Sunday morning.

Oh my god. I just had the most ridiculous night ever. I went to the American Bar thinking I was going to meet up with one Brit, and then I walked in and British Guy was sitting right there. Whoops!

At first, he was very irritated by my presence, so I gave him some space for awhile. Eventually he started shoulder checking me whenever he walked by, which is apparently British for, “I want to talk to you but I don’t know how to approach you so I’m letting you know in a passive-aggressive manner.” It was weird, and things only got weirder from there.

So I went to sit down with him and the first thing he did was blurt out loudly, “I blocked you!” I said calmly, “I know, I had a dream about it.” Then I just felt relief because I thought of all the dumb shit I’d written that he hasn’t seen. Like a feeling of total relief just washed over me when he said that. I don’t know why.

I explained to him that I’ve been obsessing over him for weeks. Like, not in a scary, stalkery way, but in a way that I made him into a fictional character to resolve my feelings. Like, I don’t know where he lives or what he does all day or any of that crap. I just write jokes about the Roman Empire down in my notebook.

Now, most men I’ve had this happen with immediately run away screaming into the night. This one did not even bat an eye. He wasn’t freaked out at all, probably because he’s British and they like, basically invented literature. For the first time in my life, someone I had written about understood exactly what I was doing and did not freak out at me or anything try to call the police or throw a fucking tantrum. Nothing. It was weird. Very strange and unnerving.

He just said, “So I’m just an object you can project all your bullshit onto.” Pretty much, yeah. “Why would you make me a character? I’m not even that interesting.”

“You’re really not, but there are aspects about you that make you interesting. Those are the aspects that inspire me to write. For example, your girlfriend situation. After you told me you gave her 10k, I wrote a whole series on Ten Ways to Spend 10k’s. Believe me, I came up with all sorts of ways to spend your money.”

If only I could describe to you the look on this man’s face when I said that. It was a mix of amusement, horror, disgust, and annoyance. He just closed his eyes and started laughing helplessly.

I pressed him for information about the girlfriend again. He finally opened up a bit more about the situation. When he finally admitted the whole truth it was like… bruh, you know you are the guy from the Buffalo-Cow meme, right?

I said I had this whole image in my mind of him with some hot chick like half his age who was cooking for him and giving him massages every day and using his money to buy beauty products. So it turns out that’s totally wrong. Apparently she is a hair dresser and she won’t come see him outside of work hours so she always gives him the excuse that he needs to compensate her for closing down her shop so she can come see him. And then when she sees him, she does… ??? something for him, apparently? Something aside from ask for money? I didn’t get a clear answer on that. He just told me straight up that she doesn’t cook for him or even have sex with him on a regular basis. He just gives her money.

I was like, “Bro, you’re getting played. Hard. Everything you just described to me is like, emotional manipulation and financial abuse. That’s not okay.”

He keeps trying to justify it to himself. I can see it. He just keeps saying over and over, “That’s just the way it is here.” That may be so, but it doesn’t make it okay. It’s literally just the Buffalo-Cow meme.

If you are not familiar with this meme, it’s an audio recording of a Thai woman talking to her boyfriend on the phone. She’s saying, “I cannot come to see you, I need to work, my buffalo is sick, I need money to take my buffalo to the hospital, I need to take care of my cow and my buffalo.”

So when he told me the story about the girlfriend saying he needs to pay her to close her shop so she can come see him, I was like… bro, you’re paying for her to take her buffalo to the hospital, you know what I’m saying?

Somehow, I was not angry with him anymore. I simply felt great pity for him in that moment. It was like having a super power in a way. I just extended all the empathy I had in my heart to give him in that moment. Like, you poor, weary Roman soldier lost at sea. Come into my cave, Odysseus. Enjoy the magical wonders of the sea witch.

After this, he gave my feedback about all the things he did read, none of which he liked. I was okay with hearing it because he’s got this very nice accent. It’s great when British people deliver bad news because the accent really softens the blow. I was like, “Okay, I’m just reporting on what I see, but go off, fam.”

I told him I would not send him so much post anymore. I realized what I had done was essentially the equivalent of the scene in Harry Potter where the house fills up with unread letters from Hogwarts that all say the exact same thing. Now there are a bunch of owls looming outside the window, peaking in at him in a very menacing way, and it all feels very uncomfortable for him. British people hate being uncomfortable. This is a fact.

After all of this was said and done, we were left alone in the bar again while everyone else went out back. To his credit, he took the opportunity and said very directly, “Let’s get out of here while they’re gone. Are we going back to your place?”

I just laughed at him. Five minutes later, we were up on my rooftop making out. Why? Because I have zero boundaries. It is what it is!

As he was admiring the view from the top of the tower, he looked at me and said, “Why are we not drinking up here?”

“I invited you to drink up here, but you blocked me so you never got the message.”

“I see. Well, we should drink up here sometime instead of over at at the bar.”

I looked at him like… this is what it’s like to say something to a man and then have him repeat it back to you as if he came up with the idea all by himself.

“Okay, well, you’re the one who blocked me so you can decide to come over whenever you want.”

“Right.”

He still says things sometimes that I’m just like… ick… but I remind myself that he’s British so it doesn’t really matter when he thinks of the fucking Dump Truck. People in the expat community have a lot of weird opinions about him. I just try to stay quiet and observe what’s happening around me without inserting my opinion.

Also, he says he’s not racist and gets very uppity about it. However, he proceeded to use not one, but two different racial slurs right in front of me. Exhausting. So, again, really just reporting on what I observe with my own two eyes.

Still, I let this man back into my apartment because again, zero boundaries. It’s probably just an ugly hate sex thing. Remember when I said I wanted to hate-fuck a Republican? This is that, only it’s extra because he’s the British Colonizer type, not the MAGA type. I have no respect for the MAGA’s. They’re generally ignorant, brainwashed, and hateful, so I cannot take any of them seriously in general. It’s like talking to a cult member who has no idea they’re in a cult.

As I looked at him draped across my bed in the manner of a Greek statue, I realized that this was the third time he had stepped out on this so-called girlfriend with me and she should probably know this is happening. I have absolutely no way of doing this. I guess the answer is to just trust the universe to work the situation out itself?

He said I’m not his usual type. He’s into Asian girls. Oh, really, you don’t say? I told him he’s not my type either. I don’t really have a type. My type is guys that make good fictional characters. Oh, I guess he is my type after all. Otherwise I have no strong preference. As we all know, my preference is to sample from the international all-you-can-eat buffet.

I said, “You are right, I’m not Asian, but I am American, and you yourself admit that you’re obsessed with Americans. Maybe I actually am your type. You just don’t know because you’ve never had this experience before. You’ve become accustomed to doing things a certain way and that’s why you’re stuck here. You don’t know how to level up.”

He was stewing over that one for awhile. He probably still is. He left sometime before dawn to go feed the cats he rescued in China. Aww, so sweet, lol. He definitely lives somewhere really close by, but I don’t actually know where.

What a strange night. So strange. Unexpected. At least I could confirm that yes, this dude does, in fact, have issues, and it’s not all just me. So that’s very comforting, I guess. Yeah, I definitely wasn’t expecting to see him again, but I did, and he just magically got over whatever his issue was so he could follow me home. Crazy.

This has a very simple explanation. In Western zodiac, I am a Scorpio and he is a Virgo. Highly compatible. However, in the Chinese zodiac, he is a Dog and I am a Dragon, and we are not considered compatible at all. Then there is the British-American thing. When it works, it’s beautiful. When it doesn’t, it’s the Revolutionary War.

There you have it.

Astrology can be a useful tool when used correctly.

I’m suddenly having such a strange sense of deja vu. I feel like I’ve written this blog post before. Bizarre.

Anyway, I’m off now. I need to eat something to help me process this whole bizarre story. What is even happening right now?