Thursday morning. Here we are post-spa day. Was it the best choice I could have made financially at this moment in time? No. Did I make that choice anyway because it was exactly what I needed? Hell yes.

Of course I got my nails done, but I also did a 3 hour spa treatment that included a sauna, body scrub, aromatherapy massage, hot stone massage, and a head/back/neck/shoulder massage that was on a completely different level than whatever they were calling a massage in Bali. Someone even made the joke to me in Bali that if I wanted to get the knot out of shoulder, I needed to find a very determined Thai woman to do it. Yesterday, we found that Thai woman. Mission Accomplished.

I thought it would be over once she got the knot, but she just kept going. She got way deep into my meridian lines, if you know what I’m saying. Having just studied Yin Yoga theory for a month, I realized I knew exactly what she was doing, I just had not been shown how to do what she was doing.

At a certain point I stopped relaxing and just started taking notes on her technique. Like, girl, how are you even doing that right now? I didn’t even know that spot existed. Sure I saw it on the mannequin at school, but— oh my god, did she just lift me up by the back of my head and bend me backwards? I can’t even get this kind of backbend in yoga, Jesus…

Okay, now I’m starting to understand this whole obsession with Thai women, but that being said… I still can’t believe this guy is only paying someone 10k THB per month for this. That just feels like a low-ball offer. I don’t know. Maybe she still needs to work on her backbends and he’s planning to raise her salary when she masters the technique? Idk.

I did the math and 10k THB/month isn’t even enough to cover the monthly beauty maintenance fee, assuming she is using top-notch services and not going for the cheap stuff. That includes everything: haircut, color, treatment, style, massages, scrubs, nails, eyelashes, waxing, facials, makeup, skincare, shopping for fun outfits to keep things exciting. God forbid you want throw in a little Botox or need some kind of dental work, which is actually quite reasonably priced here.

So not only is this British Guy paying this random woman half his age less than minimum wage to play house with him, he’s also not paying her enough to keep her looking good while doing it. Hmm, so he’s bad in bed, has an obnoxious, pedantic personality, and he’s stingy with money. Terrible combination. No wonder he’s still unmarried at age 42.

That is just outrageous. What is even more outrageous is that I banged this guy after one hour of conversation. What’s worse is that he was wearing socks with sandals and a fucking Fanny pack strapped across his chest. Like, what? And I dropped my panties in an instant just because he went on some rant about the Roman Empire? What is wrong with me?

Actually, I know the answer to this question. The answer is Kratom Tea. It’s everywhere here. I was drinking it that day at the Pot Shop with some Australian guy and I had never had it before. I also got super stoned on the good weed and then I got drunk on Big Changs. And that’s how I ended up in bed with Mr. Roman Empire and his vast collection of underpaid servants.

Choices: I made them. I was heavily under the influence when I made them, but I made them nonetheless.

And here we are now, laying a dark room as this very small Thai lady with the strength of a pair of oxen bends my yoga body into brand new shapes I didn’t even know it could make, reflecting on those choices I made.

Anyway, god help the man who can keep it together long enough to handle me for more than one night in the bedroom. He will not know what hit him, lol. I’ll be carrying a brand new Birkin by the end of the week. Mwa hahaha. Hashtag Get Dat Bag.

Don’t get mad, get even. Go see what all these guys are coming all the way to Thailand and paying not so much money for. You know what they say… if you can’t beat them, join them.

Anyway, so after getting myself sorted in the beauty department (aside from my hair, which I am just letting grow at this point so I can see how long it gets), I was no longer in the mood for male validation. Ultimately, I canceled my date with the Hot Chef because I was too tired. Also because the night market he suggested was closed and he wanted to go back to the place with the weird pool shark people and I was just so not into the vibe.

Leftover takeout and Netflix it is.

Well, isn’t this just so much fun? Look at me. I am just learning so many new things every day. Too bad none of those new things include finding a job or making money. It’s just me making bad choices and sinking myself into a financial hole while doing it. Lovely.

It’s okay, I’ve only been out of South Dakota for four months. Of course I’m still disoriented and have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. I feel like I just escaped a cult; like they were holding me hostage in the FLDS compound in West River and now I’m finally free. You know what happens to people who flee from cults? They fucking struggle for the first year or so. They struggle with everything from choosing at outfit to cutting their hair to finding a job to interacting with other people in a normal way. Every single little choice is overwhelming. Flashbacks can happen at any second. A single meltdown can take them out of the ring for days. So many get lost in the hole of depression and addiction. It’s a dark place to be.

I am definitely struggling with all of these things. I am 36 years old and this is the longest in my life I have ever been away from my crazy, controlling family, which feels very much like a cult sometimes. I was also living in South Dakota for like 15 or 16 years against my will. It was a terrible experience. That’s not a joke. I sustained very real trauma while I was living there. I don’t like to think about it at all. And you know, SD isn’t a free place. You can’t just be yourself there like I’m doing right now here in Thailand. The subtle ways they keep control over people in that state is actually pretty terrifying, especially now that I’m seeing those same tactics pushed on everyone else in the USA.

This is why I haven’t emailed the WashPo writer my portfolio yet. He wants to read some of my stories about SD. Unfortunately, I can’t even look at those stories without screaming. I tried to open up the folder the other day and it just hit me so hard. It was like a ball of darkness just came out of the computer and hit me right in the chest. I just closed my laptop and curled up into a ball and cried.

Please don’t make me go back there. Please don’t make me relive any of that. I’ve worked so hard to escape from it. I’m not ready to go back.

I need more time before I can even look at Bloody Mary’s again. I can’t. I just fucking can’t. I just look at that manuscript and remember being screamed at in the streets and then tackled by the cops and pushed in the back of the cop car. All because some jackass didn’t like the stupid little stories I wrote mocking him and all of his stupid little friends. That was not funny. That was real. And to have to go through that and be treated like dirt that no one will step on by these trash people who are not trying to destroy the entire country with that same trash attitude… yeah, sorry I’m not in a rush to relive that entire experience after I did magic mushrooms and went to the sweat lodge and traveled all the way from India to Bali just to learn enough yoga to sweat all that toxic shit out of me.

What a shit position to be put in. Oh, so now you’re interested in what I have to say about SD now that I have nothing to fucking say about it anymore except for how terrible it was. I don’t find any of these stories charming or funny anymore. I don’t miss Bloody Mary’s. I don’t miss that stupid town. I don’t miss any of those horrible, two-faced, backstabbing assholes. I never, ever want to go back to that horrible place ever again.

When people ask me about my life in SD, I just say, “It was terrible. I hated it so much there. Don’t go there. It’s a bad place full of bad people. I still can’t believe I got stuck there for as long as I did. Anyway, I’m actually from the DC area. Yes, Northern Virginia. My family is from New York, New Jersey, and Ohio. I am not a South Dakotan and I never will be. I have nothing in common with those people. I strongly advocate that people carry a passport and read extensive travel warnings from the DOS prior to traveling there. And just a fun fact: when you watch all the old spaghetti westerns like I did with Mad Dog, no one ever speaks highly of the Dakotas. All of these characters had trouble up there. That’s why they came to the Bonanza ranch or Silver City or wherever the fuck it is that Sheriff Matt Dillion and the Rifleman live. Okay? Okay.”

Anyway, so that’s a real struggle for me right now. I need to find a way to overcome that. Baby steps, baby steps. I’ve already done so much work mining out my deep well of raw emotional trauma.

It’s funny. When all of that came out just now, I didn’t feel angry. Not like I’ve felt angry before. I just dumped it out and put on the paper and then turned it into a joke. It’s all just one big fucking joke. Progress. That’s progress!

I’m definitely here to turn South Dakota into an even bigger joke than it already is. Same with this British Guy. I’m not actually mad at him. It’s not like we had a real relationship. We met, we banged, he wrote to me at the yoga shala when he shouldn’t have been writing to me because I was supposed to be celibate (the micro-obsession I have developed with him is exactly the reason why), he got my attention, I got fixated on his character because that’s what I do (and I did warn him that would happen), and then he disappeared back into whatever sinkhole he crawled out of so he can exploit a woman half his age for “sex” (which I assume he defines as a massage with a happy ending based on his mediocre bedroom skills).

I feel like I didn’t even bat an eye. I just peeled those rotting lemons, cut off the gross bits, squeezed out the juice, added sugar, mint, a bit of lime, and a lot of vodka (or tequila, if you prefer), and garnished it with a colorful little umbrella so I could post it on my blog. I did that pretty much immediately. I didn’t even waste any time. I did it like it was absolutely nothing to me to just wipe the fucking floor with his essence, like it was exactly what I expected to happen so I just bought all the ingredients in advance. Like, look, see what I did there? I’m learning. No worries. No worries at all!

Yeah, I still have a lot of work to do before I can present as an even remotely normal person. I don’t think I’m ever going to be capable of that because of the neurodivergence, but I definitely need to learn to lighten up and relax a little bit more. Compared to the average Thai person, who is basically just existing all the time at Level 10 Chill, I am a fucking mess and a half. Zero Chill. None. I just have none! That’s me all the time.

That’s why all these old men are constantly making jokes at me that I need to find a man who will “give me duck feet.” Yeah, right, I don’t think that’s here in Thailand. All the men are too busy receiving duck feet from their women they’re so happily exploiting to actually give them back in return.

At least now I actually know about all of this. It’s not just a YouTube video or a picture on Instagram or a thread on Reddit. It’s my real life and I’m out here living it. Woo hoo! Go me!

Here is my new life goal, inspired specifically by living in Thailand: learn to be chill. Chill enough to get on the motorcycle without freaking out and having a meltdown. Chill enough to get a tattoo. Chill enough to not jump into bed with some guy just because he was reciting his favourite lines from his own personal translation of The Iliad.

We all know The Odyssey is better anyway. The Iliad is just a boring war epic. The real adventure is what happens on the way home from the war. That’s my jam.

Okay, I’m done with this for today. I need to go home and rethink my life. I have no idea what I’m doing at all, lol. Just sitting here staring at my physical travel blog plan all rolled up in a big binder, waiting for it to magically leap onto my computer screen and transform this pathetic little website into a money-maker, or something.

In the meantime, I will just look at my pretty new manicure. I got the shellac that needs the magnets when you put it on so now it changes between green, purple, and silver depending on the light. They are like… Dragon claws. Rawr, lol. Exactly what I needed.

Off now. Have a good day!