Friday morning. Halloween. That means I’m turning 37 tomorrow. Crazy.

What am I doing for my birthday? Ummm… you mean besides sitting in my apartment alone watching House of Guinness? Nothing. Resisting the temptation to wander over to the landmine next door and see exactly what I stepped in?

Maybe everyone has already forgotten by now. It seems like they get “pissed” a lot. Unfortunately for them, I do not forget. In my defense, I was already documenting everything for several months prior to this event. I showed Irish Guy everything. I showed him my book, my website, my apartment. That’s why I thought he was on that James Bond spy shit. I thought he was just assessing the threat level in an attempt to protect his many secrets, whatever they may be. He chose to kiss me. That’s not my problem. He totally misled me about his relationship situation. He even waited until after his pants were already back on to even use the world girlfriend, and then I find out it’s actually a wife. How is that on me?

Anyway, I have a lengthy history with men, which I told him as well. He knew what he was doing. Now he is a character and he has bested the Englishman in literary form. Go him. Now I am the one who has been Big Trophy Game Hunted. It is what it is. The male ego is a powerful beast.

All is forgiven. I choose to find this whole thing hilarious and I find it all very amusing. Another scary little story for my Halloween collection. Hilarious, truly, indeed.

I still have not made a decision about where I’m going for November. I can’t even remember if I’m supposed to check out today or tomorrow. I am definitely in a haze.

Meanwhile, in Panama, I finally decided to write this guy back after basically going into ghost mode. He wrote back to me with a whole plan to fix my life that he apparently came up with in the 3 weeks since I saw him. I wasn’t into it. Like, at all. I don’t even know this person and now he thinks he can fix me? Bro, this is why you’ve been married and divorced two times already. I’m not trying to be number three.

He doesn’t even let me speak. He just talks down at me and dispenses all this advice I don’t want or need. I told him very directly and straightforwardly that I didn’t want him to fix my life and that I felt like he was trying to control me. He said, “Thank you for using your words. Have a good night.”

So huffy.

One of the other English guys who is a regular at the American Bar is hanging around at the coffee stand. I can tell he’s waiting for the bar to open. He’s been causing trouble with one of the bartenders lately. I have already mentioned him here before. He told me the other day the girl got in trouble because he kissed her at work. What an asshole. I dislike him already.

He keeps looking over at me and watching me write with suspicion in his eyes. Yes, it is I, the same writer who was in there snooping around your friends, asking too many questions about someone I shouldn’t be asking questions about. Don’t worry. I got all the information I needed to know. I won’t be asking anymore questions about him in the future. You can totally relax and chill.

This is the main perk of picking a spot to sit in and observe the people who come and go from that same spot at the same time every day. So many stories, so little time. I am so here for the stories.

Life is a very funny joke. That’s the problem with all these farang guys. They take everything too seriously all the time. They can’t relax and just take a joke. They’re like, “You’re too much, you’re too direct, you’re too blunt, you make people feel uncomfortable, blah blah blah.” Yeah, but they’re all English and Irish. They speak in a lot of pretty, flowery language, but they are never blunt or direct. They don’t speak out in the open. I speak out in the open. That’s why their feathers keep getting ruffled. It’s not proper to them for anyone to speak that way, let alone a woman of a certain status hanging around a bunch of riff raff at some dingy little dive bar in Thailand.

See how much I’m learning about the world? I was trapped in South Dakota for so many years. Always around the same people. It drove me crazy. Now I’m meeting all these new characters, each set crazier than the last, and it’s just the most amazing thing I’ve experienced in my life. Is it ridiculous? Sure. Do I love it anyway? Of course I do.

Oh, look at that, right on time. The second those doors open, this English guy is in there. Bright Flaming Red Flags. Stay away. Welcome to the dark side of Thailand. It only gets worse from here.

Maybe I should change locations. Get a new perspective on things. Remove myself from these distractions. Find a new set of characters to observe from afar. Use all the tips and tricks I’ve learned from the more seasoned expats here. Perhaps be a little less braggadocious about all my trophies next time? My new friend from Chicago advised me, “A gentleman never kisses and tells.” Well, I am not a gentleman, am I? I’m the Abominable Ho-man, globe-trot international postman, neighbor dick dope man. 😉 😉 😉

Okay, but in reality, I need to get my life together. What am I doing? Trying to write… something. I am a writer. This is the material the universe gave me to work with. It’s fine. I accept that. I mean, I’m not even mad right now. Mainly I’m just in shock, I think? One week ago I was crying over this wanker of a British Guy who somehow had me under his spell for two months even though he is just terrible in bed. Then all of a sudden this hot Irish Guy comes along and just knocks him right out of the ring and then disappears again into the night.

Now I’m just sitting here like, “Wow, what just happened?”

Honestly, like, all of this was great, but it just makes me kind of excited to see what’s going to happen next. You just never know when a new hot guy is gonna come wandering along and totally inspire you and make your day. I love that for me.

Seize the Day, indeed.

I don’t think the girl who sat in her university poetry classes could have ever imagined she would be running around Bangkok banging all these hot guys, but here we are. What a dream, what a life. I may not have ended up where I intended to go, but I’m exactly where I wanted to be… which is apparently helping myself to the stack of beefcakes on the international all-you-can-eat buffet. Hell yes.

I know I should feel bad about what happened, but I don’t, and I can’t. I mean, I do, but this man made a choice and that’s on him. I’m just grateful that I got to make out with a hot Irish beefcake. That’s where it’s at for me. It’s not that deep. I had a great time and I would do it again in a heartbeat. It is what it is.

I used to dream about falling in love and getting married. That didn’t happen to me. Instead I just got used and taken advantage of by men when I was young. Now I’ve grown up and that’s exactly how I treat them back. I don’t expect anything from men anymore.

I mean, look at this guy. He has a wife and a kid, yet he’s out getting shitfaced at some bar, following some random American he just met 3 hours earlier back to her apartment, and making out with her. He’s not treating anyone well here. Why can’t I turn it around on him and be like, “Thanks for being my hot Irish Trophy. Have a nice day!”

It is what it is.

Don’t get mad. Get even. Is it juvenile and somewhat fratboy-esque? Sure it is. It’s basically the equivilant of the Wall of Panties in every frat house on campus. Somehow I am turning 37 tomorrow and this is my mindset. What is that? I don’t know. All I can say is that it is what it is. I guess I got tired of being the sad, pathetic girl who gets abandoned by her boyfriend in Dubai and became a fierce Lioness out on the hunt in Bangkok.

Time to evolve into a new phase of life. What shall I transform into next? Hard to say. I need to pick a new place to go, however. It’s time for a change…

Off to do some research now. Have a nice day.