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Joined March 2026
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S writes 📝 retweeted
Fellow Nigerians, please help save this baby. My coursemate’s baby is battling a heart condition, and the family is struggling to raise money for treatment. It breaks my heart to imagine what they’re going through.
Please, even ₦500 or ₦1,000 can help. If you can’t donate, kindly repost.
You can find her on Facebook as Christina Ijeoma Bassi to reach her directly and verify.
Please, let’s give this baby a fighting chance at life.
S writes 📝 retweeted
THE CHILDREN ASKED WHY I STOPPED WEARING MY WEDDING RING
My son noticed I’d stopped wearing my wedding ring before I told anyone we were separating.
I was 35.
My wife had admitted to an affair three weeks earlier, and I was still deciding what to do.
I’d taken the ring off one morning because it felt uncomfortable.
I left it on the bathroom shelf and forgot about it.
At breakfast, my son looked at my hand and asked where it had gone.
I told him I’d taken it off for a while.
He asked whether his mother knew.
I said we had some things to discuss.
S writes 📝 retweeted
My girlfriend once accused me of hiding something because I wouldn’t share my phone password. The question itself didn’t bother me as much as the obvious double standard.
Whenever we were together, she’d casually ask for my phone to look something up. At first, I didn’t care. She knew my password, used my phone to play music, and occasionally answered calls while I was driving.
But if I asked to use hers, she’d immediately pull it away and say, "Why do you need my phone? Don’t you have your own?"
I tried to laugh it off, but eventually it turned into a regular argument.
One night, while we were watching a movie, she asked for my password again. This time, I asked her for hers as well.
Her entire attitude shifted.
She called me insecure and said relationships shouldn’t be about keeping score.
I reminded her that she was the one constantly asking to access my phone. I wasn’t trying to read her messages or track what she was doing. I just wanted the same expectations for both of us.
She refused, then barely spoke to me for the rest of the evening......
S writes 📝 retweeted
His hands kept slipping lower during my private swimming lesson.
The chlorine smell hits different when you're nervous. Like it gets sharper, more chemical, and I remember standing at the edge of the lane during my third private lesson and thinking I should not be this aware of where his hands are.
He was my swim coach. Not like a school coach, more of a private instructor (my parents wanted me to improve my freestyle before college scholarships came around). He was in his early thirties, broad chest, tan from being poolside all day, and he had these hands. Big, square, calloused from years of gripping pool edges and lane ropes. I noticed them on day one when he adjusted my goggles and his thumb grazed my temple.
It started innocent. He'd put his hand on my lower back to correct my posture. Palm flat against my spine, fingers spread wide. Then during kick drills he'd hold my hips to keep them level and his thumbs would press into those little dips right above my waistband. And look, I know what coaching looks like (I've had coaches my whole life), but coaching doesn't usually make your stomach drop like that.
S writes 📝 retweeted
What She Did Next
I’ve known Naomi since we were fourteen, so when I say I missed it, I mean I missed it with a decade of practice.
I met Callum once, at her cousin’s birthday. Polite, firm handshake, held the door for my mum. I remember thinking, good for her. That’s what nobody tells you: the men who hurt people are rarely the ones you’d pick out of a line-up.
Over the next months Naomi went quiet in a way I mistook for happiness. She stopped coming to football on Sundays. Texts took days to answer.
When I asked, she said, “He’s just attentive,” and I let it go. What was I going to say? That I didn’t like how he looked at his phone when hers buzzed? I told myself it wasn’t my place.
I think about that sentence a lot now.
S writes 📝 retweeted
Half bread is better than none.
No be your mate get full loaf of bread?
Some even get bakery wey dey manufacture the bread.
So, because of half bread, you dey speak English.
Omo, people dey talk ooh.
S writes 📝 retweeted
昨晩、妻と一緒に入浴していたところ、妻がタオルを取ろうとして何気なく振り向きました。
彼女の裸の体を一見ただけで、脳が追いつく前に体が反応しました。 😂
私たちは何年も結婚しており、妊娠や出産、子育てに伴うすべての変化を経て、今では彼女に会うことに慣れていると思われるでしょう。
どうやらそうではありません。
私はすぐに、水温の調整に非常に興味があるふりをし、彼女に私の恥ずかしい反応に気付かれないようにしました。
彼女は私を疑わしげに見て、「なぜそんなに変に振る舞うのですか？」と尋ねた。
ほとんど失いかけました。 😭
既婚男性、正直にしてください。 奥様の裸を見ると、まだ胸がときめきますか—それとも、最も予想しないときに体がまだ驚かせますか？
S writes 📝 retweeted
Mon grand-frère m'a supplié de l'aider à cacher le corps de notre père, jurant que c'était un terrible accident de voiture et qu'il avait paniqué au volant.
Il pleurait toutes les larmes de son corps sur le bas-côté de la route de campagne, les mains couvertes de sang, me suppliant de le protéger de la prison.
J'ai cru à sa panique. J'ai marché dans les bois au milieu de la nuit, creusé la terre de mes propres mains, et aidé à enterrer notre propre père sous une pluie battante.
Pendant des mois, j'ai vécu dans la terreur, rongé par la culpabilité, le regard fuyant, ne pouvant plus regarder personne dans les yeux.
La semaine dernière, en rangeant le garage de mon frère, j'ai voulu déplacer son établi pour nettoyer.
S writes 📝 retweeted
My boyfriend’s friend touched my thigh under the table, and I slapped his hand away so hard that everyone stopped talking.
We were at a restaurant having dinner with his friends. My boyfriend was sitting beside me, talking to someone across the table.
At first, I felt something brush against my leg. I moved away, thinking it was an accident.
A few minutes later, it happened again.
This time, I looked down and saw his friend’s hand resting on my thigh.
I immediately pushed his hand away and slapped it.
Him: “Whoa! What’s wrong with you? I was only joking.”
Me: “Then joke with somebody who gives you permission.”
My boyfriend turned around.
Him: “What happened?”
Before I could answer, his friend started laughing and told him I was being dramatic.
But my boyfriend looked at me, noticed how uncomfortable I was, and asked me one question that made his friend stop smiling.
S writes 📝 retweeted
妻がこの世を去ってから、二人で暮らした家には、耳鳴りがするほど恐ろしく冷たい静寂が居座るようになりました。
四十年間、私は家のことを何一つとして妻に任せきりでした。不器用で頑固だった私は、彼女が甲斐甲斐しく世話を焼いてくれるたびに「うるさいな、わかっているよ」と鬱陶しそうに顔を背け、感謝の言葉すらまともに伝えたことがありませんでした。彼女はいつも少し寂しそうに微笑みながら、黙って私の背中を見送ってくれていたのです。
彼女が突然の病で帰らぬ人となった後。一人取り残された私は、電子レンジの使い方も、洗濯機の回し方もわからない、ただの無力で哀れな老人になっていました。
ある冷たい雨の夜。どうしても温かいものが食べたくて、私は見よう見まねで買ってきたお弁当を電子レンジに入れました。どのボタンを押せばいいのかわからず、途方に暮れて操作パネルを見つめた時。そこに、小さな黄色い付箋が貼られていることに気がついたのです。
Him: I'd like to speak to your manager.
Me: Of course. What's the issue?
Him: The issue is I asked for a manager, sweetheart. Not the receptionist.
Me: Understood. Give me one moment.
Him: Finally..Somebody who knows what they're doing.
I put him on hold, Counted to ten. Pressed the button again.
Me: Hi, this is the manager.
Him: ...Oh.
Me: What can I help you with today?
Him: Look, no offense meant.
Me: None taken. What's the issue?
Him: My refund. Three weeks and nothing.
Me: I see your file. It was flagged after how you spoke to my team last Tuesday.
Him: That was a misunderstanding.
Me: Then I'm sure you'll apologize to her. She's the one who processes refunds.
Him: Fine. Put her on.
Me: She's right here. Go ahead.
He apologized, Properly.
I approved the refund the same minute.
S writes 📝 retweeted
I paid $2,800 for a first-class seat on a nine-hour flight because I had saved for months to afford it.
Just before takeoff, a woman approached me with her teenage son.
“Would you mind switching seats? My son has never flown first class.”
I checked her boarding pass. She was seated in economy.
“I'm sorry, but I paid for this seat.”
She gave me a disappointed look.
“He's only sixteen. You’re an adult. Surely you can be generous for once?”
I put my headphones back on.
She called me selfish, then complained to a flight attendant that I was upsetting her son.
The attendant politely explained that I wasn't required to move.
That's when the woman made a mistake...
S writes 📝 retweeted
My husband cheated on me repeatedly, but what he didn’t know was that I had been taking PrEP to protect myself from HIV.
One day, he tested positive for HIV and came home devastated. He invited his mother to beg me not to leave him.
I looked at them and said, “I’m sorry, but we signed a prenup.”
My husband exploded, calling me wicked and heartless. His mother joined in, accusing me of being an evil woman for abandoning her sick husband.
S writes 📝 retweeted
At my sister's wedding, a man I'd never met asked me to dance.
Halfway through the song, he whispered, “Please pretend you're in love with me. My ex is watching.”
I laughed.
“What's in it for me?”
“Dinner. Anywhere you want.”
“Make it two dinners.”
He smiled. “Done.”
His name was Julian. He was handsome, charming, and held me as though we had known each other for years.
When the song ended, he didn't release my hand.
Instead, he looked into my eyes and said, “Thank you. I think you just saved my evening.”
I shrugged.
“Happy to help.”
But as I turned to leave, he gently pulled me back.
“One more dance?”
I should have said no.
Instead, I stayed.
We danced until the music changed, laughing and talking as though the entire wedding had disappeared around us.
At the end of the night, he asked for my number.
I gave it to him.
Three days later, he took me to dinner.
Then another dinner.
Then a movie.
Soon, Julian became the first person I wanted to tell whenever something good happened.
I was falling in love.
And for the first time in years, I wasn't afraid.
Until one evening, he invited me to his house.
As I entered, I noticed a framed photograph on the wall.
It was Julian with a beautiful woman, their arms wrapped around each other.
I pointed at it.
“Who's she?”
His expression changed.
“My ex.”
I nodded slowly.
“Are you still in love with her?”
He was silent for so long that I wished I hadn't asked.
Then he took my hands.
“There's something I should have told you before we started dating.”
My heart began to race.
“What?”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“The woman you helped me make jealous at that wedding wasn't my ex.”
I frowned.
“Then who was she?”
He swallowed hard.
“My fiancée. We were supposed to get married that very weekend.”
I pulled my hands away.
“Julian, what have you done?”
He reached for me, but I stepped back.
Then he said the one thing I never expected.
“I didn't ask you to dance because I wanted to make her jealous. I asked because I had seen you before, and I was hoping you'd finally notice me.”
S writes 📝 retweeted
My father called me ungrateful for refusing to lend my older brother money, even though that same brother disappeared when our family needed him most 😭 😭
When my father lost his job, I covered several household expenses while my brother said he had his own responsibilities
I didn't hate him for refusing to help. Everyone has limits.
What hurt was watching him stop answering our calls, then return two years later when his business collapsed
Now my father says family shouldn't remember old mistakes when someone is struggling
My brother has asked me for a loan large enough to wipe out most of my savings.
I told my father I wasn't comfortable lending that much.
He said, “Your brother helped raise you. You owe him something.”