Saturday night. Out on the town alone. Found my way to a charming little French café that specializes in wine and charcuterie boards. I wish I could say I’m living my best life right now, but I’m not.

The first half of my day was okay. Someone from the shala recommended a lovely spa where I got a massage and much-needed deep-conditioning hair treatment. Then I set off to find a nail salon and that’s where the problems started.

I went to multiple places before I found one that was doing acrylics. They ended up taking two hours to give me the worst manicure I’ve ever received in my entire life. It was even worse than the first one I got here. Thailand is much better for nails. No one knows beauty better than Thai women. This is just a fact.

So there I was, trapped at this horrible spa, watching the betta fish slowly die in its tiny little dish, feeling the bad vibes it was bringing to the whole place. I told them it was sick and it was bringing them bad luck, but they didn’t listen. I guess that explains why no one came in the entire two hours I was there. They were all just standing around doing nothing. The sickly betta fish is definitely cursing their business from afar.

During this time, I decided to reflect on my terrible relationship with my Big Bad Vampire Ex. Ugh. Wow. I guess I never really sat down and thought about how much that relationship actually fucked me up. Like… wow. I sat there and relieved that whole nightmare while I was under the spell of the dying betta fish. What a time to be alive.

Here is my question: What the fuck was I even DOING with this guy? Ugh! People out here talk about BDSM like it’s some fun thing to do, but no. You’re wrong. It’s not sexy. It’s not romantic. It’s just fucked up on a deep, psychological level.

It’s like… how do I even begin to explain?

It’s like he was literally torturing me with the expressed intention of hurting me as much as possible. Why? For loving him? I don’t even know what the fuck that shit even was!

And then there’s this whole weird complex he had about picking girls he could “fix.” Like, so you hate me because you can’t “fix” me? Because I don’t want or need to be “fixed”? Or is it because I’m the only one who ever matched your energy and showed you what your true equal looks like?

Here’s my question: why does this asshole hate women SO much? That’s the part I never figured out. He is very clearly the asshole here! What is his deal? I don’t even know. Maybe it’s the the violent video games and Four-Chan manosphere Internet culture. Maybe his parents were crazy, abusive, hyper religious, conservative trash who modeled unhealthy relationship behavior in the home? I don’t even know anymore. Never really figured that one out, to be honest.

I remember meeting his parents. They didn’t like me. I didn’t like them either. My parents also did not like him. He didn’t like my family either. Yay for Team No One?!

I remember meeting his dad. His dad was clearly very uncomfortable with how intelligent I was. You know, one of those types that freaks out when a woman is both attractive and intelligent. Like, the math is not mathing up there.

Hmm.

You know his dad had a nickname for me. It was “Bipolar Betsey.” That’s what they called me at their fucking family dinner table. That’s ridiculous and absurd and so fucking disrespectful to my struggle and just straight-up misogynistic. Yeah, pretty clear the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree on that one.

Was that even his real dad? There was some kind of crazy story there. I don’t even remember what it was. That part came much, much later. I just remember the way he talked about his mom and it’s like… yikes on bikes.

The girl he dated after me was definitely one of these hyper conservative tradwife types. My friends and I used to call her the Jersey Shore Laundry Service because she would do his laundry for him while he was playing the video games she paid for. Hashtag GTL!

I could never, lol. Like, I’m very busy laundering my own mountain of clothes piled up at the end of my bed. I don’t have time for yours too, bro. I guess that’s why he dumped me for her?

I guess maybe it’s just Ye Olde Madonna-Whore Complex striking again? I guess that makes me the Whore, lololol. That’s funny. Wow. Just wow.

I don’t know. What a weird thing to look back on. This is why literally everyone in the universe gave my parents the most bombastic of side-eyes when they forced me to stay home and go to a Catholic university instead of just letting me do what I wanted to fucking do, which was go study in Paris.

And then they dragged me out to South Dakota, which is also crazy religious and conservative. Like, I thought my parents were Democrats. All my dad ever did was have screaming meltdowns ranting about how evil Republicans are. Now I think back on all of this and I’m just like… I don’t even know what the fuck was going on over there. That’s a mystery I have never solved.

All I know is that my dad is dead and my mom is batshit crazy and I am a much healthier person as a direct result of getting the fuck away from my entire crazy family. The End.

As we say in the White Lotus, “Wow, what was that?”

I’m sure I had more to say about this topic, but I had to take a break from writing for awhile. My friend from the yoga shala showed up for a charcuterie board and a glass of wine. She is the one who has been doing all the cult-adjacent stuff at the vegan place. Turns out she’s a writer and that’s just her version of Bloody Mary’s. Vibes. I totally get it now. 100%. That explains why I felt the need to go in the literal opposite direction whenever I went there. It’s not my story to write.

I told her I was writing about this guy and she asked to see a picture. I realized I don’t have one. I deleted all the pictures of him I had 15 years ago. I couldn’t look at them anymore. I just wanted to erase him from my existence forever.

I showed her the pictures of my Rare Pokemon instead. Spread the love. I just like to show him off in my binder like the flashy hologram he is. Like he gets his own special 2-part episode and then never appears again. So now I’m just out here bragging like, “Look how hot this guy is that I picked up at some random bar in Bangkok! Yeah, that’s right, I pulled that in. That was me.”

So I was trying to explain like… “oh my ex kinda looks like this, but pastier and whiter and meaner and way more unhinged and misogynistic, with significantly less cool tattoos. But this is the general type I go for.”

She understood what I was saying perfectly.

Anyway, yeah, I’m fixating on him and I shouldn’t be. But, well, it is what it is. It’s nice to have a special memory of a guy for once, instead of having to be trapped in the worst spa in Bali with the cursed betta fish, reliving the relationship that’s been fucking me up for the last decade and a half.

Somehow I feel like he will appreciate this. The Vampire, I mean. Not the Rare Pokemon. Maybe both? I doubt it. I don’t think they read this. Well, Merrick might. He has admitted to me on more than one occasion that he checks in because he’s waiting for his story. That’s probably why I prefer to withhold it. Hmm, I guess I could write about you, or I could write about Andrew or this random guy in Bangkok or Bloody Mary’s or literally anything else instead.

Awww… u mad, bro? Sucks to suck, I guess. 🙁 🙁 🙁

How was that joke again? “Up, up, up, and dowwwwwn.” It doesn’t translate into words. It’s an elaborate hand gesture. A mudra, if you will. He’ll know it when he sees it.

So anyway…

Currently trying to find a place to stay for the next week. I am drowning in options. It’s overwhelming. I don’t even know where to start. I’m just trying to filter for laundry but apparently no one does their own laundry here so it’s not a thing. I guess I could just pay for the service but it’s a whole therapeutic thing for me to do it on my own. It is what it is.

No idea what I’m going to do right now. Maybe just head back to the villa for the night. Figure it out once I’m in a calmer, quieter space.

No tattoos for me tonight. I guess it’s just not meant to be. At least not for right now.

Jeez, I need another massage already. I’ve opened up my hips and released all the trauma stored within. Now it’s my shoulders and upper back that are destroying me. Just call me Atlas because I’m carrying the weight of the fucking world on my shoulders.

I have no idea what I’m doing tomorrow. None at all. Oh well. I’ll figure it out when I get back home.

Have a good night, ya’ll!