Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered

Someone’s Being (Bed) Framed!

, , , , | Related | CREDIT: Scarlet-absol13 | June 15, 2021

My aunt tends to go through cars like you wouldn’t believe and has just ruined her thirtieth car. Yes, thirty cars. My grandmother, her mother, offers to give her my late grandfather’s car since my grandmother no longer needs two cars. But that isn’t good enough for my aunt. She has her eye on an over-priced seven-year-old SUV with a ridiculous amount of miles, and because of her financial situation, she needs someone to co-sign to get a loan for the car.

My grandmother, who lost her husband not even two years ago, has no interest in co-signing for a “new” car that will probably die before it is paid off. So, at Sunday dinner one week, my aunt asks my father, her younger brother, if he will co-sign for her car loan.

Father: “No way in heck. If I co-signed for a car for anyone it would be for my sixteen-year-old daughter, not you. Take Dad’s old car.”

This triggers a major fight between my father and his sister, which ends in my aunt screaming:

Aunt: “If you won’t co-sign for my car loan, I’ll call child protective services because [My Name] is sleeping on a mattress on the floor.”

My bed frame broke not even a week ago so I am sleeping on a box spring and mattress on the floor until we can get me a new bed frame. None of us think anything about the threat, since my aunt has a habit of making empty threats when she doesn’t get her way.

A few days later, I get called down to the guidance office in the middle of a chemistry test for an “urgent matter.” When I get to the office, I am led into a small room with the school’s social worker and another woman.

Woman: “Hello, [My Name]. I have a few questions about your living arrangements.”

She asks me questions like, “What’s your home life like?” “How do your parents treat you?” “Are you happy at home?” and, “Do you have your own room?” It isn’t until she asks one more question that I start to mentally piece things together.

Woman: “How do you sleep at night?”

Me: “What is this about?”

Woman: *Hesitating* “We received an anonymous tip that your father is forcing you to sleep on the floor. We want to know what that’s about.”

And that’s when everything clicks and I am livid.

Me: “I’m not being forced to sleep on the floor. My bed frame broke about a week ago, so I’m currently sleeping on a box-spring and mattress until my new bed gets delivered. I’ll bet you any amount of money my aunt was the person who made that anonymous tip because my father refused to co-sign for her to get a new car.”

The woman from CPS looks stunned.

Woman: *To the school social worker* “Do you have any way of reaching her father to confirm this?”

Unfortunately, I have no idea what is said during that conversation since I am sent out of the room during the call, but it’s safe to assume my father confirms what I said. Once they get off the phone with my father, the woman and the social worker come out.

Woman: “I’m very sorry about this, [My Name].”

Me: “I understand. You were just doing your job.”

And I went back to class.

When confronted about it, my aunt admitted to making the call to CPS and my grandmother was FURIOUS. She made sure my aunt didn’t end up getting the SUV she wanted and she was forced to take my late grandfather’s 1998 Chevy Cavalier. Unfortunately, my aunt didn’t get in any legal trouble for the false CPS report due to it being an anonymous tip, but my father gave her a harsh warning about what would happen to her if she pulled another stunt like that again.

Unfortunately, Familial Support Seems To Be Fluid, Too

, , , , | Related | CREDIT: DazedMissile | June 9, 2021

I recently accepted myself as genderfluid. I haven’t come out to basically anyone yet except for my best friend and a small part of my family.

A few months ago, my grandma, who is on a walker and cannot move too much on her own, asked the family to visit. The health crisis was particularly bad in our area at the time, so most of us said no. A few days ago, we went finally to visit since the cases were going down, although I insisted on always wearing my mask, tried to approach people as little as possible, and did not touch other people’s stuff. And I got to see my cousins again.

I stepped out for a moment to talk to my best friend on the phone.

Me: “I’m a bit uncomfortable with what I’m wearing; I’m dressed a little more boyish today. I still look ‘normal,’ but my aunt’s kind of conservative, and she keeps saying stuff like, ‘You have such a nice body; such a shame you decide to act like a boy and not like the nice girl you are.’” *Sigh* “I wonder if one day she’ll understand that I’m no longer a girl.”

It turns out that my six-year-old cousin thought I was playing hide-and-seek, so he came looking for me and heard my last sentence.

I ended my call and walked back inside.


Me: “What?!”

Aunt: “You said you were no longer a girl! What are you then? A [potentially offensive word for trans people]?”

Me: “Well, not, exactly I—”


My uncle tried to calm her down; all her yelling must have been heard from the streets. He failed.

So, with no way to reason with her, I just walked away and texted my other aunt, who I live with, to pick me up and take me home. I haven’t spoken to anybody else on that side of the family yet.

No One Messes With My Sister But Me

, , , , , , , | Related | May 25, 2021

It’s my bridal shower, and my mom, my aunts, my best friend, my younger sister, and I have spent all morning getting it ready, snacking and taste-testing as we go. By the time guests have arrived and we’re ready to serve lunch, I’m already pretty full, and since I’m trying not to gain weight before the wedding, I opt for a mimosa and a plate of fruit. I spend the time chatting with my friends, several of whom I haven’t seen for years. I’m on the point of pouring myself a mimosa when I hear my fiancé’s aunt, in a just-slightly-too-loud voice, comment.

Fiancé’s Aunt: “Oh, I see the bride is drinking her lunch. Typical.”

Needless to say, I’m hurt, but I go hang out with my friends and try to pretend that nothing’s bothering me. I am not expecting that five minutes later, my sister would march the aunt, looking sullen, over to my table.

Fiancé’s Aunt: “…”

Sister: “You say it or you leave.”

Fiancé’s Aunt: “I’m sorry I was rude.”


Fiancé’s Aunt: “That was uncalled for. I know you spent all morning getting ready. I’m sorry for being rude when you wanted a break. I’ll be polite.”

Sister: Good. You’ll be polite or you won’t come to the wedding.”

I was deeply touched. My sister is almost a decade younger than me, and between sharing a room and having very different views, we fought far more often than we got along. When I left for college, we didn’t talk for almost two years, and I was not at all expecting her to come to my aid in this. I made it a point to sincerely thank her later, and we wound up talking sincerely for the first time in years. Five years into the marriage, we’re closer than we ever were growing up. I’m not sure what prompted her to be my knight in shining armor that day, but I’m now glad to call her my friend as well as my sister!

This story is part of our Best Of May 2021 roundup!

Read the next Best Of May 2021 roundup story!

Read the Best Of May 2021 roundup!

Washing The Misogyny Right Out Of Him

, , , , , | Romantic | February 22, 2021

When my aunt and uncle get married, around 1970, my uncle makes the unfortunately typical male assumption that my aunt will be doing all the housework, even though both of them are working full-time jobs as nurses. My aunt is a modern woman and is not happy about this. She decides to address the issue in a way that is still legendary in our family to this day.

One morning, my uncle is getting ready for work and wants to put on a clean shirt… only to discover that there isn’t a single shirt in his wardrobe, and he is running low on other items of clothing, as well. He goes to ask my aunt about it.

Uncle: “[Aunt], where are my shirts?”

Aunt: “Well, [Uncle], are they your shirts or my shirts?”

Uncle: *Puzzled* “Mine.”

Aunt: “Then why, pray tell, do you assume I would know anything about them?”

Uncle: “Well, haven’t you done the laundry?”

Aunt: *Pointedly* “And why exactly should I be the one doing the laundry?”

Uncle: “Well… you… I mean…”

My aunt gave her husband a good talking-to about how it was unfair of him to expect her to do all the housework on top of her job, just because she was a woman. He agreed to share the chores from then on, and their marriage was a very happy one after that. But my aunt did let him deal with the enormous pile of accumulated laundry to drive home the message.

This story is part of our Best Of February 2021 roundup!

Read the next Best Of February 2021 roundup story!

Read the Best Of February 2021 roundup!

Never Too Big To Be Grandma’s Little ‘Un

, , , , , | Related | February 3, 2021

My grandma has a habit of always referring to me, her only grandchild, as “the little ‘un”. When she is talking TO me, she just calls me by my name, or something like “darling” or “sweetie” — or “rascal” if I am misbehaving — but if she is talking ABOUT me, even if I am in the same room, she always calls me “the little ‘un”. This continues into my teenage years, and when I leave for university. I don’t mind it; I actually think it’s kind of sweet. But at one point, my aunt starts to think that I am getting too old for the nickname, and she has the following conversation with Grandma, which she later recounts to me.

Grandma: “Good thing the little ‘un is coming to visit this weekend; my radio is acting up again and she fixed it last time.”

Aunt: “Yeah, but Mom, seriously. [My Name] is twenty-one, at university, and living on her own, not to mention nearly a head taller than both of us, and neither of us is small to begin with. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped calling her ‘the little ‘un’?”

Grandma: *Smugly* “Nuh-uh! Doesn’t matter if she grows two meters tall and becomes a professor. She’ll always be my little ‘un!”

And she kept referring to me as “the little ‘un” until the day she died. I miss her.

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for February 2021!

Read the next Feel Good roundup for February 2021 story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for February 2021!