TIFU dafür dass ich damals bescheuert war?

Hey,

I’ll try to keep this crazy story as brief as possible. It’s about my former best friends, who totally let me down.

I was born with severe birth trauma and have had a severe form of autism since early childhood. Within the spectrum, however, I have at least average intelligence—though I’m not particularly clever—but until I was 30, I couldn't maintain any eye contact while speaking. I’ve always been extremely nervous, am incredibly absent-minded, and might come across as a bit creepy in certain situations.

I realized early on that this kind of social phobia—despite my naturally extroverted personality—combined with my awkwardness, my inability to make eye contact, and a few other traits, meant that truly attractive women wouldn't be interested in me. As a result, I became increasingly bitter and started treating my friends badly.

Women were initially interested in me because I’m good-looking and have a likable demeanor. But as soon as they noticed my nervousness, they quickly lost interest. I kept stumbling at that second hurdle.

I’m 1.88 meters tall and handsome, although at the time my friends abandoned me, I was quite unkempt and somewhat overweight.

As I hinted earlier, I treated my friends poorly starting at age 15 (I’m 30 now). It wasn't in the usual way, though; I was just annoying and engaged in endless WhatsApp debates about specific topics—behavior driven by my dwindling self-esteem, something no one understood back then.

The root cause was essentially my bitterness over knowing I didn't have a real chance in life, combined with the feeling that my friends weren't doing enough to help me meet women. That made me extremely curious, because my friends are usually successful and good-looking.

In 2018, at the age of 22, I had to drop out of law school due to panic attacks and hit rock bottom. Back then, I was completely unkempt and depressed. My only truly honest friend—someone who visited me almost daily despite his popularity, even though he could have gone elsewhere—eventually refused to even set foot inside because he found my apartment too disgusting.

It’s worth noting that he is quite vain; he’s the type of person who prefers not to get his hands dirty—not because he couldn't, but simply because he doesn't want to.

It eventually got to the point where he would come over wearing cleaning gloves—those yellow ones—which I found deeply humiliating. The main reason for this, however, was my porn addiction combined with my lack of hygiene at the time. Yes, there were dried stains from—you know—here and there, for instance on my smartphone screen or my T-shirt.

It sounds extreme, but millions of people aren't exactly hygienic. With people like me, others feel compelled to wear rubber gloves; with others, nobody cares, and it never becomes an issue.

I am bisexual, and I strongly suspect that this friend is too; he often sought physical closeness, and there were times he sat next to me with an erection, among other situations that hinted at it.

In any case, he eventually stopped finding me attractive because of the state I was in. Those gloves actually triggered a fetish for me—or rather, the fetish was already there, but seeing him in them massively intensified it, and it remains strong to this day. After a heated argument about something else, he cut off all contact with me for good, and I haven’t had a chance to exchange even a single word with him since. I spent several years in complete social isolation, and then—after what felt like an eternity of research and trial and error—I discovered that the root cause of my illness was completely different from typical cases and that my condition was actually curable.

When I told my friends about it years later, not a single one of them cared.

They cut ties with me on moral grounds, claiming I was a bad person and a failure who had only himself to blame—completely ignoring the fact that, firstly, no one had ever cared about my recovery and, secondly, no one considered that I had sometimes acted like an asshole out of sheer desperation.

Honestly, I don’t even know if my former friends know the real reason for my surly and morbidly curious behavior. I couldn’t talk about it back then, and—as I said—I haven’t had the opportunity to do so since.

I have only ever harmed myself with my actions, unlike truly evil people.

Besides, I know people with no impairments whatsoever who messed up far more in their youth than I did, without ever having to face consequences for it.

I’ve done a few nasty things—though nothing that ever really harmed anyone—but I am firmly convinced that status and success often play a much bigger role in how a person’s morality is judged than objective standards that apply equally to everyone. That’s sad, and that’s the reason for my post here.

There are also plenty of underhanded types who were never rude or aggressive but climbed the ladder through manipulation, sycophancy, and lies. They are often incredibly popular, whereas I’ve lived in total social isolation for years.

You could argue about whether the rubber glove incident makes him one, but simply abandoning someone who was struggling with extreme problems back then—and not even checking years later to see if I’d managed to get my life back on track—surely makes him one, doesn't it?

"TL;DR:" I lived in social isolation for years and got way more "karma" then I deserved.