rSlash - r/Nuclearrevenge + r/Relationshipadvice - Husband Replaces Cheating Wife's Lube with POISON IVY JUICE!

Episode Date: June 14, 2019

This is the podcast of the following 2 videos: r/Nuclearrevenge Husband Replaces Cheating Wife's Lube with POISON IVY JUICE! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yozFJpPcbHs  r/Relationship_Advice "My Boyfriend Found My P**P Sock" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYTgz5XI4YQ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

So you think you know sports? Points vet is the sportsbook for you, because we've got the features for true competitors, like live, same-game parliers. Use your sportsmarts to make picks live on the players and teams you're watching, and qualified vets can use our early cashout feature, so you could take your winnings to play live blackjack

on the same points vet app, the platform that gives you everything you need. You know what to do. Bet on it. Point Spets Sportsbook and Casino Welcome to R-Slash Nuclear Revenge, where a husband replaces his cheating wife's lube with poison ivy juice. Also be sure you stick around to the end of the video because I have a very special clip

at the end. Our first reddit post is from Dostinko Uno Pinko. That username doesn't make any sense to me. There's no such thing as a pink Uno card. Anyway, this story is about 12 years old. Sorry, that was a really stupid joke. Okay, this story is about 12 years old. I told it to one of my co-workers yesterday and he said I should share it to Reddit.

Today he again nudged me so here we, having drinks before the 4-day weekend and my writing is complete. So, first time here, and hi y'all. In college, I met the woman who I thought was my one. We dated for about 2 years and had a big wedding after a 10-month engagement. Her family was pretty well to do in a small southern town. We were both continuing our education, and I was also working to support us. I was pursuing a master's in engineering, while she was finishing her doctorate in anthropology. Over the summer, an opportunity came up for her to make some extra money going as an aid

on a religious studies trip to Jamaica. I didn't hesitate when she asked me about it. I mean, she was going to get to visit Jamaica and get paid for it. I saw no downside, other than missing her being at home for six weeks. Little did I know at the time, but she had been passionately hugging the professor. He had hung out with us, smoked my weed, and drank my effing beer. I considered him a friend. Who arranged the trip for a couple of months and it was a getaway for them to bang all over the island? I, Clueless and Happy, spent those weeks while she was gone taking extra shifts so I

could match what she made in our accounts and surprise her. What a moron, right? One of the students from the trip actually seeked me out to clue me in. I didn't believe him until I started looking for evidence on my own. I broke down and checked her texts while she was sleeping and nothing was there. There were a few voicemails, so I decided to listen, and there it was. So I decided to listen and there it was. A message from that giant butthole saying how exciting it was that I almost caught them. I opened up her laptop and hit the emails after that. It was piles and piles of this stuff, making fun of me for not knowing, hugging passionately

in our bid and laughing about it. There was so much, and I was so heartbroken. Still too hurt to take any action, I was lost. I had no idea what to do, so I sat on it for a couple of weeks and acted as normally as I could. I noticed everything now. I felt so stupid for not seeing it before. So many signs.

One stuck out in particular. I noticed that our stash of homemade weedloob, if you've never tried it, I'd highly recommend giving it a go, was going down even though we weren't hugging passionately. It was obvious they were also using the fruits of my labor to get off more effectively. This really pissed me off, like unreasonably so. Hulk effing mad. It finally all hit me.

I was a freaking joke to these buttholes and they were using the lube I made and hugging passionately in my bed. I didn't hurt anymore. I just wanted to make them hurt. So while she was studying at the library, I made a new batch of lube. I put enough wheat in it for it to smell like normal, but I also added some poison ivy from our backyard to the mixture, and after refilling this fray bottle we used for application, I waited. A few days

go by and I'm working extra so I can be out of the house more, and bam, bait taken. That night after she goes to sleep, my plan goes into action. I sneak her phone away and delete my contact while replacing his phone number in her contacts as mine. I go to bed, but can't sleep because it feels like I'm five and tomorrow is Christmas. Don arrives and she's in the shower. I get a text. I'm super itchy. Are you okay? Now, Lord.

Now is my time. I text her back. Look, I thought it had cleared up, but I guess I had a flare-up. I'm sorry, but I've got herpes, and I guess you do now, too. I heard this girl squeak in the shower. I'm covering my mouth nearly losing it. I went on to text her as the professor. Then it was time to end things now. A new semester was about to start and I kind of have a little crush on another TA. I wanted her mad. This is a woman that never got told no growing up and never had to deal with rejection.

Let alone from a balding dude in his 50s with herpes. When she got out of the shower, it was obvious she had been crying, but I could see the anger in her eyes. I could see how uncomfortable she was, squirming at the table, drinking coffee, and mulling the situation over. Another little nudge is what she needed. Though reply she got to her pages and pages of anger and sadness was. Thanks for the good times, but can you keep this a secret between us? I don't want to ruin my chances with anyone else. She's flush with anger now, just seething. She gathered her keys and headed out the door without even saying goodbye. I knew where she was going. I booted up her laptop and set it to reformat,

deleting her dissertation, and any notes pertaining to it before following her to campus. I parked a few lots over and rush over to his office where I find her screaming at him for giving her herpes. There's a lot of people there. Professors, aides, students, other faculty. I'm dying. He is beyond embarrassed and confused as anything. She is ugly crying in front of her peers. I'm in heaven. I didn't even care that people were going to think I had herpes too. The Fallout was apocalyptic in their department. He lost his job due to code of conduct at the university. We got divorced the following year. The state law was that we had to be separated for one full year before being granted a divorce.

I got to keep most of the assets, primarily savings and not a ton, but I worked for it. She never finished her doctorate and went on to be a perpetually pregnant housewife that sells Herbalife on Facebook and he teaches high school now. It took a few years for it to all unfold, but watching it was glorious. So my viewers and listeners, here we have it. This is the actual origin story of all those Facebook hunts who are selling MLMs games. Our next Reddit post is from Isaiah Clark 7-6-8-8. This isn't my story, but it comes from my dad and other family members who witnessed it.

Background. This all went down in the late 1970s when my dad was 17. The area he grew up in was in the UK and was a stereotypical working class town. The part of town my family lived in was run down, full of poor families and had its fair share of crime. But it was close knit and everyone knew everyone. This will be important later. Now my dad wasn't the most well-behaved kid, and he had hated being at school. But, aside from a speeding ticket, he had never been in trouble with the police. He was, and still is, a really talented musician and had a very active social life. For a 17th birthday, one of his friends had bought him a leather jacket with a very specific logo on it.

We'll call this friend Dave for future reference. According to my dad, it was a rare and quite expensive motorcycle jacket. He was extremely happy that Dave got it form. Dave had bought himself the same jacket a while before and it was a big surprise. My grandmother apparently joked that with the jackets on, they looked like twins and she wasn't wrong. They had similar features, black hair, and were both well known for being kidded out in motorcycle gear. A few days after my dad's birthday, he was leaving work as a bartender in the town center at around 10pm, as he was getting close to where his bike was parked. A gang of five men approached him from behind. The last thing my dad remembers was being smacked over the head and passing out as he hit the floor.

These men beat up my dad with bike chains and a crowbar, literally two within an inch of his life. Luckily, two bouncers from a nearby pub had heard the commotion and rushed to help. The men ran off, the bouncers called the cops, and my dad was taken to a hospital. It turned out that Dave had quite a substantial gambling habit, and owed a large amount of money to people who you really didn't want to owe money to. They had threatened Dave and told him that they would be looking for him to teach him a lesson. So Dave decided to set up my dad to take the beating instead of himself, or at least lessen his chances of taking it.

He had bought my dad the same jacket because these guys knew that was what he wore when he rode. He then arranged for a guy he knew to find out when my dad left work and call up the loan sharks to let them know where Dave was. What a scumbag! The revenge! My grandfather and grandmother were obviously distraught about this whole thing. The first thought on my grandfather's mind was if my dad would survive. When that was answered, his second was how best to get revenge. Bit of background on my grandfather. He was a lifelong boxer and a career military man. Uh oh. He enlisted at the back end of World War II at 17. Stayed in the

forces through Korea and then served in Malaya and Burma as a scout and sniper during the mid to late 1950s. He only reluctantly retired with- oh I'm so excited for this story. He only reluctantly retired when my dad was little and worked as an engineer after his discharge. The guy was a certified tough cookie, even into his 50s. And although he wasn't the best husband or father at times, he could never stand by and watch his family get hurt.

The first move my grandfather made was to call up every ex-service buddy, bouncer, Publand Lord, et cetera, that he knew, and even a few less than legit characters he knew from the pubs. In my town, word traveled fast. And my grandfather was well liked and had a bit of a reputation, so it wasn't long before he had the names and addresses of the five men who had attacked my dad. Apparently, these guys had been bragging about beating up a defenseless man from behind.

These guys were career criminals with violent reputations, but my grandfather really didn't give a flip who or what they were. My grandfather then called up a few of the most dangerous hardened guys he knew from the service. He explained to them what had happened, and they were all happy to help. One night, the group kicked in the doors of each thug and beat them to a pulp. All five of them. They knew that if they hit one, the others would hear about it and run, so they hit all five of them in one night. My grandfather knew that no one would call the police in the area

they lived in. Talking to the cops was a big call the police in the area they lived in. Talking to the cops was a big no-no in that area back then. So there was a little chance of being caught. All five guys ended up bloodied with broken bones, shattered teeth, and the requirement to be fed from a tube by the end of the night. One of them had to be put into a medically-induced coma. Of course, the police interviewed all of them in the hospital when they sufficiently recovered, but none of them talked. Both out of fear of my grandfather and fear that they would be labeled as rats, and nothing came of it.

But my grandfather wasn't done there. My grandfather used his connections in the clubs and bars to start spreading rumors about why they had been beaten up. Soon, it had gotten around that these five guys had effed up and had beaten up the wrong person. Not only that, but they had bragged about it and lied to whoever they worked for about it. Not only were they physically broken, but my grandfather ruined their credibility so that when they got out, no one,

Criminal or otherwise, wanted to be associated with them. Once this was all done, my grandfather turned his attention to Dave. He had specifically left Dave for last, knowing that he would soil himself, knowing that my grandfather knew what he had done. Knowing that he would soil himself, knowing that my grandfather knew what he had done, my grandfather, however, was much more subtle in dealing with Dave. As he thought that a simple beating would be too good for him, he waited and asked around, and it turned out that Dave was not only a compulsive gambler, but also had recently turned into a heavy drug addict as well.

My grandfather found out who he was buying drugs from, when he would usually buy and where. He had a buddy of his, followed Dave when he went to buy his stuff, follow him to where he was living, and let my grandfather know. My grandfather then called in an anonymous tip that there was a huge drug deal going on at the address and he thought he heard gunshots. He got two of his buddies to do the same. The police investigated, searched the house and caught Dave Red handed with boatloads of drugs in his home, as well as counterfeit bills and a ton of other illegal stuff.

Dave was charged, denied bail, and ended up pleading guilty to all the charges laid against him. My dad could never remember the exact sentence, but it was definitely heavy, at least 15 years. To add to that, Dave owed a lot of money to a lot of people, and let's just say his time in prison was made much worse by this fact. My dad never spoke to him again, his parents disowned him, his girlfriend dumped him, he struggled to get a job with his record, and when he got out, he had to move miles away as no one knew what had anything to do with him. My dad eventually recovered from his injuries, although you can still see various scars on his

body from the beating he took. My grandfather never told anyone what he had done until his dad asked him about it when he got really ill in the early 1990s. Dave's life was ruined, and out of the five who attacked my dad, three ended up in prison later in life, and two ended up dead due to crime. My grandfather passed away in the late 1990s, and although my dad and him had their issues, it could never be said he didn't look out for him when he needed it. This is the gen- that grandpa is literally from the generation that took down Hitler.

What do you think he's gonna do to a more and with a gambling problem? That was our slash nuclear revenge. We'll be back with more our slash content right after this short break. Welcome to our slash relationship advice, where OP asks the question, babe, why are my socks covered in poop? Our first Reddit post comes from what to do bedroom. I think my girlfriend has been using my gym socks to wipe after going to the bathroom. I don't even know where to start with this.

I'm dumbfounded. She just stormed out of the house and I'm sitting on the bed asking myself a lot of questions. I live a pretty normal life and I thought so did my girlfriend. We've been together for a few months and after things got serious we moved in together. We started sharing a lot of the household responsibilities, but the one thing she was adamant on doing was the laundry. She would come home and find me in the bedroom getting the laundry together and would quickly ask me to go do something else.

I'd come back to finish the laundry and she would have already started it. I always thought it was sweet and never heard her job to do it alone, but hey, if it makes her happy to do it all the time, I wouldn't stop her. This is where it takes a turn for the weird. I keep all my socks and underwear in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I also go to the gym frequently, so I always keep a good supply of clean gym socks ready to go. I never keep count, but I know by just a visual glance I have several pairs.

This morning, when I went to grab a fresh pair to pack for the gym, I noticed there were several dress socks, but no gym socks. Again, not weird, they must have just been in the laundry. I went to check the laundry basket and it was empty, so I checked the washing machine and dryer. Both were empty. I couldn't figure out where all my gym socks had gone, so I did the very natural thing of asking my girlfriend what happened to them. After all, she's the one who does the- Oh my god, this story's ridiculous, you guys are in for a treat. Phew, after all, she is the one who does the laundry all the time.

She went silent, turned red, and ran out of the room. When I went after her to see if she was okay, she wouldn't talk to me. I told her I wasn't mad. I was just looking for my socks. She kind of mumbled. I don't know. I still wasn't mad, of course, but I was super confused. Socks just don't disappear. So I asked her again, even laughed about it, and she just looked at me and got mad and said, I'll buy you new ones. The first thought that went through my head was she had somehow managed to destroy the socks while washing them. I thought the sight of that was actually pretty funny, so I joked with her about- so I joked with her about ruining my socks. Wrong thing to say.

She started immediately crying, like full on sobbing. At this point, I don't care about my socks anymore. I want to know what's wrong with my girlfriend. I sat down next to her on the bed and put my arm around her and asked her if she was okay. She just kept saying she was sorry and that she would buy me new socks. I tried assuring her again it was okay. Even went so far as to say I would buy new socks and she didn't have to. I sat with her for a few minutes trying to calm her down and eventually had to get ready for work. I told her

I loved her and got my things together to leave for the day. You're flying to meet with a new supplier to keep your business growing. And with the business platinum card from American Express, you can earn $820 in new value and more, which includes a $200 travel credit toward your flight. Now a boarding business class. American Express, don't do business without it. Terms and conditions apply as it mx.ca slash business platinum. It's hockey season, and you can get anything you need delivered with Uber Eats. Well, almost, almost anything.

So no, you can't get a nice rank on Uber Eats. But iced tea, ice cream, or just plain ol' ice? Yes, we deliver those. Golden tenders no, but chicken tenders yes, because those are groceries, and we deliver those too. Along with your favorite restaurant food, alcohol, and other everyday essentials. Order Uber Eats now. For alcohol, you must be legal drinking age.

Please enjoy responsibly. Product availability varies by region. See out for details. On my way out, I grabbed the garbage to take outside. When I got outside, I lifted the lid off the garbage can, and I noticed a small plastic bag sitting on top of the garbage already in there. I could see through the bag, kind of the semi-seat through ones, that there were socks in the bag. Since I was sure she had somehow managed to ruin the socks washing them, I wanted to see for myself. I opened the bag and immediately

regretted my choice. There, inside the bag were several pairs of my gym socks covered in what looked like poop. As soon as the smell hit me, I knew it was poop. One, we don't own any pets. Two, we don't have any kids. Three, whose poop was on my socks? Where could we? I couldn't go the rest of the day wondering why my gym socks were covered in poop and inside a plastic bag in the garbage can.

I grabbed the bag and walked back inside. As soon as my girlfriend saw the bag, she flipped out and started yelling at me. She said I shouldn't be going through the garbage and then I was disgusting for bringing it back into the house. I asked her to calm down and then I just wanted an answer as to why there was poop on my socks. I wasn't blaming her of anything, but she started accusing me of blaming her. That's when it clicked. I don't know what it was that led me to ask this, but everything leading up to this moment had just

been so crazy. I asked her, is this your poop? She started sobbing again and ran out of the house. I didn't go after her this time. So now I am sitting on my bed with a bag of poopy socks on the floor and a lot of questions in my head. The only conclusion is that she used them after going to the bathroom, which that alone has its own set of questions above everything else. I sent her a text asking her to come back. She hasn't responded yet. I don't even know what I'm going to say when, and if she gets back.

Update. Thank god there's an update. I had to leave for work and I'm now at work. Yes, I threw away the bag of poopy socks. She texted me back and she's clearly embarrassed, but felt she owed me an explanation. She said she didn't want to talk about it in person and that we could discuss it over texting and to not bring it up in person. I'm condensing the conversation and filling in some gaps as best I can.

Her responses are super short, but I'm getting the idea. I flat out asked her if this was a fetish. It's not a fetish. She confessed to using the socks after going to the bathroom. I found the reason she always does the laundry is because she was hiding the fact that she uses socks to wipe with, primarily her own. I had no reason to question the amount of socks she ever has, because who pays attention to that kind of thing?

She thought I would notice and think it was weird since she doesn't own many socks. She admitted she's done this for a long time. Her reasoning, as best as I can understand, is that because she's a germaphob, her word. And she is afraid that the toilet paper will tear and is afraid of getting her hands messy in any way. She uses socks because it covers her entire hand. After she's done with them, she throws them away. She used mine because she didn't have other socks. So my girlfriend has a fear of getting poop on her hands so she wipes with socks and has

done so for a long time. It could be worse, I guess. I hope we can all laugh about this later. I'm trying to find the humor in it now, but I'm still weirded out. And then we also have the text messages. I'm sorry you're embarrassed, I just want to know why, can you help me understand that? Can we just not? I'll agree to not bring it up again if you can explain to me why you didn't just use

toilet paper. Like are you okay? You have to admit it's kinda weird. I'm going to bed, frowny face. I'll make you a deal. If you just tell me now, I won't bring it up again. Please, you said that already. I don't wanna talk about it.

Babe, there's poop on my socks. My socks of all things. That alone deserves an explanation at the very least. I don't want it on my hands, it's gross, I'm sorry, never bring it up again. Can you just go to Jeff's tonight? Since this subreddit is relationship advice, I can give you the winning advice right here. Buy your girlfriend a bad day. Seriously, I have two in my house and they're amazing.

It feels like waterpicks these are dancing on your butthole, and you can buy one for like a hundred bucks, they're seriously not that expensive. With all the money your girlfriend is spending on socks, you'll basically pay this thing off in like a month. Our next reddit post is from Significant Cupcake. Hey everyone, I don't know what to do in this situation because I never expected I'd face something like this. I'm trying to stay calm and rational and examine every possibility but I'm coming up seriously short here.

I met my wife on Tinder at the end of 2015. We talked on and off for some time before she agreed to meet me. By the end of our first date, we found that we had so much in common that we even agreed we should have made it a lot earlier. We were both into the same sport, we were both into the same books, and we both saw eye-to-eye on social political matters. More than anything, we were both against the idea of having kids. I know, heavy topics for a first date.

We were on a roll and just kept talking, and before we knew it, we were three or four dates ahead of the curve. At the very least, I held off on telling her about my vasectomy until the third date. Her immediate reaction upon hearing about it was an instant of shock, where she couldn't believe a young guy would get one. She immediately followed that by commending me for my conviction about being child-free. We dated and had a great time with few real arguments, and eventually settled down with a big wedding and a big house. After getting married, if anything, our relationship has only gotten better.

Four nights ago was the first time I ever had any serious doubts about our relationship. My wife was out with a friend, and I was doing some house cleaning. I was throwing away a bunch of semi-large garbage to confidant abags, and so I took a few things out of the kitchen garbage bag to make everything fit into two. At the bottom, I saw a light purple box where half of a lower case and an uppercase B were visible. I immediately recognized it for what it was, and reassembling the torn pieces just confirmed it. I had known that my wife was on her period because when I tried to initiate passionate hugging, she told me so. I found it odd because her previous period had ended just a couple

of weeks before, and I made a comment about the timing being odd. She told me it's just lady stuff, and it happened sometimes. I figured it made enough sense and let the issue rest. I haven't told her that I found the box. When she got home that night, everything was so normal. I tried to gauge how she was feeling or if she seemed like she was trying to hide anything, but couldn't find a single thing. The more time this simmers inside of me, the more the possibility starts springing to mind. What if she was assaulted?

What if she was covering for someone else by bringing the box home and disposing of it here? What if she, for some reason, just felt pregnant randomly? Or what if she just cheated? I only know one thing for certain, unless someone broke into our house to dispose of a box of Plan B and cover it with a bunch of other trash haphazardly, she was the only person other than me who could have thrown it away. I don't even know how to ask her or how to bring it up.

We have both expressed adamantly that cheating is ridiculous, because if you're dissatisfied enough in a relationship to be unfaithful, you should just leave. I've done nothing to displeaser at least that I know of. Maybe I'm just naive, or maybe the situation is more complicated than I'm giving a credit for. But I feel like a coward for being unable to bring it up four days later just because I don't know how. And then OP posts unupdates. After making my original post, I combed through all of the comments to find reasons as to why she might have torn up a plan B box and thrown it into the garbage.

A lot of them made sense. My greatest hope was that it might have just been old. Maybe it was before we even met. Cleaning to that, I hand-wrote a flowchart of all of the routes our conversation might take. I am awful with confrontation and considered every possibility before bringing it up. What I would say in response and what I would do, before bringing it up. What I would say in response and what I would do, I memorized them all. On the evening after I made my original post, I called her into the living room when she got home from the gym. As I had practiced, I asked her the following question, hey, I'm not accusing you of anything, but could you tell me why there was a torn-up plan B box in the garbage? the torn up plan B box in the garbage? The second the words plan B left my mouth.

She immediately looked like she had been punched in the stomach. She was completely lost for words. I already knew at that point. I retained eye contact and repeated my question. Why was there a torn up plan B box in the garbage? You know I had to bisect me. She just mouth breathed, looked at me, horrified, then she looked to the floor, then she started weakly sobbing.

This was not on the flowchart. I had no idea how to respond. I thought if I let her cry it out a bit, she might give me a real answer, but she just kept sobbing. Finally, I prompted her cry it out a bit, she might give me a real answer, but she just kept sobbing. Finally, I prompted her with another question. Are you crying because you did something you regret? She shook her head violently. I was so concerned because I thought something horrendous might have happened.

She abruptly shrieked. I'm crying because my effing husband doesn't even trust me. I have literally never seen a person that angry. Let alone my wife. So I prompted her again. Just tell me why it was there. You don't have to hide anything from me. She yelled at me again, repeatedly.

If you don't trust me, this marriage is hopeless. Eff you for not trusting me. This line of questioning repeated itself until she told me to get out of the house. I refused and said that until she was up front with me about why the box was there, I wasn't budging an inch. She then informed me that either I had to leave

or she would leave. Since I doubted she had anywhere to stay, her parents don't live anywhere near us. I agreed to go let us cool down and have a rational conversation like adults later. I went to my best friend's house, the guy who was best man in my wedding, and we got drunk and talked about everything but her. The following night, I texted her asking her if she was ready to talk. She wasn't. Instead, she gave me an ultimatum.

I had to one apologize. Two, promised to never bring it up again. And three, learned to trust her completely. Only then would she allow me back home. If I couldn't do all three of the above, she was done with me. I haven't returned home, and we have now been no contact for over two weeks. I'm wearing out my welcome at my best friend's house, who has been nothing short of amazing. I currently have a consultation with the lawyer arranged this afternoon. The lawyer will probably

tell me I'm an idiot for leaving the house and she'll probably be right, but the idea of ever stepping foot in that house again makes me sick to my stomach. There is legitimately nothing my wife could say to salvage this marriage. I'm entirely numb to her. What she's doing, who she's with, or anything else even tangentially related to her. None of my family members know what happened, and as far as they're concerned, we're still the happy newlyweds. I'm holding off on seeing anything until I'm calm and rational and won't do something I'll regret in the future. So if there's one thing I'm learning from today's video, it's that when a guy asks a girl a

very innocent question and the girl blows up at the guy, it's probably because the girl did something wrong. Our next reddit post is from Purple Lawn 87. Okay, gonna keep this short because I really don't know what else to say. I've been together with my boyfriend for three years and he moved in with me last year. I was already living here for a year or so and developed a friendship with my lovely neighbor. She's retired and a really sweet lady. She basically knows everyone in the neighborhood and sits at home most of the day.

Today she came up to me and said that she had something to tell me, but that I shouldn't get mad at her. I told her I would never get angry with her and to go ahead. She said that when I've been gone, probably a late shift or when I'm visiting someone, I don't know. She's seen a woman come into my house and leave before I come back. I pressed her for more details and she said that as far as she knows, she's seen her come by three times and that she thought I should know. When she leaves, she hugs or kisses my boyfriend, and she believes she stays for at least an hour or two. I got some generic details about

her appearance, but nothing specific. Of course, alarm bells are going off in my head. There are no signs my boyfriend is cheating, and we've talked about how we would rather end things instead. He did start working overtime more, but I have a friend at his company who talked about this too, and he's bringing in bigger paychecks, so that adds up. I don't want to jump to conclusions. How do I approach this? What do I do and how do I confront my boyfriend?

I don't know anything for sure, and it could be anything at this point. I'm really freaking out right now. Then OP posted an update. I almost didn't make this post because I feel so stupid. But there were so many people who wanted an update, so why not? Thanks to everyone who gave me advice last time. The next morning, I decided to confront my boyfriend. I wanted the truth from him. I was very upset to say the least. So I asked him who the woman was that was coming over when I was gone. He looked kind of confused and then started juggling.

I asked him why he was laughing and that I wasn't joking around. He's been preparing to propose to me and one of my best friends came over to look at rings and talk about how and where he should do it. I felt really guilty for assuming that he was cheating, and even he admitted that it didn't look very good. He showed me some of the plans they had made and the text between them, but that he is going to change things up now that I know.

I kind of ruined the surprise, but oh well. I called my friend afterward, and she couldn't believe what happened, and we shared a few laughs. He's been working overtime to get me a ring, and I don't know how I missed all the signs. She only came over twice, so I guess my neighbor isn't that sharp anymore, lol. Looking back, it all makes so much sense. My friend has been low-key asking about getting engaged, what kind of ring I would like, etc. I feel really stupid and bad for assuming the worst, but my boyfriend doesn't hold it against me and said he would probably have handled it the same way.

I'm so happy that we're cool now. The thought of cheating was so tough on me I had already called in sick Monday. For anyone wondering, I already told him I'm going to say yes. I figured it'd be nice to end today's video on a positive note. Either that, or OP's boyfriend and her best friend have the best cover story for cheating imaginable. That was our Slash Relationship Advice and I am continuing my climb to 1 million subscribers. Please help me get there by hitting that subscribe button.