Latest news with #mutualfriend
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Woman Says Friend Texts Her Fiancé Behind Her Back, Then Asks Him to Hang Out
"It's a mind game because nothing she's saying is overtly inappropriate, but I'm not getting a good gut feeling about her," the woman wroteNEED TO KNOW A woman and her fiancé are uncomfortable with their mutual friend's girlfriend messaging him privately The girlfriend's texts weren't flirty at first, but recently they've grown increasingly suggestive Though the fiancé is transparent with the woman, she can't shake the feeling of distrust towards the girlfriendA Reddit user is suspicious of another woman getting flirty with her fiancé, despite them all being friends. The 29-year-old woman opened up about the uncomfortable situation between her 30-year-old fiancé and his childhood friend's girlfriend in a post on Reddit. "I need to get this off my chest because it's been bothering me a lot and I don't know if I'm overreacting or trusting my gut," she begins. She explained that the two couples are in a group chat together, but the 27-year-old girlfriend continuously and consistently messages her fiancé privately, while making no effort to build a connection with her. In the past, the girlfriend's messages weren't "explicitly flirty" but rather random questions and comments that, in the poster's mind, would have been just as suited for the group chat. "She's extremely friendly to me and I like hanging out all together. Yet, If we're all supposed to be friends, why is she building a connection only with him privately but not me?" she questions. While the poster has been letting it slide, recently, the messages have taken a suggestive turn. On the fiancé's birthday, the girlfriend stayed up late so she could be "the first one to wish him a happy birthday." "Something about that just really upset me. It felt so intentional, like she wanted to insert herself in a way that made her feel close to him," the poster explains. At a separate time, the girlfriend also texted the woman's fiancé, saying she wanted "to hang out with him with or without her boyfriend." "That sentence keeps playing in my head," the woman writes. "Who says that to someone else's fiancé?" The poster notes that her partner has been very transparent and always shows her the messages and asks how to respond. While her fiancé is equally "uncomfortable" with the situation, he doesn't want to complicate the dynamic between the four of them – him, his fiancée, his friend and the girlfriend. Still, now he's set a "clear boundary:" whenever the girlfriend texts him, he'll send his reply in the group chat. But it's not about trusting her fiancé, the poster notes — it's about trusting the girlfriend. "I can't stop feeling disrespected and honestly, [on] high alert. It's a mind game because nothing she's saying is overtly inappropriate, but I'm not getting a good gut feeling about her," she writes. "She's seemingly happy in her relationship so why is she going to my fiancé for random things?" Never miss a story — sign up for to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer, from celebrity news to compelling human-interest stories. Those in the comments agreed, noting that they were willing to give the girlfriend the benefit of the doubt until she asked to hang out alone with him. "I could see her sending him non-flirty texts about specific topics that are career related, but the part about wanting to hang out with just him and maybe her [boyfriend] — to the exclusion of you — is troubling," one wrote. "I'd be suspicious as well." Another suggested the girlfriend is "playing a long, low-stakes game" — establishing a connection with the fiancé should either one of their relationships end. Read the original article on People Solve the daily Crossword
Daily Mail
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Why I broke up with my new girlfriend after seeing her apartment for the first time
A man has dumped his new girlfriend after discovering a major problem during his first visit to her apartment. The man said he had been seeing a woman he thought was 'gorgeous' for a few months after they met through a mutual friend. Last weekend, she invited him over to her place and casually mentioned that her apartment was a 'mess' - but he laughed it off, thinking she was just being modest. But the moment he walked through the door, he was greeted by 'literal piles' of trash on the floor, a sink full of dishes overflowing onto the counter, stains on the couch and carpet, week-old food on the dining table and mountains of clutter. 'Not to mention the overpowering smell of mould and mildew that I could literally taste in my mouth,' the man said in a Reddit thread. The man said the state of her apartment was 'scarily similar' to an episode of the hit TV series Friends, where Ross Geller goes on a date with a beautiful paleontologist but is horrified to discover her apartment is extremely messy - and home to a rat. Ross ended up dumping her because he couldn't handle how filthy her home was. Sharing his personal experience, the man said: 'She'd mentioned her apartment was a mess and I laughed because I thought she was just being self-deprecating, but when we got to her place... holy s*** dude. 'I want to start off by saying I know that people have their reasons for stuff like this and I don't want to be disrespectful in any way... But the state of her apartment was genuinely shocking when I first went in. 'It was a pretty small place and I'm not just talking about clutter... It was just piles and piles of stuff everywhere.' He noticed the woman acted 'completely normal' as she told him to sit down on her stain-covered couch. 'I tried not to act weird but I'm sure she noticed,' the man said. 'I stayed for a bit and we watched a movie on the couch but I left before it got too late.' The next day, he broke the news that he didn't think their relationship was working. 'I called her and told her I didn't think things were going to be compatible between us and she got mad at me for leading her on and breaking up with her for no reason,' he explained. 'I didn't mention the apartment but I don't know, maybe I should have.' The man said he never imagined her apartment would be a deal breaker for him. 'Literally nothing about her appearance or personality would lead me to expect this so it was sort of unbelievable to see the state she was living in,' he said. 'I feel bad for her and I'm worried I might have acted too quickly.' His post was met with nearly 1,000 comments, with a majority of people agreeing he handled the breakup in the 'most mature way' - but many suggested he should have politely told her the truth. 'She has to change for herself otherwise what will happen when she breaks up? Goes back to the old habits until she deals with whatever got her like that to begin with, she won't change. He dodged a bullet,' one said. 'You want to be nice about it and give her a chance to change for the better. If she blows you off and tells you to go f*** yourself, it'll still linger in her mind. You've planted a seed of doubt in her lifestyle choices. After enough rejections, she will come to her senses,' another shared. 'You don't need a reason to break it off with someone. This would be it for me too. If you eventually lived together that is what you'd be dealing with. When you go to visit you have to sit amongst trash. No for me,' one suggested. 'I do think you should've mentioned the apartment. People who don't know what the problem is cannot take any corrective action. Tell her and move on,' another added. Meanwhile, many shared similar experiences they've had with 'mess' family members or friends who struggled with clutter in their homes. 'My niece is like this. She lived with us for a while and completely trashed her room and didn't appear to have any qualms about the kitchen or lounge either. She's a grown adult and we had to ask her to leave, such was the mess and stench,' one said. 'My oldest sister is like this, everyone has told her and offered to help her clean up her house, now she just doesn't let people into her house. Even her car is f***ing disgusting but if you knew her outside of those two scenarios you would never know. She dresses well and her hygiene and appearance is impeccable. She just won't change,' another revealed. 'I have a friend like this and I would clean his house on a regular basis. He bought an expensive loft and it was always filthy and I can't imagine it's safe to live in with the food situation. I thought it might be depression but it seems people are just slobs and don't care about the judgement that comes with living that lifestyle,' one added.
The Guardian
7 days ago
- General
- The Guardian
My friends made plans without me – is it weird to invite myself?
I'm at the pub with my friend, catching up over drinks, when her friend walks in – let's call her Clara. Clara mentions the party she's throwing next weekend. Our mutual friend is counting down the days, but it's news to me. I arrange my face into an expression of polite interest, imagining that they will soon move on. But they keep going – about Clara's preparations, the drinks she's ordered, the DJ. It's not that I expect an invitation – I don't know her well – but their focused discussion is starting to feel pointed, especially in the small city we share. I can't help feeling left out. Finally, they turn to a new topic, but the interaction leaves me feeling uneasy and insecure, like I'd just been dragged back to high school. Were they really excluding me, or should I have angled for an invite? New research has shed light on the psychology of 'self-invitation', and why people hold back from asking to join others' plans. Psychologists staged eight experiments, involving both hypothetical scenarios and participants' real-life experiences, and found that anxieties associated with 'self-inviting' were rooted in misunderstandings about the organiser's mindset. Namely, the study found that when we learn friends have made plans without us, we tend to overestimate the possibility that they had decided against inviting us, rather than just being preoccupied with other things. We also overestimate how irritated they would be if we asked to join. In fact, researchers found that, more often than not, organisers would prefer we did, and that including us had probably 'merely slipped their mind'. When we jump to the conclusion that we've been deliberately excluded, we're usually projecting our anxieties and insecurities, says Daniel M Grossman, an assistant professor of marketing at the University of Missouri-St Louis, who co-authored the paper. 'We're not very good at reading others' minds and motivations – or even our own, sometimes.' For example, we generally assume that we've been actively considered and discounted when, in reality, organisers are likely to have been busy with logistics such as finding a time that suits everyone or booking tickets. 'We have this natural, egocentric tendency to overestimate how much people are considering us or paying attention to us in general – not just with invitations but also the clothing we wear, our appearance and our behaviours,' Grossman says. Sometimes, people are left out on purpose, he allows: 'I don't want to say that never happens.' But his study suggests it's more likely that our names just didn't come up, or the organisers didn't think we'd be interested. After all, Grossman points out, if friends had really meant to exclude us, they probably wouldn't be so open about their plans. 'Organisers really can't think about including everyone, to everything they decide to do. I think that's an exhausting expectation to put on anyone.' Likewise, we hold back from asking to join in because we believe that would be irritating to organisers when Grossman found that – not always, but often – they would rather we did. That said, Grossman says, it can be nerve-racking to put yourself out there, even with people you're close to. His research didn't explore individual differences, but he suspects that traits like high self-confidence, low sensitivity to rejection and strong social belonging might make people feel more comfortable asking to be included. Conversely, those high in social anxiety, or 'especially concerned with impression management', may be more hesitant. Prior experiences may also play a part. 'If you had one experience growing up when you said 'Hey, can I join?' and someone said no – these rejections really stick with us, especially when they occur at a younger age,' Grossman says. Feeling left out is the core fear of the teenager – hence why my run-in with Clara felt so adolescent. But we don't have to stick with those internal scripts. Sign up to Well Actually Practical advice, expert insights and answers to your questions about how to live a good life after newsletter promotion I became more comfortable taking social risks when I moved countries – first aged 23, then again at 26. I learned to be quite shameless about asking to join colleagues and acquaintances in their plans because my social life depended on it. Most were more than accommodating, introducing me to friends and new circles. On the occasions when they politely brushed me off, I tried not to take it personally – I'd benefited from taking the chance and flexing my social muscle. Grossman says people routinely overestimate the discomfort, awkwardness or pain of social rejection. Even asking to be included is likely not as difficult (or excruciating) as they may imagine. Across their eight experiments, Grossman and his team tested two approaches to 'self-inviting': asking 'That sounds like a great time – can I come with you?' versus stating, 'I'll join you'. The latter is less common and 'a lot more assertive', Grossman says – even 'a little bit presumptuous'. Yet the researchers found the outcome was no different 'whether the self-inviter asked to join, or simply stated that they would'. Grossman nevertheless recommends asking nicely – with an emphasis on the word 'ask'. (I tend to drop obvious hints, like 'I've always wanted to do that – and I'm free that day!') More from Why am I like this: I'm an adult. Why do I regress under my parents' roof? I like my own company. But do I spend too much time alone? People say you'll know – but will I regret not having children? Grossman's findings don't necessarily mean that 'all self-invitations are going to be met with open arms', he adds: context such as the nature of the plans, the closeness of the relationship and the personality of the self-inviter 'all likely play a role in how the self-invitation is received'. Additionally, the study only looked at casual, everyday plans, like going to see a film or for a walk in the park, rather than formal events with curated guest lists, like weddings. Still, Grossman believes the results should encourage us to take more social risks. 'Overall, our findings suggest that many people are missing opportunities for connection out of this fear that oftentimes we find is overestimated,' he says. Organisers can do their bit by making invitations explicit, instead of assuming that others will infer that they're included or else feel comfortable asking to come. 'Just a 'You're welcome to come' dissipates all of that,' Grossman says.Z After speaking with him, I stumble upon a template on Instagram that lists 'Activities I like being invited to'; it has been shared over 136,000 times, personalised with each user's preferences. Some people signal that they're keen for camping and clubbing but not karaoke; others are open to going for a run, but not to a bar. I am reminded of the different ways there are to spend time together, and feel inspired to take initiative, as Grossman suggested. Connection isn't a zero-sum game, split between organisers and guests. Instead of waiting to be invited, or asking to be invited, we can also create more opportunities for socialising. When my friend mentions she's going to try a new pilates studio, I don't hesitate to ask if I can tag along. I'd have survived a rejection, but she says yes – and when another friend asks me if she can come too, so do I.
Yahoo
7 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
My friends made plans without me – is it OK to invite myself?
I'm at the pub with my friend, catching up over drinks, when her friend walks in – let's call her Clara. Clara mentions the party she's throwing next weekend. Our mutual friend is counting down the days, but it's news to me. I arrange my face into an expression of polite interest, imagining that they will soon move on. But they keep going – about Clara's preparations, the drinks she's ordered, the DJ. It's not that I expect an invitation – I don't know her well – but their focused discussion is starting to feel pointed, especially in the small city we share. I can't help feeling left out. Finally, they turn to a new topic, but the interaction leaves me feeling uneasy and insecure, like I'd just been dragged back to high school. Related: Is it true that I 'don't get angry'? Or am I actually dangerously suppressing it? Were they really excluding me, or should I have angled for an invite? New research has shed light on the psychology of 'self-invitation', and why people hold back from asking to join others' plans. Psychologists staged eight experiments, involving both hypothetical scenarios and participants' real-life experiences, and found that anxieties associated with 'self-inviting' were rooted in misunderstandings about the organiser's mindset. Namely, the study found that when we learn friends have made plans without us, we tend to overestimate the possibility that they had decided against inviting us, rather than just being preoccupied with other things. We also overestimate how irritated they would be if we asked to join. In fact, researchers found that, more often than not, organisers would prefer we did, and that including us had probably 'merely slipped their mind'. *** When we jump to the conclusion that we've been deliberately excluded, we're usually projecting our anxieties and insecurities, says Daniel M Grossman, an assistant professor of marketing at the University of Missouri-St Louis, who co-authored the paper. 'We're not very good at reading others' minds and motivations – or even our own, sometimes.' For example, we generally assume that we've been actively considered and discounted when, in reality, organisers are likely to have been busy with logistics such as finding a time that suits everyone or booking tickets. 'We have this natural, egocentric tendency to overestimate how much people are considering us or paying attention to us in general – not just with invitations but also the clothing we wear, our appearance and our behaviours,' Grossman says. Sometimes, people are left out on purpose, he allows: 'I don't want to say that never happens.' But his study suggests it's more likely that our names just didn't come up, or the organisers didn't think we'd be interested. After all, Grossman points out, if friends had really meant to exclude us, they probably wouldn't be so open about their plans. 'Organisers really can't think about including everyone, to everything they decide to do. I think that's an exhausting expectation to put on anyone.' Likewise, we hold back from asking to join in because we believe that would be irritating to organisers when Grossman found that – not always, but often – they would rather we did. That said, Grossman says, it can be nerve-racking to put yourself out there, even with people you're close to. His research didn't explore individual differences, but he suspects that traits like high self-confidence, low sensitivity to rejection and strong social belonging might make people feel more comfortable asking to be included. Conversely, those high in social anxiety, or 'especially concerned with impression management', may be more hesitant. Prior experiences may also play a part. 'If you had one experience growing up when you said 'Hey, can I join?' and someone said no – these rejections really stick with us, especially when they occur at a younger age,' Grossman says. *** Feeling left out is the core fear of the teenager – hence why my run-in with Clara felt so adolescent. But we don't have to stick with those internal scripts. I became more comfortable taking social risks when I moved countries – first aged 23, then again at 26. I learned to be quite shameless about asking to join colleagues and acquaintances in their plans because my social life depended on it. Most were more than accommodating, introducing me to friends and new circles. On the occasions when they politely brushed me off, I tried not to take it personally – I'd benefited from taking the chance and flexing my social muscle. Grossman says people routinely overestimate the discomfort, awkwardness or pain of social rejection. Even asking to be included is likely not as difficult (or excruciating) as they may imagine. Across their eight experiments, Grossman and his team tested two approaches to 'self-inviting': asking 'That sounds like a great time – can I come with you?' versus stating, 'I'll join you'. The latter is less common and 'a lot more assertive', Grossman says – even 'a little bit presumptuous'. Yet the researchers found the outcome was no different 'whether the self-inviter asked to join, or simply stated that they would'. Grossman nevertheless recommends asking nicely – with an emphasis on the word 'ask'. (I tend to drop obvious hints, like 'I've always wanted to do that – and I'm free that day!') More from Why am I like this:Grossman's findings don't necessarily mean that 'all self-invitations are going to be met with open arms', he adds: context such as the nature of the plans, the closeness of the relationship and the personality of the self-inviter 'all likely play a role in how the self-invitation is received'. Additionally, the study only looked at casual, everyday plans, like going to see a film or for a walk in the park, rather than formal events with curated guest lists, like weddings. Still, Grossman believes the results should encourage us to take more social risks. 'Overall, our findings suggest that many people are missing opportunities for connection out of this fear that oftentimes we find is overestimated,' he says. Organisers can do their bit by making invitations explicit, instead of assuming that others will infer that they're included or else feel comfortable asking to come. 'Just a 'You're welcome to come' dissipates all of that,' Grossman says.Z Related: Gaming in their golden years: why millions of seniors are playing video games After speaking with him, I stumble upon a template on Instagram that lists 'Activities I like being invited to'; it has been shared over 136,000 times, personalised with each user's preferences. Some people signal that they're keen for camping and clubbing but not karaoke; others are open to going for a run, but not to a bar. I am reminded of the different ways there are to spend time together, and feel inspired to take initiative, as Grossman suggested. Connection isn't a zero-sum game, split between organisers and guests. Instead of waiting to be invited, or asking to be invited, we can also create more opportunities for socialising. When my friend mentions she's going to try a new pilates studio, I don't hesitate to ask if I can tag along. I'd have survived a rejection, but she says yes – and when another friend asks me if she can come too, so do I. Solve the daily Crossword
The Guardian
7 days ago
- General
- The Guardian
My friends made plans without me – is it OK to invite myself?
I'm at the pub with my friend, catching up over drinks, when her friend walks in – let's call her Clara. Clara mentions the party she's throwing next weekend. Our mutual friend is counting down the days, but it's news to me. I arrange my face into an expression of polite interest, imagining that they will soon move on. But they keep going – about Clara's preparations, the drinks she's ordered, the DJ. It's not that I expect an invitation – I don't know her well – but their focused discussion is starting to feel pointed, especially in the small city we share. I can't help feeling left out. Finally, they turn to a new topic, but the interaction leaves me feeling uneasy and insecure, like I'd just been dragged back to high school. Were they really excluding me, or should I have angled for an invite? New research has shed light on the psychology of 'self-invitation', and why people hold back from asking to join others' plans. Psychologists staged eight experiments, involving both hypothetical scenarios and participants' real-life experiences, and found that anxieties associated with 'self-inviting' were rooted in misunderstandings about the organiser's mindset. Namely, the study found that when we learn friends have made plans without us, we tend to overestimate the possibility that they had decided against inviting us, rather than just being preoccupied with other things. We also overestimate how irritated they would be if we asked to join. In fact, researchers found that, more often than not, organisers would prefer we did, and that including us had probably 'merely slipped their mind'. When we jump to the conclusion that we've been deliberately excluded, we're usually projecting our anxieties and insecurities, says Daniel M Grossman, an assistant professor of marketing at the University of Missouri-St Louis, who co-authored the paper. 'We're not very good at reading others' minds and motivations – or even our own, sometimes.' For example, we generally assume that we've been actively considered and discounted when, in reality, organisers are likely to have been busy with logistics such as finding a time that suits everyone or booking tickets. 'We have this natural, egocentric tendency to overestimate how much people are considering us or paying attention to us in general – not just with invitations but also the clothing we wear, our appearance and our behaviours,' Grossman says. Sometimes, people are left out on purpose, he allows: 'I don't want to say that never happens.' But his study suggests it's more likely that our names just didn't come up, or the organisers didn't think we'd be interested. After all, Grossman points out, if friends had really meant to exclude us, they probably wouldn't be so open about their plans. 'Organisers really can't think about including everyone, to everything they decide to do. I think that's an exhausting expectation to put on anyone.' Likewise, we hold back from asking to join in because we believe that would be irritating to organisers when Grossman found that – not always, but often – they would rather we did. That said, Grossman says, it can be nerve-racking to put yourself out there, even with people you're close to. His research didn't explore individual differences, but he suspects that traits like high self-confidence, low sensitivity to rejection and strong social belonging might make people feel more comfortable asking to be included. Conversely, those high in social anxiety, or 'especially concerned with impression management', may be more hesitant. Prior experiences may also play a part. 'If you had one experience growing up when you said 'Hey, can I join?' and someone said no – these rejections really stick with us, especially when they occur at a younger age,' Grossman says. Feeling left out is the core fear of the teenager – hence why my run-in with Clara felt so adolescent. But we don't have to stick with those internal scripts. Sign up to Well Actually Practical advice, expert insights and answers to your questions about how to live a good life after newsletter promotion I became more comfortable taking social risks when I moved countries – first aged 23, then again at 26. I learned to be quite shameless about asking to join colleagues and acquaintances in their plans because my social life depended on it. Most were more than accommodating, introducing me to friends and new circles. On the occasions when they politely brushed me off, I tried not to take it personally – I'd benefited from taking the chance and flexing my social muscle. Grossman says people routinely overestimate the discomfort, awkwardness or pain of social rejection. Even asking to be included is likely not as difficult (or excruciating) as they may imagine. Across their eight experiments, Grossman and his team tested two approaches to 'self-inviting': asking 'That sounds like a great time – can I come with you?' versus stating, 'I'll join you'. The latter is less common and 'a lot more assertive', Grossman says – even 'a little bit presumptuous'. Yet the researchers found the outcome was no different 'whether the self-inviter asked to join, or simply stated that they would'. Grossman nevertheless recommends asking nicely – with an emphasis on the word 'ask'. (I tend to drop obvious hints, like 'I've always wanted to do that – and I'm free that day!') More from Why am I like this: I'm an adult. Why do I regress under my parents' roof? I like my own company. But do I spend too much time alone? People say you'll know – but will I regret not having children? Grossman's findings don't necessarily mean that 'all self-invitations are going to be met with open arms', he adds: context such as the nature of the plans, the closeness of the relationship and the personality of the self-inviter 'all likely play a role in how the self-invitation is received'. Additionally, the study only looked at casual, everyday plans, like going to see a film or for a walk in the park, rather than formal events with curated guest lists, like weddings. Still, Grossman believes the results should encourage us to take more social risks. 'Overall, our findings suggest that many people are missing opportunities for connection out of this fear that oftentimes we find is overestimated,' he says. Organisers can do their bit by making invitations explicit, instead of assuming that others will infer that they're included or else feel comfortable asking to come. 'Just a 'You're welcome to come' dissipates all of that,' Grossman says.Z After speaking with him, I stumble upon a template on Instagram that lists 'Activities I like being invited to'; it has been shared over 136,000 times, personalised with each user's preferences. Some people signal that they're keen for camping and clubbing but not karaoke; others are open to going for a run, but not to a bar. I am reminded of the different ways there are to spend time together, and feel inspired to take initiative, as Grossman suggested. Connection isn't a zero-sum game, split between organisers and guests. Instead of waiting to be invited, or asking to be invited, we can also create more opportunities for socialising. When my friend mentions she's going to try a new pilates studio, I don't hesitate to ask if I can tag along. I'd have survived a rejection, but she says yes – and when another friend asks me if she can come too, so do I.
