Mary A. Slaton

Mary A. Slaton "Step into 'Storytime AITA,' where we bring you the best moral questions from Reddit. Engage with others, share your thoughts, and see how others judge."

08/26/2026

My friend and I have been close since our freshman year of college, and for a long time I honestly thought we’d be in each other’s weddings one day. We survived terrible dorm food, awful breakups, and those broke early twenties years where a good night out meant splitting a pizza and watching movies on a borrowed account.

I got lucky a couple of years ago and landed a remote job in tech that pays really well, while she’s been bouncing between retail gigs trying to figure out what she wants to do. I have never cared about the income gap between us.

When we hang out, I usually pick up the check for dinner or cover the Uber, just because I know things are tight for her and I want us to have a good time without her stressing over an extra twenty bucks. I thought I was just being a supportive friend.

I didn’t realize I was quietly setting a precedent that was going to blow up in my face. A few months ago, she started talking about us taking a girls' trip to Los Angeles for the summer.

She was so excited about it, sending me TikToks of beach clubs, aesthetic cafes, and rooftop pools every single day. I told her I was in, and we agreed right from the start that we’d split a nice hotel fifty-fifty.

For weeks, it was all we talked about. She was listing off everything she wanted to do — dinner at Nobu, renting jetskis in Malibu, shopping on Rodeo Drive, and getting VIP tables at high-end clubs.

I was a little surprised she was aiming so high, knowing her usual budget, but I figured she’d been saving up for months or maybe her parents had chipped in. I was just happy to see her so animated and looking forward to something big.

The other day, we were sitting in my living room with our laptops, trying to nail down actual dates. We live about eight hours away from LA, so I pulled up a travel site and told her we should probably book our flights soon before prices spiked.

She looked at me from across the couch, completely confused, and said she couldn’t afford a plane ticket right now. She told me she wanted us to drive instead.

I just stared at her. A round-trip flight was currently sitting at about a hundred and fifty dollars.

If she couldn’t scrape together a hundred and fifty bucks for a flight, I genuinely did not understand how she was planning to pay for the two-hundred-dollar dinners she’d been hyping up. Plus, she doesn't even have her driver's license.

That meant the ""we driving"" plan was actually just me driving us eight hours straight through desert traffic. I have chronic back issues from an old sports injury, and sitting behind the wheel for that long is physically agonizing for me.

I reminded her of that, keeping my voice gentle, trying to understand where the disconnect was. She just waved her hand, laughed, and told me it wouldn't be a big deal once we got there.

08/25/2026

My friend always loved making her own music and writing her very own lyrics from scratch. She'd sit there in her room with her acoustic guitar, strumming away while trying to find the perfect melody for her songs. It's always been a fun little hobby she kept up for years without treating it like a serious professional pursuit.

She's alright at playing and singing, but she isn't exactly brilliant or naturally gifted in the musical department. That didn't matter to any of us since we were just hanging out and jamming together on our free weekends. I like to sing a bit myself, though I'm only okay and wouldn't ever call myself genuinely talented.

About half a year ago, she stumbled onto some newfangled AI music generator she found online. You just feed this program some basic prompts along with your lyrics, and it'll spit out a polished track in whatever genre you desire. The tool generates all the backing instruments and main vocals for you, so you aren't really performing anything yourself.

When she first showed it to me, I openly explained I'm a little uneasy with the whole concept. It really takes away from the actual craftsmanship and the genuine creative process of writing a song from nothing. A computer program doing all the heavy lifting doesn't feel like true artistic expression to me in the slightest.

Still, I didn't press the issue back then because I figured she was merely messing around on her phone. I thought she'd just use the software to pass the time and maybe get some fresh ideas for her acoustic playing. It seemed like a harmless digital diversion, so I kept my stronger opinions to myself for the moment.

Now, though, she fancies these AI tracks so much she's treating them like a true musical masterpiece. She quickly started taking the whole thing way further than a simple bedroom experiment to kill time. Instead of keeping the computer-generated songs to herself, she's trying to build an actual professional brand around her output.

She recently published a full album on Spotify and acts like she recorded the whole thing in a high-end studio. On top of that, she runs intense promotional campaigns for her new tracks over on her Instagram page. She's posting constantly, desperately trying to hype up a fan base for music she didn't even personally perform.

Because we're close, she wants me to share her posts and tell everyone I know about her fresh releases. She expects me to publicly support her newfound music career and cheer her on like she just signed a record deal. I just can't bring myself to pretend this AI stuff is a legitimate artistic achievement worth celebrating.

I really don't want to participate in her promotional efforts or validate this strange technological shortcut. She thinks I'm being a terrible friend by refusing to post her streaming links on my own social media feeds. I feel bad for upsetting her, but I won't back something I strongly disagree with. Am I wrong?

08/25/2026

I host a weekly crafting group at my house every Tuesday evening. There are six of us in total, and we usually spend a few hours knitting, doing embroidery, and venting about our jobs. It has always been a safe space for us to just unwind and exist.

We have a pretty diverse mix of personalities in our circle. Claire is our resident mom-to-be, currently hovering around the four-month mark of her pregnancy. Then there is Sarah, who works a grueling retail job and often arrives exhausted from being on her feet all day.

I always try to provide decent snacks for everyone when I host. This past Tuesday, I decided to treat the group and bought a large box of fresh pastries from a local bakery. I also grabbed a single, tiny donut hole specifically for Claire as a lighthearted joke for the baby.

We settled into our usual spots in the basement, chatting over each other with our usual chaotic energy. I was tackling a rather complicated embroidery pattern that required all my focus. Because both my hands were occupied with needles and thread, I left my pastry in the box for the time being.

About an hour into our session, Sarah started venting about her shift. She mentioned that her manager had been terrible and that she hadn’t had a chance to eat anything solid since breakfast. I nodded sympathetically and agreed that it sounded like a miserable day, keeping my eyes on my needlework.

Then Claire got everyone's attention to make a surprise announcement. She told us her recent ultrasound confirmed she was actually having twins. The room immediately erupted into cheers, and we spent a few minutes talking about baby names and double strollers.

Since everyone was in high spirits, I decided to crack another joke. I looked over at Claire and asked if she wanted my untouched pastry, since I clearly had neglected to buy a second donut hole for the other twin. It was meant to be an entirely playful exchange.

Claire laughed and politely declined the offer, patting her stomach. Before the conversation could even move on, Sarah chimed in and asked if I was planning to eat my portion. I did not really think twice about my response.

I told her yes, I was absolutely going to eat it. I explained that I was practically starving and was just waiting to finish a tricky section of my embroidery before getting my hands dirty. I genuinely believed that was the end of the conversation.

A little while later, we took a break to get some drinks from the kitchen. As we were standing around the counter, Sarah suddenly launched into a completely unprompted monologue about nutrition. She started lecturing the group about how pregnant women do not actually need to consume extra portions.

She went on to claim that people who are naturally larger in size require significantly more calories just to maintain their baseline energy. Sarah also emphasized that people working physically demanding jobs needed priority when it came to food. She delivered the whole speech while staring directly at the pastry box.

I am not exactly neurotypical, and I often struggle to read the room. I did not register any passive-aggressive undertones, so I just sipped my drink and went back to my crafting. Everyone packed up their supplies shortly after, and I went to sleep assuming we had all shared another successful Tuesday night.

08/25/2026

I work in the travel industry, so I get to book vacations to Mexico and the Caribbean for cheap. I mostly just pay taxes, so I've always tried to share these perks with my friends. The first time I put a group trip together, a friend backed out at the last minute for a distant acquaintance's grandmother's funeral.

Because the trip was non-refundable, she threatened a lawsuit against my company to get her money back. To avoid a huge mess, my employer did me a favor and cancelled my work trip to secure her refund. She wasn't even close to this person and ended up cutting him off a few weeks later.

Since that incident, I haven't extended any more vacation offers to this specific group of friends. They refuse to travel without their significant others, and I simply don't want to deal with their partners. One guy in particular is exceptionally rude, entitled, and disrespectful whenever we cross paths.

The first time I met this guy, he walked into my home and stated he didn't have to respect me, but I had to respect him. I told him to leave, because I'm not going to tolerate that kind of behavior in my own house. I still supported my friend's relationship because she cares for him, even though he clearly feels the need to assert dominance.

I only get a limited number of airline seats and hotel rooms each year through my job. I shouldn't be expected to use all my annual passes for a single trip with people who act poorly. Anything that happens on these trips reflects on me, and I can't let his bad attitude put my employment at risk.

These travel perks are a professional privilege that I worked hard to secure for myself. I refuse to compromise my standing at the company just to appease demanding people. If they cause a scene at a resort, I could face disciplinary action or lose my discounts for good.

Recently, this friend group decided to plan a weeklong vacation at a destination about an eight-hour drive away. It'd cost me around twelve hundred dollars just to attend, before factoring in food and drinks. I have zero desire to go, especially since I can fly to Mexico for a fraction of that price.

Over the last year, I started seeing someone, and things are getting quite serious between us. I've taken him on a few trips, which made my friends jealous, and they've started asking why they can't use my benefits for a group couples vacation. My boyfriend dislikes the rude partner I mentioned earlier, so he doesn't want to travel with them anyway.

I put my foot down, explaining that ""no"" is a complete sentence and I don't owe anyone further explanations. Now everyone is mostly ignoring me for refusing to organize a group getaway, and the one friend still speaking to me is acting cold. Am I wrong?

08/25/2026

My husband’s best friend, Julian, is the kind of guy who genuinely deserves the world. He has a heart of gold and has always been the first person to offer help when we need it. He was even the best man at our wedding, standing by my husband with the biggest smile in the room.

When he told us he had finally found someone serious, we were absolutely thrilled for him. He had been single for a few years after a really messy breakup that left him pretty guarded. He had spent that time focusing on his career and waiting for the right person to come along.

When he called my husband last week, sounding happier than I had heard him in a long time, we knew it was a big deal. He wanted to invite us to a nice lunch on Saturday. He said it was finally time for us to meet his new girlfriend.

I was more than ready to celebrate this milestone with him. I spent Saturday morning picking out a nice outfit and talking with my husband about how great it was to see Julian so excited. We drove to the restaurant feeling entirely optimistic about the afternoon ahead of us.

To understand why that afternoon went so horribly wrong, you have to know about a specific chapter of my life from six years ago. Back then, I had a best friend named Victoria. We lived together, did everything together, and I trusted her implicitly with every detail of my life.

At the time, I had been dating a guy for about six months. It wasn't the longest relationship, but I was deeply invested and genuinely believed we had a future together. Then one Tuesday afternoon, I came home early from work and walked right into my own apartment.

I found Victoria and my boyfriend sleeping together in my bed. The betrayal was so absolute and so shocking that it completely rewired how I looked at friendship for a very long time. I didn't scream, and I didn't throw things at them.

I just turned around, packed a bag in silence, and moved back in with my parents that very same week. Luckily our lease was month-to-month, so I was able to sever my financial ties to her quickly and cleanly. I blocked both of their numbers and erased them from my social media.

I never spoke to Victoria or my ex again after that day. The last thing I heard through the grapevine was that they had officially started dating shortly after I moved out. I spent the next few years doing the hard work of rebuilding my trust in people.

Eventually, I met my wonderful husband, and we built a beautiful life together. He knows every detail about what happened back then, and he has always been my biggest supporter. I considered that dark chapter of my life to be completely and permanently closed.

That brings us back to this past Saturday at the downtown restaurant. My husband and I walked in and found Julian already seated at a booth near the back windows. He stood up to hug us, practically buzzing with nervous energy.

He explained that his girlfriend was circling the block looking for parking and would be walking in any minute. We ordered some appetizers and settled into the comfortable banter we always shared with him. Julian simply could not stop talking about her.

He told us how kind she was, how they had met entirely by chance at a local coffee shop, and how quickly things had escalated. He said she was the sweetest person he had ever dated. He wanted us to love her just as much as he did.

08/25/2026

I'm honestly still shaking a bit from this whole mall situation yesterday. I went out to grab some food with my best friend, who's also twenty-five, and we ended up at the Target attached to the mall. I really needed to use the restroom, so I headed in to find an open stall.

When I walked in, I saw that only the disabled stall was free, so I didn't have much of a choice. I went in there to do what I needed to do, thinking it wouldn't be a big deal since the other stall was occupied. I'm usually mindful of these things and don't take the disabled stall unless it's literally my only option.

I stepped out of the stall and immediately ran into someone on crutches who was clearly very upset with me. They started telling me that I was being inconsiderate and rude for using the disabled stall when I wasn't visibly disabled. I'm a person who hates confrontation and I struggle with terrible social anxiety, so I just apologized and quickly went to wash my hands.

The frustrating part is that I actually am disabled, even if it's an invisible illness. The Social Security Administration doesn't see it that way, and they've rejected my applications three times, which is so exhausting. I'm dealing with both Crohn's and ulcerative colitis, a very rare combination that makes daily life extremely challenging.

When I was just twenty-one, things got so bad that I lost my large intestine to the ulcerative colitis. I've had to go through multiple intense surgeries to get a j-pouch, which is basically a faux-colon created from my small intestine. The condition I have now is technically called ulcerative pouchitis, but it's fundamentally the same struggle just in a different internal structure.

Because of all these medical shenanigans, my body doesn't work like a typical person's does. I'm generally going to the bathroom ten to fifteen times a day, which is a massive disruption to my life. It's too much information, but the truth is I haven't had a solid bowel movement in fifteen solid years.

When my body tells me I need to go, I can't just hold it or wait around for a different stall. It's an urgent, immediate medical need, which is exactly why I had to use the disabled stall in the first place. I wouldn't have chosen it if the standard stall was open, but I didn't have any other option at the time.

The person with the crutches actually came into the restroom after I was already inside and using the stall. They couldn't have known my medical history, but they didn't even pause to consider that disabilities aren't always visible. I'm just trying to navigate my day without having an accident in public.

I don't think I should be forced to explain my complex medical history and missing organs to strangers in a public restroom. It's exhausting having to constantly justify my existence and my needs to people who just make assumptions based on appearances. I'm doing the best I can with a very difficult hand that I've been dealt.

I feel bad that the person on crutches had to wait, but my need for the stall was just as legitimate as theirs. I shouldn't have to feel guilty for taking care of my own urgent medical needs. Am I wrong?

08/25/2026

Being an international student means living an ocean away from everything you know, and sometimes the only things keeping you anchored to your roots are the boundaries you refuse to compromise on. For me, that anchor is a strict religious diet.

It is not just a preference. It involves specific rules about how food is sourced and prepared, and it is a fundamental part of my identity.

Maintaining this boundary in a completely new country requires a lot of planning, but it is a choice I make happily. I have never asked anyone to change their plans to accommodate me.

When I started my university course, the hardest part was the isolation. I was relieved when I finally fell in with a study group, largely thanks to a girl I will call B.

B was the unquestioned social glue of our course. She was loud, friendly, and always the first to organize weekend dinners.

We started going out as a large group almost every Friday. The places they picked were usually heavy barbecue spots or steakhouses, which meant my options were zero.

I never complained. I would quietly order a side salad, a plate of fries, or a seafood appetizer.

I always paid my share, I laughed at their jokes, and I made sure my restrictions never ruined the mood. But B could not seem to let the issue go.

Every time we ate, she would make these small, probing comments. She would ask if I was sure I didn't want to just try a bite of her steak, or joke that nobody was currently watching, so I could break the rules just this once.

I always brushed it off with a polite smile, assuming she was just culturally curious. Then, about three weeks ago, the temperature in the group drastically shifted.

The easy conversations stopped the second I walked into the lecture hall. The weekend dinner invitations quietly dried up, and I got vague, uncomfortable non-answers when I asked about plans.

Yesterday, I caught one of the quieter girls from the group in the library and asked her straight out what was going on. She looked everywhere but at me.

She nervously admitted that B had been talking about me behind my back for over a week. B had been telling the entire course that my religious diet was a sham, that I was pretending to have strict rules to make myself seem superior.

And worse, she told them she had concrete proof.

Here is the context you need about my digital footprint. I am basically non-existent on social media.

I opened my account in 2015, and I might upload something once a year. But my friends back home are relentless documenters.

They take photos of absolutely everything, and they tag me in all of it. If you open my tagged photos, you will find an avalanche of memories stretching back nearly a decade.

08/25/2026

I stirred up some controversy recently with my former best friend after pulling a petty move I don't regret. Taylor and I were best friends for over a decade. We met in high school and had been inseparable ever since through college, nursing school, and even landing jobs at the same hospital.

When my parents moved abroad, her family became mine, and her mom even called me her second daughter. A year ago, I was stuck in a toxic, abusive relationship and had to leave my apartment overnight. Taylor took me in without hesitation when I didn't have anywhere else to go.

I moved into her second bedroom, and we agreed this would be temporary until I could break my lease. I insisted on paying rent and utilities, and we made clear boundaries about shared space and guests. I'm sure this was important since we worked opposite shifts at the hospital.

But as soon as I moved in, she changed and became cold, passive-aggressive, and accusatory. One night, she blew up at me for not paying rent mid-month. This happened even though we'd agreed on a payment schedule since I was paying two separate rents and utility bills.

We talked it through, she apologized, and blamed work stress, so I've given her the benefit of the doubt. Then came more issues like having guests over without notice and complaints about trivial things like folded clothes left in the bathroom. Eventually, we had a major fight where she accused me of taking advantage of her kindness.

I reminded her I was paying bills, but she claimed she thought I'd just pay and not expect any say in the living arrangement. After that, we didn't speak for days, but eventually things became tolerable, albeit tense. About a week after this incident is when things shifted after a mutual friend's birthday outing.

I noticed some of our friends were cold toward me during the party. Later, one of them told me Taylor had been spreading lies saying I was messy, didn't pay rent, and was playing the victim. I was heartbroken and confronted her about the things she was saying behind my back.

She dismissed me and said she was tired of the drama, so I snapped and told her I'd move out. I said I just needed until the end of the month to find a place, to which she agreed. However, she then ghosted me and refused to speak to me.

Needing an escape, I asked a few friends if I could stay with them for the weekend to which they agreed. Only a day into staying at my friend's place, I got a message from Taylor's mom saying Taylor had packed all my things. When I got to the garage, my stuff was thrown haphazardly into trash bags and boxes, with some of my things broken or missing.

She even made sure to put a whole bottle of opened soy sauce in with my white clothes for extra spite factor. Her mom apologized to me, saying that Taylor had been acting strange recently and that she didn't know what her deal was. She told me she hoped things would get better, but she told me not to contact Taylor again until then.

Obviously I didn't listen and wanted answers, so I messaged Taylor on IG since she hadn't blocked me there yet. I asked why she had done this and asked for my missing things back. She didn't respond, but I got a message from her mother telling me to stop harassing her daughter.

Tired and sad, I didn't want to fight any longer, so I just blocked them both along with a lot of our mutual friends. I stayed in a hotel for a while, and eventually I found a new place. I've spent the last year healing, going to therapy, and starting over with a new apartment, new hospital, and new friends.

I even deactivated my social media for some peace, but that all changed last week when Taylor reached out through a new number. She said she felt awful and wanted to reconnect and apologize. Old me would've jumped at the chance, but something felt off.

I decided to reach out to some old mutual friends and found out that Taylor had been secretly dating my abusive ex behind my back while I was living with her. This was the same ex I was trying to escape at the time, the one who left marks all over me. I found out that they had been dating for sometime, but had just recently broken up.

I was disgusted, and I snapped, so I texted Taylor saying I'd love to catch up and made a reservation at one of our favorite busy Friday lunch spots. She showed up on time, but I stayed home in my pajamas. I kept texting her fake excuses before finally blocking her.

Then I had my mom send one last message telling her there's no need to text her daughter anymore and to please stop harassing me. At first I felt vindicated in my actions, but now I'm not so sure after hearing that some friends think I took it too far. Am I wrong?

08/25/2026

Parking in our neighborhood is a blood sport. The complex was built in the 1930s in a densely populated area with ridiculous real estate prices. We're wedged between two fairly busy train stations, which means there's constant, cutthroat competition with daily commuters for street parking.

If you get home after eight in the evening, you are essentially guaranteed to spend forty minutes circling the surrounding blocks before finally giving up and leaving your vehicle in a desolate industrial strip half a mile away. Our building has a private lot out back with assigned spaces, but it’s nowhere near big enough for every unit, so the waitlist is usually years long.

I don't even own a car myself, but my girlfriend, Jen, is a bartender. She drives back to my place after closing shifts at two in the morning, and the thought of her walking that half-mile alone in the dark made me sign up for a space the exact day I closed on my apartment.

It took two solid years of waiting, but when an older neighbor named Jake passed away, his spot finally fell to me.

A few months later, Jake's daughter, Claire, inherited his unit and moved in. She incorrectly assumed her father's parking space was just part of the deed. I found a silver sedan parked in my spot three times during her first month.

The building superintendent finally had to step in, pulling the lease agreements to physically show Claire that the spot was mine, and that she’d have to join the back of the waitlist like everyone else if she wanted parking. I figured that awkwardness was the end of it. I was very wrong.

A few weeks later, a massive storm system rolled in. It was the kind of sideways, freezing rain that instantly soaks through your coat and floods the gutters. I got home around nine-thirty that night, carrying takeout, and looked out my living room window to check the lot.

The same silver sedan was sitting squarely in my spot.

Jen was scheduled to come over at one in the morning, and I was not going to make her park a half-mile away in a torrential downpour. I walked down the hall and knocked on Claire's door.

She answered looking perfectly comfortable in dry sweatpants. When I told her she needed to move her car, her face crumpled into a mask of pure exhaustion.

She told me she knew she shouldn't have taken it, but she'd had an absolute nightmare of a day at work. She said her three-year-old son had been screaming all the way home, she was entirely overwhelmed, and the rain had started coming down in sheets just as she pulled onto our street.

She noticed my space was empty, figured it wouldn't hurt anyone for just one night, and rushed her sleeping toddler inside.

Then she looked at me with watery eyes and asked if I was really going to make a single mother wake up her sleeping child, drag him out into the freezing rain, and walk a half-mile home in the dark just to move her car.

It was a heavy, calculated guilt trip. But I knew Jen was driving home exhausted in a few hours, and I wasn't going to compromise her safety.

I told Claire I was sorry about her bad day, but my girlfriend needed the space. I gave her exactly one hour to move it before I called a tow truck, and I walked back to my apartment. By the time Jen arrived, the spot was empty, and the rain was still pouring.

08/24/2026

My husband and I recently went on a vacation with five couples from our friend group. I only know the women well, but we've seen all four of these couples quite often for dinners and parties. We planned this tropical trip for several months, so everyone thought it'd be a fun getaway for the summer.

About six months ago, I got a breast augmentation. It isn't a secret, because I went from a B to a D cup practically overnight. Most of the girls know about the surgery and they've been super supportive of my new results.

I'm honestly thrilled with how they look, so I wasn't trying to hide my body on this vacation. Because we spent most of our days near the water, I wore a bikini constantly around everyone. The other wives hyped me up and kept telling me how great the girls looked in those swimsuits.

Everything seemed fine until one evening when I sat with my husband and two other guys. One of the men, Luke, couldn't stop staring at my chest in a really weird way. I tried to ignore his creeping since I sat directly on my husband's lap at the time.

I figured Luke wouldn't try anything weird right in front of my spouse. I couldn't have been more wrong about his lack of boundaries. Luke drunkenly blurted out that his wife told him he should touch my chest during the trip to see if he liked the feel.

I froze and asked him to excuse himself, while my husband cursed at him in shock. Luke quickly backpedaled and tried to explain that his wife Leah wanted the exact same surgery. He claimed she just wanted his opinion on the texture, which still sounds extremely creepy to me.

I noticed my husband getting mad, so I joked that Leah should've asked to feel them herself. Leah walked over right then and seemed furious about her husband's wildly inappropriate confession. The tension skyrocketed instantly, so I stood up and announced I'd go grab a drink inside.

While waiting by the bar, I overheard their continued conversation on the patio. Luke apologized to my husband, who said they're good as long as Luke doesn't pull that stunt again. Luke then apologized for being offensive, but my husband curtly replied he wasn't offended at all.

Luke pointed out that I might still be upset by the crude comment. My husband just laughed and claimed he'd reel me in if I complained too much. He even blamed the situation on me and my colorful bikini tops.

I've never been so furious in my life, and I spent the rest of the night drinking with the girls. My spouse criticizing my clothes instead of defending me from a creep feels crazy. When I brought it up later in private, he ordered me to drop the issue for good.

I refuse to pretend his misogynistic reaction didn't hurt my feelings deeply. He should've had my back instead of blaming my swimsuit. Am I wrong?

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Los Angeles, CA
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