Tuesday, again.

How did I lose an entire week of time? Aside from the fact that it was raining blood and frogs. I feel like the time passes so fast here. It used to pass much slower in Bangkok.

Speaking of Bangkok, I checked my web host mail and found my invitation to the Emerald Ball in Bangkok. It was sent on February 3rd. So I had already been back for like, a week and a half at that point. Interesting. Someone is clearly stalking me! I think we all know who it is, lol.

*side-eyes Hermes*

I was sad at first, but it came at the perfect time because it cheered me up right away when I saw it. Just the fact that I got one is special to me.

Also, I was stewing over that Russian character, wondering why he has not texted me since he left. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I finally cracked and sent the paragraphs.

God dammit.

It was just a summary of what I wrote about him after the date. I’m sure he really loved the joke about him showing up in a furry hat saying, “I take bride tonight” before attempting to carry me off into the night.

“Sir, this is a restaurant.”

Hahaha.

I didn’t tell him about the part where I was looking around the room in bewilderment like, “Who, me? Why on earth would you choose me?”

“You look like you fight back. I like women who fight back.”

Hahahaha.

I did ask him if I could use something weirdly specific he said to me for the “comedy material.” I felt the need to ask since it bordered on breaking the “contract” to write about it. I also said that if he didn’t complain, I would take it as permission to write about it. Then I said that I hoped he blocked me so he didn’t get any of the paragraphs I sent to him. Then I wouldn’t feel bad anymore and I could just write whatever I want to write about him.

In my mind, I sort of figured he blocked me as soon as he got off the plane and just went back to his real life. I’m sure the combination of jet lag, copious amounts of alcohol, and spicy scorpion sex made his trip feel more like a weird, opium-induced fever dream than anything else. He’s probably sitting in his office right now looking at my paragraphs thinking, “Wow, what was that?”

I don’t have an answer to that question either. I’m just here to make jokes about it because that’s all I am left with after our crazy one-night stand.

It really is too bad, because I think he would be fun to keep around. But just for the sex, because obviously it would never work out between us. I’m too woke for him.

He wouldn’t be able to handle the sight of me doing yoga to reggae music in front of a rainbow tapestry depicting a Hindu elephant god while reciting a Lakota prayer. I’m pretty sure his face would just melt off right then and there.

I also think my regular rotation of rap, hip hop, and jazz would wear him down over time. My playlist is too black for him. God help him when I play the Bad Bunny.

God even knows what he listens to. He’s probably one of those people who says things like, “Nobody appreciates Mozart anymore. That’s *real* music.”

Of course it is, but I usually only listen to classical music when I’m studying. I can’t listen to it all the time. I need more variety than that!

Anyway, he still hasn’t said anything as of yet. Maybe he never will. Maybe he blocked me and asked one of his Russian hacker friends to knock my website offline so no one sees what I wrote about him. Who knows?

Okay, you know what? Screw him. I’m making the egg joke. I don’t care if it’s borderline. I am not actually beholden to the agreement we made, especially if he goes full ghost mode.

Here it goes:

At the end of our encounter, he turned to me and started asking a lot of very personal, very invasive questions about my eggs. I’m not making this up right now. This is 100% real.

Not only was he concerned about the condition of my eggs; he also had a lot of opinions about what I should be doing with said eggs. Frankly, I thought he had too many opinions about my eggs for a man in general, let alone a total stranger who I had just met the night before. Who is this random man I picked up at the bar and why does he care so much about MY eggs?

He strongly suggested that I freeze my eggs as soon as possible.

“Why?” I asked. “Are you thinking about coming back to fertilize them later?”

He didn’t answer the question. He just continued on with his random little lecture about why I should freeze my eggs right now as soon as I leave this room. It was actually really weird, until I remembered he is a Scorpio and this is just his natural way. I also remembered in that moment that it was my natural way to tear him apart and eat him at the end.

Now this same man that was once so concerned about the state of my eggs has vanished into thin air. God even knows where he is or what he’s doing right now. I imagine that whatever it is is probably pretty boring. Why else would he need to distract himself by concern trolling me over my fertility?

Let’s be real right now: he’s probably already off fertilizing someone else’s eggs. It is what it is. Therefore, I don’t actually have to care about upholding the deal we made. I should be able to speak freely about all aspects of my date with him if I want to.

I just feel like the way my last two encounters ended was bizarre on both accounts. First the Irishman lectures me about how I “shouldn’t act like such a slut” while putting his shorts back on to go home to the wife he didn’t tell me had. Now the Russian is giving me unsolicited fertility advice before he gets on a plane and disappears from my life forever.

Thank you so much for mansplaining my body to me and trying to dictate the choices I make with it. I will be sure to remember your advice when I literally never see or hear from you ever again!

Men are so ridiculous!

I call this episode, “The Lion, The Witch, and the Audacity of This Bitch.”

The End.

UPDATE: He never answered back, so I went ahead and hit “publish.” Gotta get something out of the male messiness epidemic.