rSlash - r/TIFU by Trying out Polyamory

Episode Date: June 1, 2022

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Welcome to our slash today I F'd up, where O.P goes into the wrong house and gets mistaken for a prostitute. Today I F'd up by disappointing a man who wanted to get laid by a maid. I'm a professional house cleaner in a large city. My first house today was beautiful and pretty big, over 4,000 square feet. I had never cleaned this house before today. It's kind of interesting to clean the home of people you've never actually met while they're not home. I never snoop, but I do learn about people just by the state of their house or whatever is out.

These people seem like they really needed us. I would guess they were busy and don't have much time for cleaning and organizing, but they definitely have an active love life judging by the master bedroom. I love cleaning dirty houses, and I was like amping myself up doing a mini-rocky training montage warm-up and finding the perfect music to work to. I was sweating four hours in, but I was getting the house sparkling. All I had left to do was clean the floors when a man walked in. I welcomed him home, and I let him know I just needed to clean the floors and I'd be

finished soon. He looks super confused and then kind of grand and asked if I was his birthday gift. I didn't really know what he meant. Maybe his wife scheduled the service on his birthday? I just answered with maybe happy birthday Mr. Hendrix, to which he looked even more confused and told me his name wasn't Hendrix. Well, that's because his next door neighbor, my actual client is Mr. Hendrix. I walked my stupid self into the wrong, f-ing house and cleaned all of it. Then, the guy who lived there came home and thought that I was a prostitute roleplaying as a house cleaner hired by his wife as a birthday present.

I was so totally embarrassed explaining myself to this guy and my boss. The entry instructions in the app said the client wouldn't be home, but that there was a key under the mat. There was no key under the mat, but the front door was unlocked. This isn't even the first time in my life that I let myself into the wrong house, although the first time wasn't a work thing. On the plus side, the dude was so happy with how clean his house was that I finished the floors and he paid me what my company would have charged him plus tip.

Manopi, I wish I had made accidentally walking into my house and cleaning it. Today I have to buy volunteering to research the mysterious death of my grandmother at the age of 32. My paternal grandmother's death in 1958 at the age of 32 has always been shrouded in mystery. Throughout the years, there have been various bits of hearsay that have led to theories and speculations of her dying to the flu, hepatitis, heart attack, appendicitis, etc. After another recent round of speculation at a family gathering, I volunteered to take the lead in researching the exact cause of her death if such a thing could be determined.

Further, I offered to report any findings back to everyone, so as to finally put the speculation and matter to rest. After some digging on Ancestry.com, I found both her and the actual copy of her death certificates. It listed sepsis and an incomplete abortion infected as the cause of death. I've checked and rechecked the information. It exactly matches her in every category. Name, maiden name, date of birth, location of birth, address, mother's name, father's name, date of death, city, county, state of death, etc.

It's a hundred percent her. The problem is that my family is extremely conservative, very religious, and not unexpectedly, very, very pro-life. Needless to say, this news will no doubt be extremely upsetting to multiple generations of my immediate and extended family, and which still includes some of her living children and my aunts and uncle. Oh man, OP, this is really sticky, and the fact that this is coming right after the whole like, Roe v Wade Supreme Court case is kind of crazy. Personally, I would say tell them because I'm generally in favor of all information being

out in the open, even if it's terrible information, information because I mean if they want to know the answer then this is the answer. Today I F.D. by opening my boyfriend's roommates bedroom door. Four years ago I started seeing a guy who worked in the same industrial park that I did. He was 28, I was 21. After a few dates I visited his apartment in a building nearby to watch some movies. When we arrived, he showed me around. The bathroom, his bedroom, the living room, etc. Then, there was another door. He told me that he recently let a friend stay with him

between places that he's currently in the process of moving out and to not go in there. Okay, cool. Got it. Never thought about it again. This isn't my apartment. I don't care what's going on behind there. Things were going well between us. We kept it casual, seeing each other once or twice a week. We kept this casual pattern for a few months, and the relationship grew into a more comfortable partnership. I started staying over more often, and began wanting to do my part in keeping the house tidy. He was always adamant that I never lived a finger and did all the dishes himself. He got me every drink, every snack, did all the vacuuming, etc.

One day after work, I wanted to surprise my boyfriend with a home-cooked three-course meal. I was off work an hour before him. He was aware that I was going over to his place to wait for him, but he didn't know about the dinner. I went shopping and lugged all the groceries up three stories. I was aware that I was going over to his place to wait for him, but he didn't know about the dinner. I went shopping and lugged all the groceries up three stories. When I arrived, he wasn't home yet, but I did have a key that he gave me weeks to go

to let myself in. The fridge was surprisingly bare. There were a few dirty dishes on the sink and a few clean ones on the drying rack. I took it upon myself to wash the dirty dishes and afterwards put the others away. I started opening cupboards to familiarize myself with the layout. That was my first mistake. If the cupboard wasn't entirely empty, it was filled with garbage. I mean, take out bags, junk food wrappers, empty containers, and dozens of pizza boxes.

Almost hundreds! Out of like 16 cupboards, only four held pantry items in kitchen utensils. The rest were either empty or they look like a Tetris game made of garbage. Needless to say, I was overwhelmed. It didn't smell like rotten food and there were no signs of something like this, but I felt like I was blindsided. It made me question everything that he ever said to me. I remembered the first few white lies that I caught him in, and the big lie about his father's suicide attempt, which was confirmed by a sister to be entirely fabricated. Suddenly, I remembered the roommate story.

Since we met, I hadn't heard a single thing about his former roommate. Not a story, not a name, not anything. So obviously, that's my next step. Did I feel bad about it? I was crossing a boundary, sure. But at this point, the entire relationship felt like a million miles away. It felt like it was all built on lies. I felt betrayed, and a little stupid. I knew that I'd hate myself if I found out later, so I opened the door to the spare room. Yep, mountains of garbage. Mountains with a path. Each corner was a mound of empty pop cans, bottles, pizza boxes, and garbage bags. Zero furniture. Just a million

pieces of garbage and the smell of mold. I could barely see the floor. This was the same kind of garbage that filled the kitchen cupboards, not the kind of garbage that a roommate would leave behind months ago. I felt bad for him. Obviously, he had something going on mental health-wise because this was not something that normal people do. I just went on about my evening. I waited for him, made dinner, and brought it up gently at the end of the day. I hate confrontation. He was immediately upset, screaming and crying,

and attempting to gaslight me into thinking that I was in the wrong. He tried to tell me that I was the cause of throwing him into a hissy fit, and that none of this would be happening if I didn't want to be considerate and make him dinner. He said that it's my fault for finding it, not his fault for hiding it from me. It ended with him crying and refusing to talk to me. This was my easiest break up ever.

And yeah, there were two sets of dumpsters on the property. Two for Garbridge and four for recycling. Today I have to buy accidentally stealing my neighbor's mangoes and they've been trying to catch me for a month. I've been in lockdown in Shanghai China for two months. During the first month, residents were basically under house arrest, unable to leave the house to buy groceries. So my neighbors organized a group by where the entire building ordered food together. One day, as usual, I snuck out of the building to hang out with friends in a different district. I came back around 11.30 pm and saw a basket

on the front desk with a couple of mangoes in there. I thought they were up for grabs because they were in an open Styrofoam fruit box looking half empty, so I took someone went back to my room. The third day, a friend living in my building came to visit, and he said the group by chat was trying to catch a mango thief. I freaked out and went back to check the group chats. Someone said she bought a box of mangoes couldn't find them, asked if someone mistakenly took those and five minutes later another guy. Let's call him detective said let me go check the security camera. The guy went to check hours of footage from two security cameras in the lobby,

then uploaded screenshots and videos of me taking those mangoes to the group chats. Jesus! The good thing was, because I was sneaking out of the building, I tried to keep a low profile by wearing a beanie, a gigantic mask, and an oversized jacket. The hallway was very dark anyways, and even my mom wouldn't be able to tell that was me. The bad thing was that it made me look like a thief. Also, three days had already passed, and I kinda ate all the mangoes already. So, Detective Guy went back to check five hours of footage of the camera at the main entrance from 6.30pm to 11.30pm. Again, because I was sneaking around, I wasn't shown on this footage.

Then, the detective guy in his neighbors, who were obviously bored to death, started speculating. They first thought that I was male because of the jacket and the beanie. Then, female, based on my shoulder-to-head ratio and the cut of my pants, apparently, that I live on floor 1-3 on the west side. I don't. That I must have gone back to the garage to grab something from my car before coming back to the building since I was carrying a bag. But I don't own a car and I need to the back to carry my PS4 controller and some games to my friend's house. That I must be an experienced thief because I went straight to the pile of mangoes and started putting them into my bag. For F's sake, I didn't know they were private property.

Anyways, in the past month, I tried to buy some mangoes to get back to the neighbor, but my order kept getting canceled, so I haven't succeeded. I went back to check the price of the entire box, and it was like $10. Last night, I got invited to one of the neighbor's places for dinner. We drank and talked about random things until Detective Guy showed up. He quickly started reviewing the mango case all over again, including the fact that he recently went back to the crime scene to reproduce my routes. So there I was, the mango thief sitting next to the enthusiastic amateur mango detective.

His next door neighbor who just didn't want to hear one more word about mango, another next door neighbor who's a police woman and an expert in theft cases, and the host who had no idea what's going on. Today I f'd up by trying polyamory. I'm a 27 year old girl dating a 27 year old guy. A few weeks ago, me and my partner broached the topic of potentially dating other people as well. We did the entire negotiation of setting boundaries, rules for making things work, hard limits on what's okay, etc. Great! I'm more interested in adding another partner to our relationship, but my partner wanted to try dating separately first, just to see. I'm a reasonable girl, so I'm game to try it, and after a few weeks of attempts, we set up our dates for the same day. I chose a friendly acquaintance from work, and he chose a hot random girl from Tinder.

We excitedly wished one another luck and hit it off to our respective dates. I meet up with my date, Mark, at a cute seafood restaurant for dinner. Things start off rocky. It becomes immediately clear that Mark has never been within six feet of a human woman. I'm doing all the talking, and he's staring at me intently and nodding his head in silence. I eventually run out of things to say because he isn't participating, and I start desperately looking at my phone, texting, browsing Reddit, anything to avoid the unbearable awkwardness. Eventually, Mark takes some initiative

and participates in the conversation and is actually telling me about himself. Whew, maybe he isn't actually a serial killer and it's just a little nervous. After some really fun and invigorating conversation, Mark then decides to drop all of his bombshells on me at random with no warning. He lets me know that he lives with his parents that he has a small body part and he enjoys playing with dolls. Okay, I didn't ask for any of this information, lol. I reassure him that these things are fine, probably, and kinda laugh it off as a weird joke that fell flat. At this point, I'm ready to flee, but Mark mentions in the

movie that I'd planned for us at my house after dinner. I begrudgingly accept because I'm a huge pushover, and I'm still holding out hope that Mark will surprise me and completely change back into the normal guy that I know from work. Obviously, you all know this didn't happen. As we're watching the movie, Mark tries to pull a move on me, and by pull a move, I mean startle me by basically jumping off the couch and ripping his pants down. I panic because one, there hasn't been any indication that I'm interested in passionate hugging with him at all. And two, he was actually so small that there was no way that I could passionately hug him even if I wanted to.

I'm not one to body shame at all and I've never cared about a partner size but I just don't see how it would be possible. So my body does- so my body just does what it normally does when I get into a state of panic. I immediately vomit. Just right into the floor. We're both frozen, staring at the vomit-covered carpets. I look him directly in the eyes and quietly tell him that I don't think dinner agreed with me and that he should probably leave. He does. My partner returns home a little later and he said that his date was also a bust. His lovely lady decided to pull out a baggy of cocaine on the drive home, and then turned on all the interior lights of his car so she can scoop up a spoon full using her special

coke spoon that was apparently decratively attached to her wallet. I'm just in shock, dating is tough. I'm thinking that we're not going to try this again for quite some time. Godspeed to all my single people out there. Oh man, Opie, that was a disaster, but I feel so sorry for the guy. Because from his perspective, he showed you his member and then you immediately vomited. So, God, that's gotta be a heavy blow to the self-esteem. Today I effed up by a miss using a whiteboard for one and a half years. I bought a whiteboard when I moved into my new and current house. This was supposed to be the ultimate PA stay resistance to my awesome new home office.

It took a few months to ship, and when it finally did, I was pretty unhappy with it. First of all, there was a big crack behind it, bending the metal in an unsatisfying way. But it wasn't that noticeable, so I didn't bother sending it back. The worst part though, was that it was nearly impossible to write on it without leaving ghost marks. And you can forget about leaving some writing on it for more than 24 hours. As a result, I wound up not using it for most of the last year. Basically, its only purpose was a magnet holder when it should

have been used for so many different projects. Today, since I finally had some free time, I looked into the process of cleaning my whiteboard and making it more usable. As I applied some store bought cleaner, I found this small tear and some kind of plastic coating. I freaked out, ripped it all off, and came to the horrifying conclusion that I spent 1.5 years writing on plastic. I now have a brand new, unused board that's been sitting in my office. Down in the comments, we have this story from Ratlight Goldfish. I work at a hardware store, and I once had someone return a stainless steel dishwasher because it came in blue and the finish was peeling.

I'm sure you can see where this is going, but I peeled a protective layer off to reveal the spotless stainless steel underneath. He-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-he- content be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.