Saturday morning. Hungover but dealing with it thanks to the Mike Tyson weed gummy ears. It’s a thing.

Sooooo how’s my trip planning going? Lol. Well, it turns out my Irish faerie godmother was correct. I spent too much time mooning over Mr. Potato Head and not enough time doing my homework. That means I didn’t get any of my paperwork in on time. So I cannot go to Vietnam tomorrow, but I can go there at a later date.

You know where I can go tomorrow? Hong Kong, or maybe Macau. Macau is appealing. I was actually trying to get a job there initially before I was offered Hong Kong. But I also feel like… what if I just go back to Hong Kong and see how I feel about it after everything that happened? Good plan. Let’s do that instead. Don’t overthink it, Betsey. You don’t have to move. You can just do a border run. It’s okay.

This is all very new to me, but no worries. I’ll get my SEA legs. I’m learning. I only take advice from seasoned farangs who have been living here for 5-10+ years. They know better than me.

Speaking of the seasoned farangs, I said I would report on this party I went to last night. Let’s just say I’ve seen parties at retirement homes that were more lit than this shit. It was lame AF. Finn and I agree that all the most interesting characters have left. There’s nothing to watch anymore.

So then we decided to play pool, which was a mistake because all the good old boys were there watching my every move. I couldn’t handle the pressure. I choked so hard. It was funny. I even walked up to them after and bowed and said, “There you have it. I have been humbled.”

They were super cranky about it. I wasn’t worried about it. I just play for fun. Anyway, the manager guy just hasn’t been the same since he lost his pretty little Irish boy toy. I can see it in his eyes. Girl, same. I totally understand your pain.

Then Finn introduced me to his friend and walked away because he thought we would get along. It turns out this was a bad idea because the friend and I did not, in fact, get along. I don’t even know what he was upset about. I just said I don’t drink kratom because it makes me hallucinate and I don’t like to hallucinate. I don’t enjoy hallucinogenic experiences. He said I have control issues. I mean, maybe, but I’ve also made some questionable choices in my life (especially recently) while under the influence, so maybe it’s better to reel it back in for awhile. Anyway, he flipped out, so I got up and went outside to have a cigarette because I don’t want to have these arguments. I don’t want to have to give a fuck about anything.

Finn and Co left after that. I could tell Finn felt bad about what happened, but it’s not his fault. This dude and I just weren’t vibing. Go out and have your stag night. I’m sick of men. I need some strong female energy in my life right now.

Unfortunately, the only other strong female energy in the room was preoccupied with her alcoholic boyfriend, who cannot be her boyfriend because he’s already in a relationship with alcohol. I felt sad for her. I asked if she had ever loved an addict before and she said no. I felt so, so sad for her. I have loved many addicts in my life. It’s a hard lesson to learn. I could not intervene. I simply had to sit there and watch her slowly figure it out for herself.

So that conversation was a failure. I turned to the other side of me and there was a gentleman who was just itching to chat, apparently. First he said he hadn’t read my blog, but he had heard about it. Then he said he hadn’t read it, but he had heard people reading parts of it aloud at the bar. Finally he admitted to logging on there himself and reading it. They all usually follow this pattern. No one wants to admit it until they admit it.

I said he could ask me whatever he wanted and he had free reign to state all of his opinions directly to my face. He had some questions. That’s fair. Just do me a favour, bro. If you ask me a question, please let me finish my story before you interrupt me and start asking more questions. It’s like watching a movie and interrupting constantly to ask questions about the plot that will eventually be answered if you just shut up and watch the goddamn movie.

Then he wanted to talk about more serious topics, like Afghanistan and abortion. I’m just like… ugh. I did not come here for this shit. Please, please, I beg of you, do not get me started on Afghanistan. We will be here all day. Oh Christ, we’re talking about fucking Afghanistan. I hate that fucking shithole country.

There’s a reason why Alexander the Great didn’t want it! Here’s what happened, okay? He rolled up after partying in Persia and India. Hashtag Legend… wait for it… dary, right? Right. They were lit AF back in the day and they are still lit AF now. Anyway, so he went to Afghanistan and saw a bunch of gross dudes fucking goats on the side of the road. He was like, “Fuck this shit, imma head out. Life is too short. I’m going to die soon. I’m not wasting the time I have left in this godforsaken, cursed place.” And then no one in history ever took this lesson for what it was. Now Afghanistan is still, to this day, the exact same shithole it was back in antiquity. Fuck that.

Anyway, I didn’t come here to give a fuck about Afghanistan! Now I’m sitting here giving a fuck about Afghanistan. These Mike Tyson gummy ears aren’t strong enough to get me through this.

So then he changed the subject to abortion, and wow, can you even believe it? Somehow I give even less of a fuck about this topic. I literally do not care what men think about abortion. I don’t want to have this debate with any of you. I don’t care. I literally do not give any fucks about your opinion on this topic.

I even had to spell it out for him directly, “So your married friend was in here a few weeks ago fucking around. He lied directly to my face about his status. What if I had gotten pregnant from that encounter? This dude is already married with a legitimate heir. Am I supposed to just raise his bastard child all alone with no money, no options for decent education, and no healthcare, just because you think we need to have more than 8 billion people on the planet? Meanwhile, this guy is just off the hook for all of it simply by virtue of being a man? No. This is why they keep digging up mass graves full of baby skeletons in Ireland. These men just abandon their fucking children that they made with their irresponsible sperm deposits and women get punished for it. That’s bullshit. Women have the right to make the choice that’s right for their situation. I’m done with this conversation.”

Then he kept screaming, “YOU killed a child!”

Bro, calm the fuck down. I haven’t killed anybody. Second, I have never been in a position where I have to make the choice in question because I use birth control and I was celibate for like 10 years. However, I do know many women who have been in that situation and I’ve seen them make a variety of choices with different consequences and outcomes. Again, I don’t care what you think. None of us do. It’s not your business. A woman’s choices are her own. We’ve always made them since the beginning of time and we will continue making them until the end of time. We will find a way whether it’s legal or not. There’s always going to be a witch living in a cottage outside of town in the local bog, savvy? What do you think she’s doing in there? Making tea? Yeah, guess what, she is making tea. It’s abortion tea made with the sacred plant medicine that the Creator bestowed upon us as a gift. So shut the fuck up and get the fuck over it.

I had to leave after that. I didn’t come here to give a fuck! I don’t want to talk about Israel vs Palestine or Afghanistan or abortion or drugs or the fucking Dump Truck. I left America because I couldn’t take that shit anymore. Now I’m here in Thailand and I just want to drink and smoke and fuck and play pool and laugh about it all later when I write it down. Stop trying to debate me and just listen. I have so many crazy stories. You wouldn’t even believe it.

For example, I have a crazy story about going to an illegal sex toy shop right here in Bangkok. Unfortunately, you’re too busy ranting about abortion to hear about it. Both you and your wife could be having a great time and supporting a small local Thai-American business right now, but you don’t want to listen. You want to talk about Afghanistan and abortion. What a fucking buzzkill.

The only thing we could agree on is that I need an editor and that my blog is full of random errors because AI frequently changes things without my knowledge. We also agreed that it was unnecessary for him to waste his time and energy mansplaining the different branches of the American military to me. Thank god. Like, I know. I already know. I know so much more than you give me credit for. The things that I know about the world would shock you. The things that I’ve seen would shock you. This ain’t my first time around the rodeo.

Anyway, yeah, no trip to Vietnam for me tomorrow. Sad. But also, 100% my own fault. Now we have learned this lesson the hard way, as we must learn all lessons in life.

Ugh.

That conversation was stressful. I’m getting stressed out just reliving it. I just remembered the part where he asked me about my Indian ex. So stressful. What a stressful conversation.

The story itself is not that complicated. The way people talk and think about Indian people is what makes it a difficult story to tell. People come into this conversation with all of these assumptions beforehand, so in their minds they already think they understand the situation because of whatever stereotype is already living in their head. But here’s the thing… He’s not a fucking cartoon caricature from the Simpsons. He’s a human being. He’s complicated. He’s real. I loved him for a time, but we made a business deal, and he violated the terms of that deal. He did not hold up his end of the arrangement. He broke the promise he made. Everything he has done since has shown me he is not serious about marriage. Period. Now it’s over. I’m not going back to him again. That’s it. The end.

And that’s the other thing. They don’t want to be judged for marrying Thai women because stereotypes aren’t real, but they are perfectly happy to judge me for wanting to marry an Indian man because stereotypes are totally real? Wait, what?

The double standard strikes again!

So yeah, I can go out and slut it up in Thailand at the expat bar if I want to. I’ve been through enough in my life. I don’t want anymore pain or anger or sadness. I just want to laugh and have fun and make up for all the time I lost to depression. I want to write fake Bridgerton-style love letters and go to the spa to study Thai massage techniques so I can try them out on these guys later. I want to run around Bangkok making a list of all the creative ways I would spend my rich boyfriend’s water buffalo money. I want to make jokes about the House of Guinness and big game trophy hunting and Irish bog witches and hot beef stew and all that jazz.

Let me just live my life. Stop policing me all the time. Jesus Christ.

At some point I extracted myself from all of this and went outside for a cigarette. Some random dude from London was on his way out and stopped to chat with me. He was explaining to me why I should try to find a job in marketing instead of teaching. He was so right. I listened to him explain his career journey in Thailand in a way that made me question everything I had been thinking about all week. It gave me a different point of view on the situation, which is exactly what I needed. It was one of those weird conversations that happened at the right time in the right place. It felt like fate.

As he was about to leave, he reached out his hand to shake mine.

“What was your name again?” I asked.

“I’m Andrew.”

😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

That’s not even the worst part. I went inside right after that and continued watching the door. About five minutes later, a man walked by and looked in the bar. I swear to fucking god he looked exactly like My Andrew. It was freaky as fuck. It was some real spooky Thai ghost shit. I don’t know if it was the ghosts or the weed or the alcohol or a combination of all three, but I saw him and it was fucking spooky AF.

And then my face melted off and it was time to go home. The end.

Andrew. Andrew. Andrew. Every time I hear that fucking name, my face melts off, and it’s because I only meet people with that name at crucial life moments. I have no idea how this snake wove his way so deeply into my story, but it’s definitely A Thing. I think we were probably together in a past life. That must be it. There is no other reason for this bullshit.

Okay, I need to stop mooning over all of these potatoes out in my moonlight garden and buy a plane ticket. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m learning, I’m learning. Give me a break.

Hong Kong? Hong Kong! Ding dong, ding dong, let’s all go back to Hong Kong!