Wednesday evening.

At the Cantina. I came here to distract myself from stewing over the Russian. This proved to be a good idea. For one, it’s very busy. Two, the owner is here. He greeted me by asking how my book is going. He, like every man I know, asked if he has a part in it. I told him his restaurant has a part in it. He suggested I throw my book release party here, then told me to go get to work.

So here I am.

Definitely trying not to stew over The Russian right now. How many times can we beat this dead horse, seriously? This is a very Russian thing to do, maybe? How many times did they have to kill Rasputin before he actually died? It’s exactly like that.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” he said.

Don’t worry, sweetheart. This isn’t love. This is just some sick, twisted obsession I’ve developed in the vacuum of your absence. It’s definitely not “love.” It’s a psychological condition I have.

You see, oxytocin is basically like heroin to me. I don’t get it very often, so when I do it’s like getting super duper high, and then when the guy inevitably disappears, it’s like coming down really hard and then going into withdrawal.

Think of the scene in Trainspotting when Ewan McGregor locks himself in a room with a couple of buckets, a TV, and some canned goods. That’s basically what I’m doing right now by writing about you.

Who knows how long it could take to get this out of my system? I heard those fancy Russian designer drugs are pretty intense. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. Some other guy will come along soon enough and then I’ll switch my focus to him. And so on and so forth, forever and ever. As one of my expat friends in Bangkok said, “They come, they go, you cum, they go.”

Anyway, here I am, at a random place in Hong Kong, surrounded by people socializing and talking to each other as I sit on my iPad alone in the corner typing away as if no one else is here. Wonderful. Sometimes I ask myself what the fuck I’m doing here. I love it, but I feel like I’m not doing anything. I guess I’m writing a book. A book about traveling across the world to start over and finding yourself instead. Something like that, something like that. I think.

I’m not actually writing anything important right now. I’m just typing intensely to make myself look busy and important in order to disguise the fact that I am depressed and alone. Classic. At least I’m pulling it off. Everyone in here is definitely not paying attention to me, but if they were, they would definitely think I’m busy with something. Grand.

I do wish I had not met him here. Now this place is ruined for me, which is unfair because it’s my favourite place. Now I look over and I just see him there in his ridiculous blue leather jacket. So annoying! Men are the worst, truly. Why did you have to ruin my fav neighborhood bar for me?

Oh, I guess we have a Hollywood type sitting over in the corner here. He’s talking about some show he made and name-dropped HBO. Everyone he’s with is surrounding him in a circle and hanging off every word. Very Hollywood.

As someone who aspires to be a Hollywood type, I am treating him like he doesn’t exist and he’s not the most important person in the world. Someone has to do the grunt work of writing the script while the fans are fawning over Mr. Rockstar over there. This attitude is essential in this industry. You can’t get starstruck. You have to treat these people like they’re your equals or they’ll steamroll right over you. Ask me how I know!

Oh, I guess this is the big media gathering here tonight. Apparently there is an American who works for CNN standing behind me right now. Fun! I would introduce myself, but I have no idea what to say.

“Hi, I’m an American writer living in HK with a legal residency permit and no employment. May I trouble you for a job?”

I don’t think so.

I’ll settle for eavesdropping for now. And, of course, typing away on my keyboard in a room full of media execs, looking very busy and important, ignoring them all as if they are not here in my bar when I am trying to stew over meaningless, irrelevant bullshit.

Networking success, obviously.

This CNN guy isn’t very observant. Otherwise he would notice me eavesdropping. I could very easily transcribe his conversation right now without him noticing. Hilarious, truly. Definitely living my best spy life over here right now. 😉

I forgot for a moment that I hold the ultimate card in this world when it comes to magically becoming invisible on demand: I am a single, childfree woman over the age of 35. I might as well be wearing an invisibility cloak right now.

Mwa hahahaha!

This is such a weird power move for me. I know exactly what I’m doing by intentionally choosing to eavesdrop on this group of media professionals instead of directly introducing myself.

These are very interesting conversations to overhear. I can’t believe I didn’t tune in sooner. Damn this Russian! Look at him, distracting me from things that are actually important and relevant to my career. The worst.

Just kidding. It’s not interesting at all. They’re just talking about the World Cup. Snooze. Who even uses the word “soccer” on this side of the world?

And to think, I was going to stay at home alone and throw myself a pity party. Now I get to overhear a Hollywood conversation. Lucky me. When in doubt, wear the lucky red scarf. Works every time.

There you have it: it’s my sign from the Universe. Keep working hard and someday your dream will come true, even if the odds seem stacked against you.

Okay, I’m over this now. I’m going to eat some food and watch people for awhile. But I’m not going to act like I’m watching people. I’ve learned the hard way I have to be careful of sitting in observation of people in public like this in Hong Kong. It is what it is.

Have a good night!