Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
Why can't women see a beautiful well put together woman and compliment her? Are you that insecure? Why do you go out of your way to be nasty? She is not looking at your man nor does she want him! Stop giving stink eye and say wow you look good, or I like your dress.
We should be nicer to each other and say positive things. Women who are curvy and bigger look great too. Tell her so the next time you see her. We all can't be skinny. Let us embrace each other for what we are. —Stop Judging Me
To all the women out there who decide to give your caught red-handed boyfriend, husband, better half (hardly), a second, (third, fourth...) chance after finding out he’s cheating on you because he bullshits his way back into your heart by telling you he loves you and it will never happen again...Wake the fuck up! Leopards do not change their spots, and I’ll bet if you looked at his ass when he is giving you his explanation, his pants would have smoke coming out from them! —Have The Fire Extinguisher Ready
I’m feeling pretty darn used. Like a balled up piece of trash. I’m not new to the world of polyamory but I’ve never been treated quite like this. You decided to open up your relationship. YOU suggested me and your partner spend time together and when we did you became emotionally abusive. Casting threats and shade- after one date. I’m a human being with feelings and dealing with this emotional violence is not what I consented to. I’m not a play thing. I’ve been reading back over our text messages to get some kind of signal that I missed but I hit a real dead end. I was vulnerable and open. You folks lied and put yourself in a bad spot. But discounting my feelings just because you feel hurt is compassion-less living. And you should probably make that pretty clear before you “invite” people into that mess. —Not My Circus, Not My Monkeys