Simple and fun topic. We make confessions here. Try to keep them truthful, because that's where the fun comes from, but let's also keep it light, because this isn't the life advice forum and not the place to cry. So a good confession might be: "I sometimes steal the salt and pepper shakers from the Spaghetti Factory in Gastown". A bad confession would be: "Every time I sleep with my girlfriend, I imagine my coworker instead of her". If you actually experience emotional trauma from whatever you are confessing, go do it at Church instead. I'll start with some examples:
When I was a teenager, my Grandfather lived in the house with us. He read Jake McCallum novels. My friends and I used to make fun of him because of how silly they were whenever he wasn't around, but my girlfriend and I would nick them from his closet to read the page long sex scenes.
I have never actually completed any of the Mario Games except for the first Galaxy. I used walkthroughs to figure out what the endings were like and bragged to all my friends about how great they were. Also, I have never played Prospector, but I have it on my computer. I use the folder to store pornography.
When I was ten years old, I had a crush on a girl in the same townhouse complex as myself. I had a card all nice and ready for her for Valentine's day, custom made and stuff. When Valentine's day came around, I crossed out her name with permanent marker and wrote in the name of another girl my age who was staying in our house with her Dad while he was trying to find work. She was displeased.
Two days ago, I was really hungry, and there was no food anywhere, so I stole my housemate's Pringles. I'm so bad.
When I was a teenager, I used to skim some of my parents' Captain Morgan's from their liquor cabinet, just a bit at a time for every party I went to. They blamed it all on my Grandfather's alcoholism. Also, in my final year of High School, a friend of mine gave me his full bottle of Fireball Whiskey to hold onto while he was out of town. I decided the best place to store it would be the liquor closet, and my Dad assumed it was his and drank the whole thing. There was still another bottle of the same whiskey, of course, that I could have given to my friend, but I drank it myself.
Share your confessions!
EDIT: It goes without saying, of course, that I'll lock the thread if somebody ruins all the fun.