Monday.
Spent most of the day yesterday recovering from my ridiculous Saturday night out. I only left my apartment to go to the coffee shop and the market around the corner to pick up ingredients for my “Hangover Drink,” which I invented after discovering the lack of decent Bloody Mary’s on the side of the world.
It’s very similar, but far more effective, I think. It’s habanero chili hot sauce and orange & carrot juice (which actually has 25 other fruits, roots, and veggies included) mixed with beer (I use Heineken because it’s the cheapest at 7-11 and the equivalent of Bud Light on this side of the world), garnished with a lemon, lime, and baby carrots. It works. I don’t know why it works, but it works. I’m sure someone with a better understanding of chemistry and nutrition can break it down for ya.
Shortly after I finished writing my blog post yesterday, I was randomly approached by an Aussie man looking for a place to put out his cigarette. In hindsight, I realize this is complete bullshit, as I know the table he was sitting at has an ashtray. There is also a “cigarette hot pot” (as they are called in HK) about 10ft away from him. He was clearly using this an excuse to chat me up, as I ignored him, pointed at the trashcan, and went back to my iPad. He came back less than a minute later and started talking at me.
The first thing he said is that he was hungover from his adventures out on Saturday night. I asked him where he went. He said Wan Chai. Ewwww. We all know what that means! Now we know why this man doesn’t understand boundaries, such as me repeatedly saying, “I’m actually working on something right now.”
Then he asked me if I am American. As you can probably guess, he, like most people I meet abroad, use this as an excuse to dump all of their opinions about US politics onto me. The absolute last thing I want to do 99% of the time is talk about the fucking Dump Truck. I especially hate it when expats say shit like, “He’s done some good things, but…”
Like fucking what, bro? He destroys everything he touches. He’s a predator and a rapist and a pedophile who is actively undermining women’s and LGBTQIA+ rights around the globe. Furthermore, why the fuck do you think I, an American citizen, give a shit what some random Aussie dude wearing floral swimming trunks and flip flops in public thinks about anything?
Ugh.
I really gotta master that Irish accent or start putting a heavier posh accent on, because I am getting really tired of these dumb conversations.
I told him I was just in Thailand to change the subject and asked him if he had ever been there. His response? “I LOVE Thai women!” Once again, we all know what that means when it’s coming from a white western man.
That’s three Ick’s a row. Time to Go!
Finally, he went away, only to come back 5 minutes later and try chatting me up AGAIN!
“Back so soon?” I asked in the most deadpan voice I could possibly muster.
“I’m just so intrigued by you.”
I wish I had a $2 HKD coin for every time I heard that phrase from a man. I could afford a serviced apartment up on the Peak.
“I have that effect on people,” I said, again with the deadpan.
He continued talking at me until I asked him if he had a card. He did not, so he went back over to his table to get one. I used this opportunity to flee the scene as fast as possible. Hopefully he does not come back again today.
I spent the rest of the day watching Irish stand-up comedy in bed. I re-read some of my old posts, trying to figure out how to turn my story into something halfway decent. As I re-read the story about climbing The Peak, a horrific realization washed over me.
This character is not the Hot Beef Stew. This character is Andrew wearing a mask.
I was infuriated! However, I have resolved not to give into my anger and instead decided to meditate on it. During the meditation, he came to me and started shapeshifting again. He said, “Stop projecting these random men onto me. I am not Sam from Bloody Mary’s, I am not your Hot Beef Stew, I am not any of these people. I am a Tulpa. You made me to be your inspiration. I am my own man. I want you to start treating me like I am my own man.”
Well, okay then. Jaysus. You can go ahead and be your own damn man! You’re a real boy now!
Okay, so, at least now we finally have THAT issue resolved. Ugh. Nightmare fuel.
What a year it’s been. Look at me out here finding my own way in the world and discovering who I am. I am so happy I came all the way to Hong Kong. I just need to figure out how I’m going to stay. If not stay, then figure out a way to stay abroad long-term and build up my writing career. This is it. This is what I am meant to do.
I once again reminded myself that I made the right choice in cutting off my family. It is absolutely outrageous to me that they know how happy writing makes me and all they want to do is cut me down over it. They are just so unforgivably mean about it! For no reason whatsoever! They don’t even bother to try to read anything I write. They’re just nasty no matter what. It is definitely the healthiest move for me not to maintain contact with them. Their whole world view is just toxic.
Besides, they will be negative about anything I do. It literally doesn’t matter what it is. They just want to shut me down and keep me in a cage of unhappiness and misery. The way they melted down when I finally came back to Hong Kong was ridiculous. It’s just not worth it anymore.
I had a really bad memory come up when I was in mediation. I’ve been suppressing this one for awhile. It was really hard to sit with because it involves my mother abusing me when I was a child. She is just not a healthy person at all. It’s gross to even look back on now.
I just lay there screaming “Stop! Stop it! That’s a child! Stop projecting this crazy bullshit onto a CHILD! You’re the one who needed to be in therapy! You’re the one who needed the medication! That wasn’t me! That wasn’t right! What you did to me just wasn’t right!”
I was screaming and crying for some time. Then it all went black for awhile and a feeling of calm washed over me. I opened my eyes and looked around. I realized I was hiding in my dad’s closet, buried deep under a pile of sweaters. I got up and walked out and he was sitting there on the bed looking at me sadly.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have been there for you. I wasn’t there for you. You deserve so much better. I’m sorry.”
“You can still fix it,” I said. “That’s why you’re still trapped here in limbo. You thought it was because you never finished your stupid Ticket Master case, but it’s not that at all. It’s time for you to stop working now and be the father your children needed all along. You need to be the father I needed all along. The only way I am going to forgive you and let you move on is if you do your job and look after me now.”
He nodded at me and said, “I understand.”
So that’s very nice. I’m glad we are working on our relationship now that he’s been dead for almost two and a half years.
Ugh, as much as I would love to keep writing, that Aussie guy just showed up again. He walked up behind me and then reached out to touch me on the shoulder. It scared the shit out of me. BOUNDARIES, BRO! Stop touching women you don’t fucking know! GROSS!
He said, “You disappeared on me yesterday. Where did you go? You just vanished into thin air.”
“I went home,” I said. “I have a life. I had things to do. I’m not here to entertain you.”
He laughed as if I had just made a very amusing joke and went inside. Now I need to pack up and leave before he comes back over here again. So icky. So gross. My safe space has been violated. Yuck.
Well, I guess that’s my cue to stop writing and get the fuck out. Now I have to make sure he’s not going to follow me home. Just the motivation I need to find a new apartment. Wonderful.
To the surprise of absolutely no one, he felt entitled to disrupt my work again to chat me up. I tried to scare him off by making fun of his outfit. “Are you wearing the same outfit as you were yesterday?”
He got flustered and said he lost his suitcase because someone at work thought it was trash and put it out into the hallway. Gee, I can’t imagine why anyone would do that to a guy like him.
He said, “I should go shopping and get some different clothes so you don’t think I’m some homeless random living on the street.”
Yeahhhh, that’s not really the issue here, bro.
Then I asked him if he was married. He said he has a kid but they never got married because they didn’t have “a real connection” or some shit. Blah blah blah. He said she got sick of his shit because he likes to party and go out while she had to stay home to take care of his child. Then he was ranting about how the piece of paper doesn’t really matter, which we all know is bullshit. Of course he is a lawyer. Of course he is.
Wow, he just gets grosser by the minute. Ewww. Red Flag Central!
I bet you $10 HKD he is actually married and just doesn’t wear his wedding ring when he’s on business trips like this. I meet a lot of men like this. It’s just… ugh. Gross.
Anyway, he is gone now, so I need to flee before he comes back. So gross…
Have a nice day!