Wednesday morning. Here at the coffee stand, as per usual. Writing the morning away.

All of the regulars at this stand know me know. There is one lady who always sits alone looking very sad and weary. She smiled brightly at me when I came in and said hello to her today. I like Thai people. They are always very smiley, even when they are sad like this lady is.

I did not go out last night. It was storming outside. Instead, I stayed at home, ordered Grab, and watched Netflix. I needed a night off.

Yes, the Hot Chef did text me. He wants to take me to a night market tonight, weather permitted. Let’s Goa! I love food. The best part of this trip is all the food. Am I having a variety of ridiculous experiences? Yes. Am I eating a lot of delicious food while doing it? Also yes.

Haha, British Guy, who? He’s the one missing out on all the fun because he’s a mansplaining mansplainer. I guess we just have different versions of fun. As it turns out, mine doesn’t involve paying vulnerable young women in SEA below minimum wage for sexual favors. I guess we are just not compatible after all.

Meanwhile, Ze German is back. I forgot about him when I decided to move back into this building again. He seemed very pleased to see me. He had a big ol’ smile on his face. Meanwhile, I can’t stand him. He has some very weird opinions that I strongly disagree with and don’t want to listen to. The fact that he is also a very handsome beefcake with equally strong opinions about the gym equipment in the building is not enough to make up for it.

Unfortunately for me, he is the type that insists on conversing with you whether you want to or not, so usually I am sitting on the rooftop alone minding my own business when he approaches me. He always sits down with me and starts talking and continues talking. So I really don’t ever get a choice in the matter, even when the conversation is as mundane as recommending under eye de-puff gels for long-haul flights.

So as you can see, I receive no shortage of male attention regardless of where I am in the world. The difference between myself and the British Guy is that I don’t have to pay for it.

Ha, I really do enjoy roasting him alive with my words as revenge. Oh, I wish I could tell you his real name. It’s so proper and long. It has three syllables! Yeah. I can’t remember his middle name though, which is too bad. I need it to design his custom monogrammed towel pattern. He’s gonna need to use that towel a lot in the future since he’s so slimy and gross. Might as well get him something nice, lolololol.

Hilarious.

Yeah, I feel much better now after making that joke. Well enough to actually leave my apartment for the day and get all of my beauty treatments done for my date to the night market tonight. Even if it doesn’t happen for some reason, I still deserve to look good. Look good, feel good.

Feel better about the fact that I took this scumbag home when I was wasted and he turned out to be a monster in the daylight. Alas. Can’t win them all, or ever, in my case. I guess I will just comfort myself with some delicious Thai food and the company of a beautiful Italian man. Poor me. Such a victim. Really losing out over here, haha.

Just sitting here giggling to myself about all of my clever lines that I’ve written in the last week and a half. I definitely needed some new inspiration. I’ll take it in whatever form it comes, even if it some loser Passport Bro with deeply misogynistic views on the world. Take lemons, add sugar, make lemonade. It is what it is.

Haha, the towel joke is funny. It’s funny because I set him aside his own set of towels and a terry cloth robe from the hotel just because I’m into doing little things like that. Does he appreciate it? No. And the reason he doesn’t appreciate it is because he’s not paying a housekeeping service fee for it. So, really, I’m the idiot here, and that’s why I need to make jokes about custom monograms in classy gold lettering to make me feel better about the bad choices I make in life.

Yeah, see, this is what gets me about the whole thing. They don’t want the “breakfast in bed” experience. They want the power that comes from exploiting a vulnerable person and forcing them into performing that as a service to them. That’s the thing that’s really fucking me up about it. It’s really messed up, actually. Like, deeply, deeply, disturbingly messed up.

Ewww. I just feel so icky and slimy now too. Maybe I will add a body scrub to my list of beauty treatments today. I desperately need something else to occupy my time and energy. First I’ll make myself beautiful, then I’ll get back to working on all of my stuff.

Right.

Trying not to think about how gross that whole exchange was. This is why you don’t take strangers home from bars when you’re wasted. Never again…