Sunday. At the coffee shop. Watching people pass by, as per usual.

Went out with one of my girlfriends last night for a much-needed Girls Night Out. We went to a Thai place for dinner, then to a pub to watch the Six Nations. The pub was FULL of people. Much better atmosphere than my much-beloved little dive bar back in Bangkok. As they say, the more, the merrier.

The crowd was split evenly between actual French people and Scotland fans. Probably not actual Scots. Probably just people who wanted to see France lose. I was originally rooting for France, but then Scotland made its epic comeback and I suddenly remembered I also have some Scotch in my family tree. No loyalty, whatsoever. I just like to win.

I told my friend about how I had tracked down the Hot Beef Stew when I was in Bangkok. She asked me if I told his wife what happened. I said no, mostly because I have already been in the very unfortunate position of having to send someone’s dick pics back to his wife and it was MESSY. I don’t want to get involved again. I’m old and I’m tired and I don’t want to be involved in the drama.

She gave me a look and said, “You want to fuck him again, don’t you?”

I shrugged and said, “Yeahhhhh, but only so I can give him a good, hard spank on the ass for being bad and say, ‘I’m gonna fuck you like the dirty little slut you are.’”

She recognized it for the joke it was and started giggling. I tried to keep a straight face but I also started giggling. Soon enough we were cackling loud enough for everyone in the room to stare at us. I am still giggling as I write this right now. I am not nice.

Shortly after this, she caught sight of a familiar face from across the bar. She leaned in to me, pointed at him, and said, “I know that guy over there.”

“Oh, is it someone from work?”

“No, I don’t know him personally. I’ve just seen him on the Facebook group ‘Are We Dating the Same Guy?’ He shows up on there ALL THE TIME!”

We watched him as he hit on three different women in rapid succession, then caught sight of me across the bar and started making eyes at me.

“You should go talk to him,” she said.

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“So you can go on a date with him, write about it, and then post about him on the group.”

“That is diabolical.”

“It would be really funny though. I would read that.”

I just shook my head and laughed. I’m getting too old for this shit. I just want someone who is gonna bang me six times in a row and then take me to breakfast afterwards. I’m sick of all the liars and cheaters and whores. I have no energy left for them.

Sometime later, she pointed out an oddity at the other end of the bar: a throuple. How did we know it was a throuple? Oh, it was very obvious they were a throuple. It was an older guy and two older women. One of the women was more attractive than the other. We guessed the less attractive one was the one running the show by the way she was acting.

My friend said, “I don’t get it. She is so ugly. How is she picking up all these people?”

“Oh, she doesn’t need to be attractive. She has confidence. She knows what she is so she doesn’t need to put on a show or pretend to be something she’s not. She can just get down and dirty. Besides, that’s what they say about swingers. They’re never as attractive in real life as they are in your fantasy.”

“True.”

We watched as the ugly woman roped in a tall, handsome guy at the end of the bar. She flirted with him for awhile before he politely excused himself and left.

“Looks like he wasn’t into whatever she was offering him,” I said.

“Yeah, he seemed intimidated by her. She’s definitely the one wearing the strap-on in this scenario.”

“Oh yeah, one hundred percent.”

The more attractive one left to go to the bathroom and the couple cozied up. I watched as they started looking around the bar and playing a game of ‘Who would you fuck at the bar?’ Unfortunately for me, they pointed right at me. When I told my friend, she started laughing so hard she was practically crying.

“I’ve been chosen!” I said. “For what, we don’t know.”

Luckily, the attractive woman returned and the three of them all left together without approaching me. I don’t even know what I would say to them. I was mostly in a blind panic because I’m struggling to work on my boundaries and it would not have been a good situation for me had they approached.

As we all know, I will literally talk to anyone off the street, and I had soooooo many questions for them about how they conduct their relationship. However, I don’t want to be involved in whatever they’re doing. I just have questions, as any proper journalist would. But ultimately, people like this can be extremely manipulative towards vulnerable individuals with no boundaries (like myself), so it’s best to just stay away.

Not today, Satan!

After this, my friend got up to go to the bathroom and left me sitting alone at the bar. I was immediately approached by a Nigerian guy who asked me if I was alone. I said no, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. My friend came back and he still would not leave us alone. It was… exhausting.

I was grateful my friend was there to help me fight him off because, again, I have serious boundary issues. Had she not been there, I would have been roped right in. This is exactly why I do not go out to bars in Hong Kong alone. I learned my lesson the hard way in Bangkok.

He told us he’s just here for the weekend as a tourist. We looked at each other and rolled our eyes. We started trying to redirect him elsewhere and away from us.

“Oh,” I said politely, “We will not be much fun for you then. We live here full-time. We’re actually quite boring. We’re only here for the rugby games. You should go to LKF. There are lots of bars and clubs down there that stay open late. You’ll have more fun there. You can meet other tourists like yourself.”

Still, he persisted. Again, no means no, bro! Finally, we gave him directions and he went away. We decided to leave shortly after that in case he decided to come back and bother us again. At this point, the Italy-England match had started and the bar had pretty much emptied out anyway. We went our separate ways and I walked back home alone, which is actually quite safe to do here.

Now here I am, still giggling over the Hot Beef Stew for some strange reason I can’t figure out. I guess I just decided to turn the whole thing into a comedy instead of a tragedy. There’s something quite hilariously satisfying to me about calling him a slut on paper after he called me that directly to my face while actively cheating on his wife. Such a simple solution! I don’t know why it’s so funny. I think it’s just my way of coping with years of compound trauma caused by all the lying and cheating men I’ve been with.

Sad, I know.

Anyway, what shall I do today? Perhaps take a hike up the Peak? The weather is perfect for it. I need the exercise after spending most of the last week in bed. I wasn’t feeling well at all. I did, however, stop obsessively watching the war on TV, which is good. Again, boundaries.

Off we go now! May your nights be much less interesting than mine…