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Marilyn P. Perkins, 1100 S Broadway, Los Angeles, CA (2026)

10/17/2026

My SO and I bought our first house last year, and the boundary issue we dealt with slowly turned into a nightmare. During the final walkthrough, we noticed bikes, scooters, and sidewalk chalk scattered all over the driveway. We walked next door, introduced ourselves, and politely asked the parents to make sure the driveway was clear for the moving trucks.

They smiled and agreed, but dropped a line that became their favorite excuse. They told us the previous owners had always let their kids treat our driveway and side yard like a neighborhood playground. I tried to keep it friendly and diplomatic.

I said we were happy to be neighbors, but we needed our property clear and didn't plan on keeping the same arrangement. The day we moved in, the yard was clean and there were no bikes in sight. But by week two, the kids were back to digging holes in our side yard for ""fossils"" and leaving scooters behind our cars.

We went over again, staying polite but firm. We told the mother we were not the previous owners, and we didn't want the kids playing on our property. She rolled her eyes, laughed it off, and acted like we were just being uptight suburban stereotypes.

A few days later, they were back to drawing massive murals with chalk all over our concrete and riding circles around my parked truck. The disrespect was so blatant that we realized friendly conversations weren't going to solve the problem. So we drafted a formal letter stating that their children were no longer permitted to play, dig, or ride on our property under any circumstances.

We sent it via certified mail, just so we would have a rock-solid paper trail if things ever escalated. For a while, it actually worked, and the yard stayed peacefully quiet. Then came last Sunday afternoon.

I was out in the garage cutting some wood for a DIY shelving project. I had pulled my truck out into the driveway to give myself enough room to work safely with the heavy power tools. About twenty minutes into the project, I heard the familiar sound of kids laughing and bike tires skidding on my concrete.

I turned off the saw, walked out, and saw their two kids doing laps around the back of my truck. I kept my voice calm but told them they needed to take their bikes and go straight home immediately. They pedaled off toward their yard without saying a single word.

I went back into the garage and turned the saw back on to finish my cut. Less than five minutes later, I heard a loud metallic thud followed immediately by a terrifying, high-pitched scream. I dropped my tools and sprinted out to the driveway as fast as I could.

One of the kids was on the ground clutching his arm in agony, and his bike was jammed underneath the rear bumper of my parked truck. Before I could even crouch down to check if he was okay, the mother came tearing across the grass. She didn't ask what happened or if her son was badly hurt.

She immediately started screaming in my face, accusing me of backing my truck up without looking and running her kid over. My SO ran out of the house to see what the commotion was, and the mother turned her rage on both of us, shouting that we were going to pay heavily for this.

10/17/2026

I've got a situation that happened this past weekend. I really need to know if I crossed a line. I've met this guy, Jordan, a few times because we share a mutual friend named Brandon. Our interactions haven't always been the smoothest, but we usually manage to get along for Brandon's sake.

I'd use the term ""mutual friend"" loosely here since they aren't exactly best buds, and Brandon only hangs out with Jordan because their moms happen to be best friends. He's often obligated to invite him to stuff, but since they basically grew up together, Brandon considers him family in a weird way.

In the past, Jordan's made some passive remarks, but I didn't think much of it at the time. Brandon's warned me before that Jordan's a chill guy but tends to be very socially awkward. He often says things that come off as offensive without meaning to, so we just brush it off.

This past weekend, Brandon hosted a little party at his place for Wrestlemania. The whole gathering started out pretty fun. Everyone seemed relaxed. We'd been having a great time and chatting about movies before the main event began.

We talked about how unfair the studios treated Henry Cavill and how he was perfect as Superman, while also agreeing both Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie wouldn't be out of place as real-life superheroes. The vibe felt great until Wrestlemania actually started playing on the screen.

Once the matches began, things started to shift in a bad way. Jordan looked at the female wrestlers on screen and remarked how ""sad"" he thought they looked. He complained about how they allowed their bodies to look like that instead of being slim and delicate.

He claimed women have no excuse to not be built like Victoria's Secret models. According to him, their diets and workouts exist online on YouTube. He thinks anyone can pull it off. He even went further to say since most women don't look like Margot Robbie or Megan Fox, they must work twice as hard to look good. This guy really had the nerve to say all that out loud.

Brandon actually stopped him right there and told him he shouldn't say stuff like that. Jordan just shrugged his shoulders, acting like it wasn't a big deal. He stopped the big rants but kept making small comments about how buff the women wrestlers looked.

Later on, we ended up talking about Chris Evans and Henry Cavill again, and Jordan couldn't stop talking about how perfect they looked on screen. He kept going on and on about their impressive muscles, and without really thinking about it, I snapped back at him.

I just looked straight at him. I asked, ""Yeah, so why don't you look like them?"" Jordan seemed taken aback. He sat there speechless for a moment, looking like he couldn't comprehend what I'd just asked him.

He started to spew excuses out, saying he wasn't as tall as them nor was his body built like theirs. I smiled and told him that's exactly why all women can't look like Victoria's Secret models. He stayed quiet for the rest of the night, and things felt a bit awkward.

The next day, I got a text from Brandon saying he agrees with my point, but next time I should just let him handle Jordan. He insists Jordan doesn't mean to be offensive, but he still says the wrong stuff all the time.

While I agree nobody should be compared to anyone, I felt like Jordan needed to have a taste of his own medicine. I'm just tired of hearing guys put down women's bodies for no reason. It feels good to finally push back. Am I the jerk for asking him why he doesn't look like a superhero?

10/17/2026

Lindsay and I have known each other for a decade, but over the last few years, our closeness evaporated. We stopped grabbing coffee, our texts became infrequent, and we mostly just existed in the same peripheral social circles. The real distance started when my husband and I began a grueling, miserable fertility journey.

You figure out very quickly who your real support system is when you are failing cycles. Lindsay was decidedly not part of that system. One afternoon, while I was crying over negative tests, she sighed and told me she just couldn't picture me as a mother.

She added that not everyone is meant to be a parent, and that I should probably just make peace with my current life. I was too gutted to even argue. I just absorbed it and quietly stopped sharing anything about my medical journey with her.

Against all odds, we finally got the positive test we had been praying for. Every milestone felt like a massive victory. A few months in, my phone buzzed late on a Friday night with a massive paragraph from Lindsay.

She was clearly intoxicated, rambling about how she had worked as a nanny a decade ago and knew everything about raising infants. The text took a sharp left turn into cruelty when she explicitly said she would be a way better mother than I ever could be. She heavily implied I should look into giving my baby up for adoption.

I didn't even dignify that unhinged message with a response. I just restricted her access to my life, making sure she didn't get an invitation to my baby shower. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with her toxic energy.

When my boy was finally born, holding him washed away every terrible thing I had endured to get there. We gave him a very normal, traditional name that sits comfortably in the top two hundred lists. It carries immense weight for us because he is named after a beloved family member who passed away tragically.

Everything was going beautifully until a few weeks ago. I dropped a cute, sleepy photo of my son into a broader group chat that Lindsay happens to still be a part of. One of our mutual friends made a lighthearted joke about his serious expression.

She gave him a funny, exaggerated title based on his name, something innocent like ""James and the Giant Peach."" We were all tossing around laughing emojis. Then Lindsay's name popped up.

Out of absolutely nowhere, she typed that the nickname was awful. Before anyone could even respond, she followed it up by saying my child’s actual name was ""cringy af."" She declared that he was going to get relentlessly bullied as a kid.

I felt a massive spike of adrenaline hit my chest. After years of infertility, after her telling me I shouldn't be a mom, this was the absolute breaking point. I didn't care about keeping the peace anymore.

I typed back immediately, telling her that when she has kids of her own, she can name them whatever she wants. I added that since she does not have any children, she needs to back off and let me parent mine.

10/17/2026

Am I wrong for refusing to go to my boyfriend's friend's wedding because he hasn't booked anything with three weeks left?

In around July of last year, my boyfriend and I were invited to his friend's wedding in another state. We'd have to leave on June 12th, the wedding's on June 13th, and we'd be returning on June 14th. Very short trip.

It's currently May 22nd and literally nothing has been booked yet. For context, this is one of his friends from a previous job when he lived in another state. I've only met the bride twice and while she's really nice, we're not close and we don't really talk outside of occasional messages.

At first, I was completely willing to go and thought it'd be a fun little trip. But as time has gone on, it's become more unnerving because we've known about this wedding for months and my boyfriend has continuously put off planning it. The only planning he's done is deciding when we'd be leaving and when we'd be returning. I don't know if he's even scheduled off work for it but I'm not 100% sure.

Every few weeks he'll say ""we need to book tickets this weekend,"" and then it never happens. I asked him early on that since it was his friend and his plans, if he could organize the trip. I tend to end up handling and planning a lot of things for us so I wanted this to be his gig. I told him I'd help look and help pay of course, but I didn't want to fully manage it myself. He agreed. I love him but he can be very forgetful which is why I've told him to set reminders and I've also reminded him a few times over the past several months to book everything. I know I shouldn't have to.

Now we're three weeks away and no plane tickets booked, no rental car booked, he hasn't gotten dress clothes yet, and no wedding gift figured out. Nothing has been finalized at all.

I looked up prices myself out of curiosity and stress and flights alone for both of us are already around six hundred dollars plus, and with the rental car and everything else the trip will probably end up close to a thousand dollars for just a weekend trip. Money is already very tight for us because of this economy and because of vet bills. I'd also most likely have to pay for more than half of the cost since I'm the breadwinner.

On top of that, my cat has been really sick recently and there's a possibility he may have lymphoma. We'd have someone to watch him, but I've already been really emotionally stressed and uneasy about leaving him.

At this point, I honestly don't even want to go anymore because the closer it gets, the more overwhelmed I feel that this has become a last-minute, stressful situation after months of knowing about it. A worry is that if we don't end up going, I'll look like the bad guy because last year, we told them we'd be going. Ultimately, I'd be the ""decision maker"" in this situation as to whether I'm gonna go or not. I don't want the couple to think poorly of me but I also wouldn't wanna throw my boyfriend under the bus for his lack of initiative in this matter.

I'm not being dramatic. This has been months of reminders and nothing has happened. I'm not backing out for no reason. I just don't want to spend a thousand dollars on a last-minute trip that's stressing me out when I'm already worried about my cat.

AITA if I tell him that if things aren't booked by the end of the weekend, I'm no longer comfortable going?

10/17/2026

I’ve lived with my roommate for about a year and a half now, and up until this week, our arrangement was perfectly fine. We aren't really friends, just friendly in that superficial way you are with someone who shares a kitchen and a bathroom. We make small talk while brewing coffee, we respect each other's groceries, and we stay out of each other's way.

The most important part of our dynamic was the rent. I’m the one on the primary lease, so every month I e-transfer the total amount to our landlord. My roommate’s portion is exactly six hundred dollars.

For eighteen months, she has reliably sent me her share a few days before the first. I never had to chase her down for it, which is the gold standard for a roommate in my book. She always complained about how hard she had to work to make that payment, though.

She talked constantly about her grueling shifts, her unreasonable boss, and how she was constantly picking up extra hours just to stay afloat. I work remotely from the living room, and I rarely saw her leave the apartment. She’d sleep until noon, binge-watch reality TV in her sweatpants, and order takeout.

I didn't ask questions. I figured she must have been working graveyard shifts from her laptop in her room, or maybe doing some kind of freelance gig that didn't require putting on real shoes. As long as the six hundred dollars cleared my account every month, her schedule was none of my business.

When we first moved in, her parents drove up from a couple of towns over to help with the heavy lifting. They were incredibly sweet, practical people who brought a toolbox and insisted on fixing a loose cabinet hinge before they left. Her mother gave me her cell phone number on a sticky note, telling me to keep it just in case of an emergency.

I stuck it on the fridge and promptly forgot about it. I never had any reason to use it until yesterday afternoon, when that same number popped up on my screen. I was in the middle of answering work emails when my phone lit up with a long text from her mother.

She started by apologizing profusely for bothering me. She explained that she had been trying to get ahold of my roommate for two days, but that my roommate was apparently ""swamped at work"" and wasn't returning her calls. The mother was reaching out to me because she had a huge favor to ask regarding the upcoming rent.

She told me that her husband’s hours at his manufacturing job had been drastically cut recently. They were struggling more than usual, pinching pennies to get by, and she was terribly embarrassed to even have to ask. She wanted to know if I would be willing to let my roommate's rent be a few days late this month.

I was a little confused, because I didn't realize her parents were the ones footing the bill. My roommate had always spun this narrative of being a fiercely independent grinder who earned every cent she spent. But ego and pride make people lie about where their money comes from, so I brushed it off.

I texted her mother back immediately. I told her of course, it was absolutely not a problem, and that as long as the money was in my account before December, we were completely fine. I assured her she didn't need to stress, and I thanked her for giving me a heads up.

She replied right away, thanking me over and over again, saying I was a lifesaver and a wonderful roommate. She said they would scrape everything together by Friday at the latest. And then she sent one more follow-up message to confirm the logistics of the payment.

10/17/2026

I have a close friend who I normally meet up with around once a week for dinner. This will usually be hosted at my home.

She doesn't really have much space at her place, and I will usually be the one cooking. I actually really love cooking for people.

I'll usually prepare us dinner with a mix of pantry staples. I'll thoughtfully add a few nice things into my weekly grocery shop.

It's just a nice little break in the week, and we both normally really enjoy it. The issue recently arose when my friend quickly contacted me.

She told me she would have other friends happily visiting from abroad on the day we were set to have dinner. She understandably wanted to hang out with them.

However, she also really wanted to make our dinner. I suggested they could all just comfortably come with her, and I would happily cook for all four of us.

On the day of the dinner, I nicely asked my friend if they had any specific requests. She eagerly asked for a local dish that heavily features a steak topping.

I confidently said that would be perfectly fine. I told her I'd gladly get the cheese if the three of them could just get the specific steak they wanted for themselves to eat.

I'm an actual vegetarian myself, but I really don't mind respectfully cooking meat for my visiting guests from out of town. She happily agreed to the whole arrangement and quickly went shopping for her meat.

I even gave her some helpful suggestions for a good, mid-priced cut of steak. When they finally arrive, she immediately hands me the steak.

I quickly notice it's a very high quality one. I politely carry on cooking, and we eventually end up having a really great dinner.

I even opened some expensive w**e I'd generously bought for the dinner too. However, things got a little awkward right after they finally left.

I surprisingly received a text from my friend asking me to transfer her sixty-four dollars for the steaks. I firmly refused to pay her.

I pointed out that I hadn't even eaten any of it. I gently reminded her that I'd already generously paid for literally everything else.

She then angrily said her finances were super tight at the moment. I personally think she specifically bought a more expensive cut on purpose. Am I wrong?

10/17/2026

I spent a year meticulously planning the trip of a lifetime for my two best friends and myself, and one careless decision at the very beginning of it managed to ruin the entire dynamic between us. We'd been talking about this for months. The three of us — let's call them Jessa and Ellie — had finally aligned our vacation time and saved up enough to do something huge.

The itinerary was ambitious but perfect. We were flying from New York to London, catching a quick connection to Egypt for a week, heading up to Switzerland, and finally circling back through London to catch our flight home to the US. Because I'm the planner of the group, I handled the logistics.

I booked the shared accommodations, secured the inter-country flights, and mapped out the excursions. But I was also explicitly clear about the one thing I couldn't do for them. Months before departure, I sent the link to the UK's Electronic Travel Authorisation portal to our group chat.

I pinned it. I reminded them at dinner, and I texted them again two weeks before we flew out. I told them exactly what the website said: you need this approved before you travel, do not wait until the last minute.

Both of them hit me with a thumbs-up emoji and told me they had it handled, so I focused on finalizing our tours and packing my own bags. I assumed two grown women in their late twenties could manage a basic online form. That assumption lasted exactly until we stepped off our red-eye at Heathrow and walked up to the border control desks.

The agent scanned my passport, saw my ETA, and waved me through. Then he scanned Jessa's and Ellie's. I watched from the other side of the glass as the agent's face hardened, his hand coming off the mouse, and he asked them to step out of the line.

They hadn't done it. Neither of them. They had ignored every warning, assumed it was something they could just figure out upon arrival, and walked into a foreign country with zero documentation.

The border agents were blunt: they needed to apply on their phones immediately, right there in the holding area, or they would be put on the next plane back to New York. The panic set in instantly. We were supposed to be flying out to Egypt the very next morning.

Ellie scrambled to fill hers out first, her thumbs flying across the screen, and by some miracle, her approval pinged back within ten minutes. She was cleared. Then Jessa submitted hers, and we sat down on the hard airport chairs to wait.

An hour went by. Nothing. Two hours passed, and the reality of the money we had tied up in this started crashing down on me.

We were traveling on basic economy tickets. The thousands of dollars we had spent on shared Airbnbs and regional flights were entirely non-refundable. By the third hour, the terminal was emptying out around us, and Jessa was staring blankly at the floor.

The border agents kept glancing over at us, making it very clear that if she didn't get a green light soon, they were walking her to a departure gate. We had run out of time.

10/16/2026

I'm a nineteen-year-old woman, and my close friend happens to be the exact same age. She just got her driver's license about two months ago. I'm older by a few months and earned my license on my eighteenth birthday, so I've been driving longer.

This means I have well over a year of driving experience compared to her recent start on the road. I usually drive myself to work every day, and I make sure to follow the traffic laws carefully. I haven't gotten pulled over, and I haven't received any speeding tickets so far.

Yesterday evening, my friend, her boyfriend, and I went out for dinner together at a local restaurant. She offered to drive me home afterward, which worked out well because my Mom had our car anyway. After dinner finished, her boyfriend sat in the back seat immediately without saying much.

I found his seating choice a little odd at first, but I didn't dwell on it. I figured he just wanted us to sit together in the front seat for the ride back. When we started driving, the first thing I noticed was her questionable approach to a stop sign.

She didn't do a complete stop at the sign, which might not usually bother me if the road was empty. However, the intersection was busy, and she barely paused before gunning the engine to cross. The other cars were visible but fortunately not quite close enough to hit us.

I didn't say anything at that moment because we made it through safely, though I don't feel comfortable. Soon after, she needed gas, so we pulled into a nearby station to fill up the tank. This next part is exactly where I might be the as***le in this specific situation.

As we were pulling out of the gas station, my friend didn't look at all at the incoming traffic. She just sped out onto the road without checking, and we nearly got hit on my side of the vehicle. I physically flinched in my seat and yelled at her to watch out.

The other car honked loudly at us, but we kept on driving forward down the busy street. I immediately asked my friend why she didn't look before turning, questioning if she knew how dangerous her maneuver was. She was quiet, offered a soft apology, and kept her eyes focused on the road.

Even her boyfriend chimed in to agree that she didn't even look before pulling out. When we reached my place, she complained that I can't just yell at her while she drives. She claimed my yelling was more dangerous because it distracted her, but I told her that other car had the right of way.

I reminded her we all could've gotten hurt or killed if that driver wasn't paying attention. I told her passing her exam doesn't make her a pro, and I won't apologize despite her boyfriend claiming I hurt her feelings. Am I wrong?

10/16/2026

My freshman year roommate and I had exactly one rule about the expensive espresso machine I brought to our tiny dorm room, and last month I discovered exactly how she had been treating it behind my back.

When we moved in at the end of August, space was our biggest issue. We had a standard double room, two narrow beds crammed against opposite walls, and barely enough floor space to pace. I am not wealthy by any stretch, but over the summer I had saved up from my serving job to buy myself one really nice thing for college: a high-end, automatic espresso machine.

I knew daily coffee shop runs would drain my bank account fast, so I viewed it as an investment. My roommate, let's call her Chloe, was thrilled when she saw me unboxing it. She mentioned right away that she worked as a barista for a massive corporate coffee chain back in her hometown, and she immediately asked if we could share it.

I told her yes, with a single, firm condition attached. The machine is complex, it uses specific pods, and it requires a very particular maintenance routine. I told Chloe she was welcome to use it whenever she wanted, as long as she let me sit down and teach her how to properly operate and clean this specific model first.

She agreed instantly. She waved a dismissive hand, laughed it off, and said it wouldn't be an issue at all.

The first few weeks of the semester were a blur of new classes and adjusting to dorm life. I ended up using the machine sparingly myself. The specialized pods were expensive, and I was spending most of my days jumping between the main library and my lecture halls.

Chloe and I were on completely different schedules. She had early morning classes and I had late afternoon seminars, so we rarely spent waking hours in the room at the same time.

Because our schedules never lined up, we never got around to that tutorial I had asked for. I assumed that meant she hadn't been using my machine. I had set a clear boundary, and the pods I kept locked in my personal drawer didn't seem to be dwindling. Everything felt perfectly fine.

Then, about six weeks into the semester, the smell started.

It began as a faint, sour tang in the air when I walked into the room after a long day. At first, I assumed one of us had left a food wrapper in the shared trash can or that a damp towel was mildewing.

I took out all our garbage, propped the window open to get a cross-breeze, and sprayed some air freshener.

But by the end of that week, the smell had evolved.

It morphed into something aggressively rotten, a heavy decay that practically coated the back of my throat. Worse, it was entirely localized to my side of the room. I spent a Saturday morning tearing my living space apart trying to find the source.

I stripped my bed and washed every single piece of bedding. I emptied my mini-fridge, bleaching the shelves and tossing anything questionable.

Nothing worked. By Tuesday night, the stench was so overwhelming I was actually having trouble falling asleep. I lay awake in the dark, pulling my shirt collar over my nose, trying to pinpoint where the awful rot was radiating from.

The strongest wave of it seemed to be hovering right near my head. My bed was pushed tightly into the corner, and right next to my pillow was the low windowsill where I had set up my coffee station.

I sat up, turned on my phone flashlight, and swept the bright beam across the windowsill. There was nothing there but my notebooks, a clean mug, and my espresso machine. I leaned my face close to the sleek metal casing, sniffing the air. The stench was absolutely coming from inside the machine.

10/16/2026

My girl friends and I've always had a very close, affectionate dynamic when we hang out together. We always kiss each other on the lips and cheeks when we greet, part ways, or celebrate something. It's been normal for us, and up until yesterday, nobody has ever made it weird or said anything negative.

But yesterday, one of my male friends, who's really more of an acquaintance, saw me and my friend kiss. He immediately chimed in and jokingly called us le**os, which we initially just laughed off. I thought he was just making a harmless joke, but then he told us to do it again for him.

He was heavily intoxicated, but he was staring at us in a way that made it clear he was turned on. It felt invasive and gross to have our platonic affection sexualized like that out of nowhere. I told him to back off immediately and flat out called him a creep for acting that way.

He got defensive and a little mad, claiming he was just trying to have some innocent fun with us. I stood my ground and told him no, he was being a perverted creep and making us uncomfortable. He finally apologized but tried to make excuses, saying I should expect guys to crack jokes about girls kissing.

I refused to accept his half-hearted apology because he was just trying to justify his creepy behavior. I told him he should pray to his God and ask for forgiveness for being such a creep. That really hurt his fragile feelings, and now he's refusing to speak to me or acknowledge my presence.

I don't feel bad at all because he crossed a major boundary and refused to take real accountability. I shouldn't have to accept being objectified by someone I considered a friend, even an acquaintance. It's disgusting that he thinks our affection is a free show for his personal entertainment.

We shouldn't have to change how we show love to each other just to avoid the male gaze. He needs to learn that not everything women do revolves around turning men on or getting their attention. I'm glad he's giving me the silent treatment because it saves me the trouble of ignoring him myself.

I've always tried my best to be reasonable, but I've zero tolerance for guys acting like perverts. If he can't respect our boundaries, he doesn't deserve a place in our social circle anyway. I don't see why I should apologize for calling out his blatant disrespect and creepy comments.

It's just a really frustrating situation to deal with. I can't believe things ended up happening this way. You'd think people would have a bit more common sense.

It shouldn't be a crime to demand basic respect from the men in our lives. I'd rather cut him off than pretend his actions were just a harmless misunderstanding. I'm just tired of men feeling entitled to sexualize our friendships. Am I wrong?

Marilyn P. Perkins

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