rSlash - r/TIFU I Flew Across the Atlantic to Get Dumped

Episode Date: March 26, 2026

0:00 Intro 0:06 Mole 2:30 Lesson 5:14 Stroke 8:24 Dumped 11:04 Snack 12:55 Cat Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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And contact Desjardin today. We'd love to talk, business. Welcome to R-slash Today I F F-Up, where O.P. performs surgery on himself at home. Today I effed up by cutting off a mole in the shower, and it survived. This happened when I was 15. I have moles all over my body, not covered in them, but enough. For some reason, one on my stomach annoyed me the most. It was slightly bigger than the others.

Not huge, not suspicious, not, oh God, it's cancer. It just stuck out. like a perfectly smooth plastered wall with one tiny pebble ruining the whole surface. So one day I'm standing in the shower with the water running and I think, what if I just cut it off? I've heard that people remove moles before. Remove means it can be done, right? Flawless logic.

I grabbed scissors, pinch the mole between my fingers, and started cutting it off piece by piece. Not all at once. Carefully, small cuts. Blood ran, but the shower washed it away. It felt like a budget operating room, steam, water, scissors, and a surgeon with zero qualifications. I cut off most of the dark part, a little remain, but I thought, good enough. At that time, I didn't even know that you're not supposed to mess with moles, that it's not just skin, that you can actually cause real problems. It healed, and then it grew back.

Not exactly the same, but it came back alive. I cut it again, and it basically said, Nah, I live here. Interact 2 of genius. A friend had acid for removing warts. I asked, what about moles? And he said, uh, probably. So I didn't just dab the acid. I poured it on my stomach.

And on a mole above my lip. And a little on my neck too, because why not go all in? The stomach healed, left a small raised scar, not dramatic, but permanent. My face, though, that wound took forever. ever to heal. I kept moving my mouth. I'd smile, it cracks open. Skin stretches, it tears. Blood again, repeats. And guess what? The mole didn't just come back. It spread around the edges, became bigger than before. I literally upgraded my own problem. Yeah, I didn't die, but in my country, we say, if you don't know the Ford, don't step into the river. Turns out, that applies to skin too.

Guys, I can't believe I have to give you this piece of advice, but don't perform surgery at home. Today I effed up by intentionally running out of gas on the highway to teach a lesson. My roommate forgets to send me his half of the bills every single month. It's always, oops, my bad, I'll get you Friday. And then Friday becomes next week, and then I'm basically floating 150 to 300 bucks until he feels like remembering. I've tried being chill about it. I've tried reminders. I've tried a shared spreadsheet. Nothing sticks. Anyways, this week he asks if I can drive us to a concert because his car is acting weird. I already know what that means. It means it has an

empty tank and a mysterious dashboard light that he's ignoring. I say, sure, but you're covering gas. He says, obviously. We drive 40 minutes, park, have a good time. He buys $60 of merch, but whatever, that's his money, I guess. On the way home, I glanced at the fuel gauge, and yeah, I'm lower than I thought. I pull into a gas station and say, hey, can you tap your card? He pats his pockets and laughs. Says he left his wallet at the apartment. I just stare at him. He says, it's fine, you can just do it.

I'll send you the money. Here's where I messed up. Instead of just paying and arguing later like a normal person, I decided to teach him a lesson. I say, okay, cool, and I get back on the highway without filling up. He's like, aren't you getting gas? And I'm like, nah, it's fine. It was not fine. About 10 minutes later, my car starts doing that little sputter thing. He's quiet. I'm pretending it's still fine. It is not fine. We roll to a dramatic stop on the shoulder at nearly 11.40 p.m. Now we're stuck on the side of the highway, in the cold with cars blasting past us.

And guess who suddenly remembers that his wallet is, in fact, in his other jacket. We had to call his sister to bring gas. She shows up furious because she has work at 6 a.m. While we're waiting, he tries to joke about it, and I just lose it. I tell him I'm done fronting him money for anything. No more floating bills, no more covering tickets, nothing. He gets home and he's saying I overreacted, and that running out of gas to make a point was childish.

He says I put us in danger, which yeah, I kind of did. Now he's sulking and saying I embarrassed him in front of a, his sister. I feel stupid right now because I absolutely could have just put 20 bucks in the tank and dealt with it later. O.P, sounds to me like your roommate could use a healthy dose of embarrassment. What a douche. How can he buy merch and then suddenly, oops, out of money. What a funny coincidence. You're right, man. I would have filled up the tank myself, kicked him out of my car, and forced him to walk home or get an even more expensive Uber. Today I effed up by walking off a stroke for a week. I'm a 21-year-old woman, and I was waiting in line in Dunkin' Donuts when very suddenly

the left side of my face went numb. This was weird because my normal paralysis doesn't include numbness and didn't often affect my face. I have a mystery medical condition of two years that causes my body to randomly become immobile. Anyways, I had an iced macha latte to order, and though it was difficult to speak with half my face immobile, I was a regular enough customer that the lovely staff were able to piece together what I was saying, and my macho was secured. I continued on with my day, going to classes and work. I'd been sick the week prior, and was wearing a mask to reduce the chance of infecting anyone else. The next day, my face was still numb, which was frustrating because I had to teach. With enough focus, I was able to enunciate my words well enough to be

understood by my students, and I was focused on completing a worksheet with them that they could read without my speaking. All was well. This pattern continued with me finding, ways to communicate with limited words for about a week, until I got sick of not being able to talk properly and finally went to urgent care. They sent me to the emergency room, gave me a CT scan, and they said, there's an area of blood on your brain that wasn't there before. What? How'd it get there? No clue. Will it go away on its own? Eventually. And then will I be able to speak again? Probably. I thought, great, I should get back to my dorm to study for an upcoming exam. But alas, they insist did I go to another hospital over an hour away for more testing. Thus began my two-night's stay in the

intensive care unit, followed by another three days admitted to the general hospital. I was going to be released after just one day in the hospital, but I had one seizure, and that delayed my great escape significantly. Here's where I screwed up. I had no idea until day four in the hospital that brain bleed means stroke. And even once I knew I had a stroke, I didn't know how bad that was. So I'd emailed all of my professors and bosses explaining that I wouldn't be able to come into work for a few days because I had a brain bleed and that I'd be in touch once all of my blood was back where it was supposed to be. I received so many get well soon baskets and hospital visits over the next few days and so many texts from people wishing me a swift recovery and offering me so many favors to aid in my

recovery. Turns out strokes are often lethal and I freaked out everyone I know with how nonchalantly I reference my apparent medical emergency. Moral of the story, strokes are bad, and if half of your face suddenly goes numb, that's a good reason to shell out and go to the emergency room. O.P., the most shocking thing to me is that not one person said to you, hey, you might be having a stroke, because is it not common knowledge that if half of a person's face goes numb and slack, and then they start slurring their speech that they're having a stroke? If you guys don't know this, listening to this video, those are major stroke signs. If half of a person's face goes limp, please tell the person that they're probably having a stroke. Today I effed up by flying across the Atlantic

to get dumped. I'm a 34-year-old guy living in Canada. I had a bad breakup from a long-term relationship in the fall of 2024, and I guess I was vulnerable. Maybe I still am. Four months ago, I went to London, UK for a friend's wedding for two weeks. While there, I hit it off with one of his wife's friends. There was a definite attraction. We went on a short two-day trip as well after the wedding, and we were like teenagers in love. Anyway, I had to return to Canada, of course, but I wished I didn't have to leave. We stayed in touch, texting almost every day, and calling occasionally too, and last month she asked me to come visit her. I was a bit tight for money, but still said yes because I wanted to see her. The days leading up to it, I saw less communication from her, but she reassured me that

she was just busy with work. I landed into London last week, checked into my hotel, and asked if we could meet. We met for coffee, and within five minutes, she says she can't do this anymore and doesn't really like me. I asked if this was because of the distance, and she said, no, she just wasn't feeling it. Then I asked why she couldn't just tell me this on the phone, and she said she never does that and felt like she owed me to tell me in person. Oh my God, I just left. I'd planned to be in London for five days, but got on a flight the next day. Since then, I've been pretty much in a state of shock, confusion, and frustration. I can't believe it. You know, Opie, this is like on a much, much smaller scale. Okay, to be clear, that what happened to you was way, way worse. But I remember one time

when I was working at the office job I had before I became a YouTuber. One time, my boss called me into his office to talk about a personal thing that was completely unrelated to me about my life. And afterwards, I was like, why did you call me into your office? for that. This is like my my personal matter thing. So shouldn't you come to me to talk to me about this? Because, you know, being called into the boss's office is, you know, a little bit intimidating. It can be scary sometimes. It's a symbol of authority. You should come to me. I shouldn't come to you for this. And then, you know, of course, what happened to O.P. is 10,000 times worse and much more expensive. This lady is rude. I might even go so far. It's to say that

That was a B-word move. What a genuine butthole that woman is. We have this story from Vickson Lion. I drove for three hours to see my boyfriend and he broke up with me. I immediately left, but my car broke down and I had to get towed. The poor tow truck driver had to listen to me cry all the way. You didn't eff up. That sucks that she did that to you. Today I effed up by eating a snack without researching it first. I noticed these pouches of mango-flavored jelly in a grocery store a few days ago. I figured I might as well pick one up in case I wanted a snack sometime.

I didn't recognize the name of the jelly, but figured it was something similar to a gar. I finished the little pack of jelly more quickly than I would like to admit. I kept watching YouTube for like 45 minutes lying on the couch, when all of a sudden I take a breath and feel a stab of pain.

I try to sit up and I get waves of pain radiating from my abdomen, which has become extremely rigid all of a sudden. I got up and the pain, and the pain got worse. I could feel my guts in a way that I never have before and never want to again. It felt like my stomach was going to explode. I tried to breathe in deep and felt my right lungs stopped filling, like it was a balloon inflating in a jar. I called my mom because I thought

this was the end for me. She told me to take some tums, which I was already popping by the time I called her. She told me it was going to be all right. I couldn't tell if I believed her or not. I thanked her for her help though. I decided to go on the internet to try to figure out what was going on. I searched up the name of the snack jelly I'd eaten, as it felt like this had to be related to the jelly. It was then that I found out what conject jelly is, and that it expands in your stomach, which is why some people eat it to make them feel full without eating a meal. Now, the low-calorie marketing on the pouch makes a lot more sense. I ended up finding a heating pad, and I've been sitting in silence with it since. I'm feeling slightly better now, but holy hell!

I thought I was done for. I've accepted that I'll be uncomfortable for quite some time. I understand these consequences are the results of my own hubris. And I'll be damn sure to do research on any ingredients I don't recognize before trying new snack foods in the future. Today I effed up by picking up a stray cat six years ago and accidentally letting him become my entire emotional support system. Six years ago, I found a stray cat under a car in a freezing parking lot. I hadn't planned on adopting anything. I was broke, busy, and barely taking care of myself. I only stopped because I heard a weak little sound that didn't even qualify as a proper meow. He looked terrible. Skinny, dirty, one torn ear, but he didn't run when I crouched down. He just stared at me like he was too tired to care

anymore. I bought the cheapest can of cat food I could find and brought it back. He devoured it. And when I tried to leave, he followed me. Not close enough to touch, just, Far enough to say, don't disappear. So I picked him up and took him home just for the night. You already know how that goes. The vet said that he had probably been on the street a long time. Fleas, worms, scars. But he never scratched me, never hissed.

He just watched everything carefully, like he was learning whether his new life was real. Weeks turned into months, months into years. He became part of every routine. Morning headbutts, sitting next to my keyboard while I worked, sleeping on my chest like he was checking if my heart was still beating, following me to the bathroom like a tiny silent bodyguard. When life got rough, he was constant. When I felt alone, I wasn't.

Here's the screw up. I let him become irreplaceable. Today, he died. It was painful. I was there with him. No cold pavement. No hunger. No fear.

Just warmth and a hand on his head. The apartment is silent now. I keep thinking I hear him walking down the hallway. six years ago, I thought I saved a stray cat. Turns out, he was the one holding me together this whole time. O.P., if that is a screw-up, then every single person who adopts a pet and falls in love with the pet has also screwed up.

And I refuse to believe that because the dogs that I've had in my life were not screw-ups. They were noble animals who made my life better. That was our slash today I f-dub. And if you like this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day. Getting ready for a game means being ready for anything, like packing a spare stick. I like to be prepared.

That's why I remember, 988 Canada's Suicide Crisis Helpline. It's good to know, just in case. Anyone can call or text for free confidential support from a train responder anytime. 988 Suicide Crisis Helpline is funded by the government in Canada.