rSlash - r/Offmychest My Dad Confessed He's a KID LOVER

Episode Date: August 16, 2025

0:00 Intro 0:09 Death bed confession 1:45 Comment 2:34 Set ups 4:41 Birth control 7:08 Molly 9:13 Security 11:30 Saddest story ever Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to R slash off my chest, where O.P.'s father makes a horrible deathbid confession. Our next Reddit post is from Radiant External. My dad passed away two weeks ago. We weren't very close, but I was the one with him in his final days because my mom died years ago and my siblings live abroad. He had liver failure, was in and out of lucidity, and there were moments he'd say things that didn't make sense. Until one night, he looked straight at me and said,

I'm sorry for what I did to your cousin. I asked him what he meant. He just kept repeating, I was drunk, I didn't know, I was young, I was stupid. It took a few more minutes of him talking and half thoughts before it hit me. He was admitting to molesting her. My cousin, my childhood best friend, the one who suddenly stopped coming around when we were 10,

the one whose family moved and cut all contact without warning. I've been spiraling ever since. I don't know what to do with this. He's gone. He can't be punished. I don't even know where she lives now. I don't even know if I should try to find her and tell her. What would it change? I buried my father and I'm burying this with him, but it's eating me alive. I wish I never heard it. I wish I could unknow it. I hate him for this. I hate that I loved him. This scumbag father really confessed his crime just to give him like, what, an hour, a couple of days of relief from the guilt, and in exchange, curse his own son with this horrible knowledge. What a selfish piece of human garbage. Down in the comments, there's this story from Hail Satan Worship Doom. The company cleaning out my dad's apartment after he passed found CP. They charged me extra because they had to call the police to dispose of it because they weren't legally allowed to view or possess it. It was years ago, I've never told my brother.

I wasn't close to my dad, but my brother was, knowing that would break him. I wish I could share this with him because then he would understand that our dad wasn't the hero that he made him out to be. But I can't let him know about it. I can't do that to him. Sometimes I don't think about it at all. Some days, something reminds me and there's a black pit in my stomach. In your situation, I'd make every effort to find your cousin and tell them. Otherwise, it's gonna fester, like with me.

Our next Reddit post is from Big Talk Small Action. I'm a 26-year-old guy, and I broke up with my girlfriend of nine months yesterday because I'm apparently supposed to treat her Instagram like a job interview. She posted a black screen to her story with the caption, Some people really disappoint you, lull. No context, no explanation, just that. So I ignored it. Because I'm not a mind reader and I'm not going to play high school games. I assumed it was about one of her friends or just her being passive-aggressive about work or whatever.

Well, apparently that was a test. She told me I failed because I didn't message her right away asking what was wrong. She said that it showed I don't care enough to check in. I told her I don't check Instagram every five minutes. and if she has a problem with me, she should act like an adult and talk to me instead of fishing for attention through vague stories. She said that I was being cold and emotionally unavailable. I said that she was being manipulative and immature. She cried, I packed my stuff. She's still messaging me, telling me I'm heartless for leaving over one small thing.

But it's not one small thing. It's the million little red flags I've ignored for too long. The tests. The mood swings, the social media drama. I'm not dating a puzzle I have to solve daily just to avoid a tantrum. I want peace. Not stories written in invisible ink that I'm expected to decode while she sits there with her arms crossed, waiting to see if I love her enough to notice.

Done, blocked, logged out. I feel like I can breathe again. That line about the puzzle caught me off guard, because I like to do the New York Time Daily puzzles. you know, like wordle and connections and the crossword puzzle, and some days they're frustrating. You know, some days you just don't get it. So it would be so awful if it's like, solve these three New York Times puzzles

or your girlfriend is mad at you all day. Sounds like torture. Our next Reddit post comes from silly stupid Kiwi. My friend David is 36 and I'm 39. We've been friends since high school. My high school had a thing where the freshman students would be assigned. a senior to show them around, and that's how I met him. I was assigned to David. In high school, David started dating a girl named Sammy. They were the stereotypical high school sweetheart couple.

Going on cheesy dates and sending each other love letters, that type of couple. Well, they got married after college and were due to have a baby in April. However, Sammy had complications while giving birth and ended up passing away from excessive bleeding. That left David as a single father to his newborn daughter. David, understandably so, hasn't been taking it well at all. For the first few months or so, his parents were helping him take care of his daughter, but had to go back home as they were living about an hour away. Since then, I've been helping David as much as I can as we live in the same town. Last night, he called me at about 2 a.m. and told me to come over because he needed to talk to me about something important. Even though he had woken me up,

I wasn't about to leave him alone, so I drove to his house and found him sitting on his front step, drinking a beer. It was clear he'd been crying, and that definitely wasn't his first drink. He told me to sit with him, so I did. What he tells me next is something I can't stop thinking about. David tells me that Sammy never wanted to have kids, but he did. He explained how having kids had become a hot topic in their house, and he was worried it would ruin their marriage. He didn't want her to leave him, and also wanted a baby, so he chose to sabotage her birth control, and convince her to keep the pregnancy. He tells me that now he believed that her death is his fault,

and he said that he can't look at their daughter without feeling guilty and like a murderer. I was genuinely at a loss for words. I didn't know what to think, and I honestly still don't. After his confession, I just convinced him to go to bed and tried not to think about what he just told me. I'm not even sure what to think anymore. This whole situation is disgusting. That was three days ago, and I've kept in contact with him until I can figure out what to do next.

I genuinely don't know what to do now. Well, maybe he feels like a murderer because he kind of is a murderer. Maybe he feels guilt when he looks at his daughter because he should feel guilt when he looked at his daughter. Our next Reddit post is from Productify. About two weeks ago, I took a dose of MDMA, aka Molly, with my friends. Having not done the drug before, I was expecting a night of shenanigans, high energy, and laughs with my friends. Instead, on the come-up, I was overwhelmed with love, and all I could think about was my wife, who, over the past few months, I've honestly neglected to properly express my love to,

mostly due to being so caught up in my own issues with depression and being angry about the state of the world. But as this drug entered my system, all I could think about was this beautiful woman, the love of my life, how kind she is, how beautiful and patient she's always been with me, and how much love I have in my heart for her. So I called her and had me pick her up, and we spent the night in bed just cuddling and talking in our candlelit bedroom. In that moment, every word of love I've never been able to properly express to her poured out of me, and we talked about so many deep issues in our relationship. And as I spoke these words of love, it was like I felt a dark presence within me just purging from my body and finally leaving. Following this night, my relationship has not only

been better, but my own outlook on life has improved immensely, and I've been happier. The trauma of my childhood hasn't lingered inside my head like it usually does, and the reoccurring nightmares that I've been having about my childhood home have gone away. I've developed a stronger desire than ever to be a good person and spread good in this world. I've realized how lucky I am to have the beautiful people I do in my life and how much I love them all. Oddly enough, I also never want to do Molly again. The desire isn't there, but God am I grateful for what it gave to me. Interesting fact, MDMA was originally created to help with anxiety and depression, which sounds like it did. It was also used to give to soldiers during World War II to suppress appetite and to act as like a

stimulant, so like a very mild super soldier serum, I guess you could say, that one didn't quite work out. Our next Reddit post is from probably a mistake. I'm quitting my reasonable, well-paying job in finance to buy a burger joint. I work for a bank in risk management. I get paid well, do little work, and have great benefits. I hate it. I've always hated it. My life is a constant cycle of being relaxed, effing off most of the time while getting paid, and I absolutely dread the occasional deadlines I have. I'm just a cog and a multi-billion dollar global banking machine. I love to feed people. I love to cook. I was happiest busting butt working a grill and managing staff when I worked in food service and catering in college. I would happily work 20 hours

feeding people over four hours of this dreadful, pointless monkey work at a bank. My wife and I have enough money to open the business and build it more. It's well positioned with a lot of great development nearby, and because of the pandemic, it's essentially being sold at cost. It's pretty much turnkey. If I told my coworkers, they would say I'm absolutely crazy. I'm pretty sure I am. I will most certainly make far less than I do now, with far more work expected of me. But I would rather own something, be in charge, and deliver smiles and full bellies. Nothing makes me happier than being in a kitchen. But I'm also 35 and have a little time on my hands to take a risk. Nobody has ever told me leaving a lucrative career for food service is smart in any sense. It's not. I get this.

I'm certain this is going to fail, or at least not be worth the effort. But I'm doing it anyway and accepting the calculated risk. I'm scared I won't see my wife and son as much. I'm scared I'll be a poor business owner, and I'm scared I'll lose respect in my social circles and my business community. But I'm doing it anyways. I'm doing it. My wife supports me. We're stable financially, which is a blessing beyond blessings. And it's time to do something that I feel passion for. It's time to shit or get off the pot. I'm mostly proud of you, O.P. Do what makes you happy, not what makes you rich. Though I do think you've got your work cut out for you. Hids up on this next story. It's pretty thing, so I put this story last in case you want to click off of it.

Our next Reddit post is from Miserable Cup. My wife killed herself and I'm angry. She died three months ago and I'm still in shock and disbelief that she really is gone. Both my wife and I are 25 and we have two kids, ages 7 and 3. My 7-year-old daughter seems to be dealing with her mom's death better than I am. I've been with my wife since we were both only 11 years old. When we were both 15, she got pregnant and we were super, excited to have this baby. We found out that it was a girl and named her Alice after a character

in a movie that we both like. Unfortunately, she had a late-term miscarriage when she was six months along. After her miscarriage, she turned suicidal to the point where she had to be in a mental hospital for months. Her parents were abusive to her and were treating her horribly during this time. When she was finally discharged, she decided that she can no longer live with her parents, so she moved in with my dad and I. We were 16 at this time, and she seemed happier that we were constantly partying, but she kept talking about how much she missed Alice. We got Alice cremated, and she would spend hours talking to her ashes and crying that she wasn't there. About a year later, when we were 17 and in her senior year of high school,

we found out that she was pregnant again. It was a girl, and my wife was happy because she thought that this was the reincarnation of Alice. She even decided to name this baby after another character from the same movie Alice is from. But as her pregnancy went on, she realized this baby isn't Alice. And even after she gave birth to our daughter, she told me that she doesn't love her as much as she loves Alice. I told her to start therapy, but she refused. Soon after, we moved out of my dad's house and into her own apartment. She felt really lonely with this move, especially since I worked a full-time job and she was at home all day with the baby. She kept telling me that she wished we didn't have our daughter and that Alice was here instead. She started working so

she could get out of the house, but she ended up hating it and quit a month later. About a year after this, when we were 19, I proposed to her. She was super excited to be a fiancé and kept telling me how she wants to spend the rest of her life with me, but that it would be better if it was just us and not our daughter. Two years later, when we were 21, my wife found out that she was pregnant again. I asked her if she wanted to keep it, and she told me that she really does, and that she thinks this baby could be Alice reincarnated, unlike our daughter. When we found out that it was a boy, she began trying to kill herself again and had to be put in a mental hospital for two weeks. The only thought that kept her going was that maybe God sent Alice as a boy. Towards the end of her

pregnancy, we got married and bought a house. After she gave birth, she told me she didn't just not love this baby, she didn't like him at all. During the next few years before her death, she would constantly talk about Alice and cry about how she misses her so much while telling me how she wishes we never had our children. She killed herself on the 10-year anniversary of Alice's death. She wrote in her suicide note that she realized that there's no one on earth that she loves more than Alice, and that she needs to go be with her, even if that means leaving all of us behind. I'm feeling a lot of emotions, but mostly I'm angry at her. Because why do you care more about your miscarriage from 10 years ago than your two living children or me? Our daughter told me

that she's not that sad about her mom's death because she knows that she never loved her. It breaks my heart that my child feels that way and that I know that it's true. And now my kids will never have a mom again. But as much as I'm mad at her, I love that girl more than than anything since the moment I met her in middle school. It's just a sad situation to be in. I don't know. I think the one silver lining in this story is that those kids seem to have a father who does care. So hopefully, O.P. gives those kids the love of two parents. That was R. Slash off my chest. And if you like this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.