Sunday.

Sitting at a random cafe in my neighborhood waiting on a Bloody Mary. I don’t even want to talk about how much I drank yesterday. I just couldn’t stand to think about anything anymore. I didn’t go out anywhere. I just stayed at home and drank alone, which is sad. Then I went out on my rooftop and danced for awhile because that’s what I do.

I woke up today and all of my problems were still there. I just felt worse about all of them. I decided to take back control of my life. So I did the only thing I could think of in my power to do: I went online and I hunted down The Russian.

At first, I could not find any record of him anywhere, which was strange and concerning. Then I switched my VPN to the city he lives in. Voilà! There he was in his leather jacket, sitting astride a motorcycle. Yeah, I might have a type…

I got his Facebook, his Instagram, his LinkedIn, and the official website for his business he owns. Oh, I got it ALL, fam. Then I went on a deep dive into Creepsville.

Good news: There was no wife to be found anywhere, which is great news for me. So maybe he actually was being honest with me about that. It appears that he was being honest about everything else he told me, which is also good. However, we all know how men are. Just because he was honest about his work life doesn’t mean he was being honest about his love life.

What else did I find? Oh nothing terribly interesting, really. Just a couple of pre-pandemic posts subletting his old apartment. The apartment was… well… it definitely looked like it belonged to someone who spends his entire life at the office and/or traveling. What even was that furniture selection, bro? Did that ugly brown leather couch come with the apartment or did you pick it out yourself? Jesus, no wonder this guy is so obsessed with the idea of “having a woman to make a home.” He has absolutely no idea how to decorate!

Otherwise it was mostly just posts of him wearing leather jackets and standing next to motorcycles in various exotic locations around the world. I was relieved to discover that I probably would have swiped right for him on Tinder had we met that way. Like, okay, yeah, the math is mathing here.

I was also somewhat amused to see the leather is a running theme for him. That seems… very on-brand somehow. I’m not kidding. The entire reason he was obsessed with the bar at the Mandarin Oriental was because of the red leather couches. It’s definitely A Thing. He’s got a Leather Thing. I feel like that means something but I’m too naive to understand exactly what.

In addition to the ugly brown leather couch (which I have a feeling he will soon be replacing with a red one) in his apartment, he also had a clothing rack that was just all leather jackets in various colors. Black, brown, tan, blue, he’s got ‘em all! I was left to wonder… does he have the pants to match?

Not sure. I can only say for certain that he has two looks: business and leather. So now we all know what kind of person we are dealing with over here. I was wondering what it was about him that drew me in. Yeah, I think we all know what dynamic is at play here.

It’s so amazing what you can learn about people from what they post on the internet, lol. I zoomed all the way in on all of those pics. I looked at every tiny little detail of that apartment. You can tell a lot about a person by the items they own, and believe me when I say I judged him by every single one. Right down to his choice of espresso machine.

Yes, I know, I admit it. I am a shameless, SHAMELESS creeper. I don’t care. Somehow finding all of this information about this man who rocked my world and then promptly ghosted me right after made me feel powerful. Like I was somehow back in control of the situation. I can’t explain that. I just know it felt good in the moment to sit there and mock his furniture selection from afar.

Once I had satisfied my curiosity, I went on about my day. This is where things took a turn for the hilarious. I was unpacking my laundry I picked up from the shop yesterday and pulled out my darks. This bag contained all the items that were in my overnight bag that I took on the date. I was sorting through them when, very suddenly, there they were: a pair of men’s underwear. A pair of men’s underwear neatly pressed and folded up right between my kimono and nightgown.

I don’t want to jump to conclusions here, but…

Let’s think logically first: it could be that this is just some random man’s underwear that got mixed in with mine accidentally at the laundry. That is the most rational explanation. Horrifying, but rational.

Or it could be that this is a pair of his underwear that got mixed in with my stuff when I was packing up to leave. I’m not gonna lie to you: the vibe this pair of underwear was giving was 100% him. The only way they could give more of his vibe is if they were made of leather. I’m pretty sure I actually remember him taking off this specific pair of underwear. So now I have a souvenir, I guess? Something I can always remember him by?

It’s kind of horrifying to think I accidentally walked off with some random man’s dirty underwear in my bag and unknowingly carried it around Hong Kong Island for an hour afterward. That’s crazy, and also kind of gross. Also kind of hilarious. Like… okay. There’s definitely going to be a process of Acceptance that needs to happen here.

Like what do I even do with some random man’s underwear? Frame them and mount them on the wall like they’re a big game hunting trophy? Oh god, we truly have jumped the shark now with this whole dating thing, haven’t we? I have no choice but to get married now. I’ve taken this as far as it can go. It’s reached its natural conclusion.

So that’s how my day is going today. I am left thinking to myself, “It’s too bad I won’t see him again. I think we are both looking for the same thing.”

Well, apparently not if he stuffed his dirty underwear in my bag, got on a plane back to Switzerland, and then ghosted me, never to be seen or heard from ever again. Is this some kind of weird Scorpio love test? God even knows. Wait, do you think he thinks I stole them and that’s why he ghosted me? Oh god. No. Why? That idea is even worse! What kind of person intentionally steals some random man’s dirty underwear?

And this is how I invented my new catchphrase: “You can’t ghost me; I have your underwear!”

Hahahahaha! I really didn’t think I could top the Hot Beef Stew and his little collection of action shots from his sport of choice, but here we are. We have topped them all. And all it took was one misplaced pair of underwear.

Anyway, I’m going to eat something now. Not that I have much of an appetite after writing this post. It’s been a long day so far, and to think it’s only 1:15pm.

Love that for me.