It’s a veiled rape threat, the kind that is worded ambiguously enough that it flies under the radar for many but terrifies those who’ve experienced similar scenarios with creepy, weird, abusive men.

I’m curious about two things. Will nesting birds or animals find this material tasty or good to gnaw on?

I always ask that ever since I learned vehicles using a more organic plastic for wiring harnesses suffer from shorts due to animals like mice nibbling the plastic because it smells tasty.

That’s how you end up washing your earphones

Leaving its carnal meaning in oblivion, eh?

That sounds like a challenge…

Dungeons and (bad) Dragons

Grandma is a wise, WISE woman. Like, I can’t tell you how wise. And everyone should listen to her advice–men and women both. Have an account in YOUR name, and have enough stashed away in there so if things go tits up and all you have left is the shirt on your back, you can get an airplane ticket to someone who will help you get back on your feet. $2k sounds good to me, but even $100 can help massively if you’re in a dark place.

(And if you don’t have anyone you can get a plane ticket to–put even more in if you’re able, so you can keep a roof over your head and gas in your car if you have to suddenly reinvent your own life and have no friends or other family members to flee to.)

I grew up in an abusive home, and found out the horrifically hard way when I ran away at 16 that my uncle had been stealing out of my account, because minors are forced to have joint accounts instead of accounts in their own name. He purposefully stole the money I earned at work and took it, so when I needed it most when I ran away from home, it wasn’t there.

In my darkest hour, I needed money, because the ones who were supposed to love me didn’t actually love me and I hit my limit and I had to get out.

And my money wasn’t there. And this happened because I wasn’t allowed to have a bank account of my own. As a minor I was old enough to work–but not old enough to have my own bank account, and I had no legal recourse to get that money back once my guardian stole it from me.

And as I understand it, even if you’re an adult, you have no legal recourse to get money back if someone on a joint account with you takes out of it–even if you’re the one who earned the money to begin with. I would only have had recourse if the account had bee IN MY NAME ONLY.

I’m nowhere near grandma’s age up there, but it’s SO FUCKING common for abusers to steal your money as way to control you so you can’t leave. Having an account of your own with anywhere between $100 -$2,000 in it as an emergency fund is critical to your OWN survival. Everyone should have a separate bank account of their own with a little money in it for emergencies, even if they largely agree to join finances with a partner or spouse. Men AND women should have it. It’s not a betrayal of trust to give yourself a lifeline like that. You don’t know what life will bring you. Or take away.

And it’s not some “hiding assets in a divorce” trickery that some people crawling about these comments would say. Shoving $2k (or even less, because sometimes even an extra $100 can help in dire situations) into an account only YOU can touch isn’t divorce malfeasance, it’s not the same as shoving a fucking yacht or a bunch of stocks or whatever in there as a way to fuck over a divorcing spouse. It’s making sure if things go truly tits-up, you can get a plane ticket or uber or SOMETHING to get yourself to physical safety if it’s needed. It’s not swaning off in a golden parachute, it’s making sure you can put gas in your car and pay the insurance for a month or two if you’re suddenly living in it.

Honestly, for all of you saying “oh, my trust in my spouse would be broken if they did that!” and “oh, someone this paranoid isn’t even whole enough to have a relationship–they should stay single!”…well, let’s turn that around.

Why the hell would I want a spouse that LOVED ME SO LITTLE that having a $2k emergency fund in my own name in a bank account only I can access would break your heart to pieces?

Why is ME caring for MYSELF and my physical safety in the most minimal way possible something that will make you love me less? Why do you, a person supposedly in a relationship with me (or someone like me!) not love me enough to allow me to have an emergency escape plan that might keep me physically safe if something unexpected goes wrong? Why are you elevating your feelings over my SAFETY?

That selfish behavior is just as chilling to ME as my supposed “betrayal of trust” would be to you if I had a bank account kept secret from you.

Grandma in the Tweet above loves her grandkids. She’s not afraid of hurting her granddaughter’s feelings because she knows the advice might well keep her grandkid physically safe and alive to face another day.

This was a smaller moment, but similar to yours, OP, in that it revealed some unconscious thinking in my head.

But I was playing Crusader Kings II quite a few years back. And I basically had a King with the Genius trait and some other stuff I could pass down to his kids. I think I had somehow lucked into the Byzantine Empire or something, so I was basically seducing and inviting a bunch of lovers with other traits from all around the world (north and south, east and west) so I could spread Genius around. I wanted a smart council full of my bastards, heh.

So my genius slut-king has a bunch of kids. I’m naming them after my absolute favorite characters from books and such, because they’re part of my family and dynasty–so I’m giving them names that have a lot of personal “worth” to me.

Then I get to the kid in my dynasty who isn’t white, and I couldn’t figure out what name to give her. I had all these awesome names that I was using over and over through the generations in my dynasty, but somehow none that felt “right” for her. I tried and tried to choose a name, and none “fit”.

And after a while, it suddenly hit me in the face how SUBTLE racism can be. This was just a video game, but I had something that was “high worth” to me to give out, these favorite character names, and I was handing them out like candy until I got to the one kid and struggled, making all sorts of excuses why this not-white video game kid couldn’t get the name of this other character I really liked.

Now, if I was doing that in a frickin’ video game, imagine what people are doing with REAL LIFE things that are “high worth” to them. Hiring at jobs, giving gifts and presents, selling a house, etc.

And it wasn’t like I was going around in the game consciously picking which kids to screw over. (I mean, moreso than you usually do in Crusader Kings, the game where people glitch themselves into marrying their horses and creating witch covens with devil-babies so they can spread satanism across the world.) I ended up screwing this virtual kid over because I was going on this “gut feeling” that my really cool favorite-character names just somehow “weren’t right” for her, even though that frickin’ inbred cousin over there with a family tree like a wreath was proudly wearing it already.

So yeah. Learned a big lesson on how internal gut feelings influence you to do racist shit really subtly sometimes.