said we could try if I really wanted to. His reaction was weird, like he was just going through the motions.

I was confused by his lukewarm response but thought maybe he was just being cautious. So a couple nights later, we tried it. And it was fucking awful, to be honest. I thought I could handle it for the sake of our relationship, but as soon as we started, I felt this unexpected wave of sadness. In the past, John had always been really attentive and caring during sex, always checking if I was but this time, he was almost mechanical about it. He must have seen that I was uncomfortable,

maybe even on the verge of tears, but he just continued. When he finished, I immediately went to take a shower and ended up just sitting on the floor of the tub crying. That's when I knew our relationship was probably over. It wasn't even about the sex act itself anymore. It was about how something fundamental had changed between us. The next day, we had one final conversation about John actually apologized for how he behaved and admitted that something had changed for him after hearing

about my past. He said he had built up this image of who I was, and learning about my college days had shattered that image. He said he had tried to get past it but couldn't stop thinking about me with other guys, especially doing things I had initially refused to do with him. I know it's not fair, he said. I know I shouldn't care about what you did before we met. But I can't help it. Every time I look at you now, I see a different person. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help him see me as I really am, the woman he fell in love with, who was a sum of all her experiences, good and bad. But he just shook his head. I've tried, he said. I've been trying all week. But I can't get past it. And I think if we stay together,

it will always be there between us. I knew he was right. The look in his eyes when he looked at me had changed. The warmth and love had been replaced by something else, not he. He knew he was right. The look in The warmth and love had been replaced by something else, not hatred or disgust exactly, but a kind of sad confusion. So we decided to end things. We broke off the engagement, and I moved out last weekend. My friend Taylor had a spare bedroom, so I'm crashing there until I can find my own place. John was surprisingly helpful with the move, which made it both easier and harder somehow.

It was surreal, packing up my things from the apartment we'd shared for two years. As I was packing my books, I found a note he'd written me last Valentine's Day, tucked into a novel I hadn't opened since then. To my best friend and future wife, I'm the luckiest man alive. Reading that nearly broke me. The actual moving day was a blur. Taylor's boyfriend brought his truck, and we loaded up my stuff in just a few hours. John helped carry boxes and even assembled my bed at Taylor's Place. We were both trying so hard to be civil. to end things with dignity. When everything was moved in, we stood awkwardly in Taylor's driveway,

not sure how to say goodbye. I'm sorry it ended this way, he finally said. I really did love you. I loved you too, I said. I still do. He gave me a sad smile, then hugged me briefly before getting in his car and driving away. And just like that, three years together was over. I'm not going to pretend I'm doing great. This was by far the best relationship I've ever had, and watching it crumble so quickly over something from my past has been disorienting as hell. One minute we were planning a wedding, and the next I'm sleeping on an air mattress in my friend's spare room. Life is fucking weird sometimes. The past week has been a roller coaster. I still have moments where I reach from my phone to text John about something funny that happened or to ask what he wants for dinner. It's those small, everyday things I

the most. I'm not really sure what the lesson is here. Maybe some things are just deal-breakers no matter how good the relationship seems. Anyway, that's where things stand. Thanks for listening to my rambling and for all the advice, even the parts that were hard to hear. I'm not sure if I'll update again as there isn't much more to say, but who knows? Life is full of surprises, as I've recently been reminded.