He didn’t go on the Internet and find pictures of his mum that he didn’t realise were pictures of his mum and wanked off to them. Oh no, he openly admitted to me that he consciously went looking for pictures of his mum and eventually found them “out of curiosity” (since apparently he’d known about her porn history from his father joking about it or something). But then after finding them, he realised that he actually kind of found it horny them and merrily bashed the bishop over them.
I looked at him funny for about a month after that but eventually he showed me an old video of her in some grainy act of debauchery (that was actually really fucking awesome to watch when you’re 13 and have only seen a handful of sideboob on TV and in magazines) and I realised that, actually, I could see his point.
My grandma is supppeeerrr racist. I used to assume it was just because she grew up during a time when that was the norm, but I found out a couple years ago that wasn’t the reason.
My mom finally sat me down one day and explained why she was so racist. She was brutally raped by a group of black men, and has flashbacks whenever she’s around black men. I don’t think any of the younger generation in my family knows besides me.
My grandfather was a milkman and was beaten and mugged by black men 4 separate times. He had to be taken to the ER twice and had 3 surgeries due to his injuries. He hated black men, and that’s what I remembered as a kid. As I grew older, I started to understand what racism was and his hatred of black men.
As he got older, a black man moved across the street from him. My grandpa was getting too old to maintain his yard, carry things, etc. The man across the street would go out of his way to help my grandfather, mow his grass, paint the house, help bring in groceries, and so on.
My grandpa and the neighbor became best friends. They would sit on the porch and would talk for hours. He completely changed as a human being. Horrible things are done to individuals, but all it takes is one genuine act of kindness to change a person.
I will forever be grateful to that man. He showed me that me my grandpa was a lot more than a racist. RIP grandpa.
I found out a few years ago that my dad spent years drugging my mom so he could rape her while she was passed out. I’ve since helped my mom divorce him and my family has no relationship with him. What no one knows is that while I was dating my wife many years ago, she drank with my dad while I was at work. She had recently turned 21 so I thought she had completely passed out when I couldn’t wake her. I now know how well she can handle her drink and she has never been unwakable. I suspect my dad drugged her, but I have no proof. No use telling her what I suspect so it will go with me to the grave. It makes me sick just thinking about it.
My parents finally let slip about what my grandfather did to my grandmother in the late 30’s. I knew that my mother had a stillborn sister born before her. What I DIDN’T know was why that baby was stillborn.
Apparently my grandfather didn’t want the baby. So when my grandmother was in labor, instead of bringing the doctor like he said he was going to do, he just disappeared. Leaving my grandmother in labor, home alone, miles from help, for a long, long time. This obviously was back when babies were born at home and in such a rural area that there were no phones at the time. He showed up over 24 hours later with the doctor but by then it was too late. Baby was dead, grandmother was nearly dead. They stayed together (god knows why) and when my mother came along they were living in town. So when the time came to have my mother, my grandmother walked herself to the doctors office and had her there, fearing he’d do something similar to her.
Finding all that out went a long way towards explaining the dynamic between them that I saw while growing up.
There is also some big secret, that I doubt I’ll never know, that my grandfather told my father on his deathbed. It involved some horrific thing he did during WWII. My father maintains that he will never tell anyone, not even my mother, because “we can’t handle it”. Keep in mind that my father did his own terrible things during the Vietnam war that he WILL tell us about if we ask. So this secret must be god awful.
My aunt caught her husband having sex with his mother in the bathtub after she came home from work. Needless to say, immediate divorce.
I have a Great Aunt that one day just disappeared off the face of the planet. I believe this was in the 1940’s or 50’s around the Portland area, and she was in her mid twenties. Never had any problems with her family, was a bright and happy girl, and then suddenly never came home from from work one day. The family had no idea where she went or why she would run away, so they all assumed she was either kidnapped or died somewhere never to be seen again.
Flash forward 5 years and her brother is in Chicago on business. He leaves the office he was at for the day and sees her just walking down the street. He calls her name to make sure he’s not just seeing things and low and behold she turns around and sees him. He stops her, asks “What the hell?” and she proceeds to dodge questions. She then invites him to the apartment she had been living at, promising that she’ll explain everything, and they head there.
As soon as they get there brother starts firing the questions at her. She tells him to give her just a minute, she’s going downstairs to the shop across the street to buy some cigarettes because this is all a huge shock to her as well. Brother, for some reason, decides to let her go alone.
She never came back and was never seen again. We still have no idea what happened.
I’m going to interpret “fucked up” as “strange” so that I have a good answer.
20-30 years ago there was a thief in the town my family lived in. The person would break in and steal anything valuable plus their plants. Yes plants.
This goes on for a few months, when my family starts noticing my uncle is giving away a lot of random plants to family members.
Somebody (not sure who) found a stash of house plants in his house, and that was the final straw.
Turns out my uncle was into some weird drugs at the time, and would break into places high and steal plants… Then wake up the next day with a house full of plants and try to give them away.
I come from a pretty fucked up family so I’ll let you in on a few secrets and you can tell me which is the most fucked up.
-My uncle Geoff got high and killed his best friend, but since my grandpa was the police chief he only got a slap on the wrist.
-Uncle Geoff would sell his daughters to random men for drug money. His wife divorced him and took the girls. A few years later they were both pregnant from their stepdad, who is a preacher.
-My grandpa died of Aids but the family lied and said it was cancer because they didn’t want to stain his reputation as an upstanding citizen. I still don’t know he he got it, everyone pretends it never happened.
-Same grandpa used to make up stories about my mom (his daughter) cheating on my dad because he thought it was funny. He continued doing it even after he had to get her from the hospital because of the beatings that resulted.
-My grandma didn’t want my uncle to marry because he was her favorite child so she paid some neighborhood thugs to kidnap and beat the girl as a message to stay away.
-My sister ran away from home and was gang raped but no one ever did anything about it because they felt it was her fault for being disobedient. My family used to make jokes about it and laugh at her but now no one brings it up.
Guess it’s time for the blood mattress story.
When my grandma was growing up in Costa Rica around 1940-something her mother was dating a guy who seemed like bad news. Just all around weird guy, neither my grandma or her sister liked him. Their mother wouldn’t listen. He’s fine, he takes care of us, etc.
Except one night this guy decides he’s had enough of “being nice” and “taking care of them”. He decides to murder my great grandma in her bed via a hammer to the skull. There is a LOT of blood. Not just on the walls and ceiling but soaking into the mattress beneath the body. My grandma and her sister come home to find their mom dead, their house covered in blood and the murderer nowhere to be found. So they call the police, the police take the body away, do a cursory examination of the crime scene and call it a day. It was rural Costa Rica before the Second World War. There wasn’t a lot they could do forensically and the only thing they had to go on was the fact that the boyfriend was nowhere to be found. So the police leave, leaving twelve year old grandma and her nine year old sister to clean up the mess. They scrub the blood off the walls and ceiling then realize something. If they throw away the bloody mattress then they have no bed left. The one they shared with their mother was the only bed in the house. So, being poor and frugal, they decide to flip the mattress. My grandma held the bottom end while her sister turned the whole thing up on one end. Instead of flipping the mattress my grandma ended up doused in all the blood that had been pooling inside of it. Apparently it was cold, and thick, and more like syrup than liquid. To this day my family maintains that getting doused in her murdered mother’s blood was what turned her into the crazy/evil woman we all know.
I was conceived at a swingers party and nobody in my family (who knows this) is completely sure my dad is my biological father.