I need to get this off my chest and maybe get some reality check from you guys, because I am living in constant, paralyzing fear every single day.
To everyone outside, I am the ultimate “Tiger Mom” survivor who transitioned smoothly into a “Queen Bee” husband. I am super scared of my wife. She is the kind of fierce where she doesn’t even need to shout—one black face or one sharp look and my balls instantly shrink. I do all the housework, surrender my salary, and follow her instructions like a recruit in BMT. If she says roll left, I roll left. I love her, but the fear is real. If she ever leaves me or divorces me, I will be completely ruined.
But here is my dark secret, my “dirty habit” that I cannot seem to shake off. For the past two years, I’ve been regularly visiting wellness centres, Geylang lorongs, and Siam dius/KTVs behind her back.
It started as a one-time thing during a “bro’s night out,” but it became a full-on addiction. I always find ways to scrape together extra cash—doing random side gigs, cutting down on my own lunch money, or maximizing “transport claims” from company—just to fund this habit. Every time I get a midnight text from a contact or see a new batch of girls arriving, the thrill just takes over.
But the moment the deed is done? Post-nut syndrome hits me like a freight train. The sheer panic and guilt are unbelievable. On the MRT ride home, my heart will be thumping like crazy. I will wash my hands raw, scrub myself down with Dettol soap at the public toilet, and sniff my own shirt 50 times just to ensure there is no trace of perfume or smoke. When I reach home and see her sitting on the sofa, my legs actually tremble. Every time she asks, “Why you reply message so slow?” or “Why you take so long to buy buying groceries?”, I sweat through my underwear and my voice starts to shake.
I know what I’m doing is absolute trash. I am risking my marriage, my financial stability, and my health. Yet, the moment the weekend comes or she goes back to her parents’ place for a weekend, the itch comes back. It’s like a split personality—at home I am a harmless, obedient mouse, but outside I’m risking everything for a cheap thrill.
Am I mentally sick? How do I stop this before she inevitably catches me and destroys my life? Serious advice only please, don’t just flame me, I already know I’m a piece of shit.