Tuesday. Afternoon. Sitting by the pool, allegedly “working” aka writing. Apparently this counts as work, which I’m fine with personally after not being taken seriously by anyone for well over a decade. Actually, yes, I am working. Please respect my space.

So last night was pretty crazy. I was once again approached by the pool while “working” by some random guy whose name I can’t even remember, to be honest. I could tell you his life story, where he’s from, what he does for work, and everything about his relationship with his ex-wife, but the name is definitely not locked into my memory bank. It is what it is. Please know that if I ever forget your name, it’s because I have to change it later anyway.

This guy approached me, we chatted, and he asked me if I wanted to go out with him for the night. I threw all of my caution to the wind and let this total and complete stranger take me to dinner and then to a nightclub. He promised me there would be a sunrise yacht party but that didn’t manifest. I was definitely hung up on the yacht thing by the end, but anyway. The guy was pretty cool. Definitely a one-and-doner for sure, but decent enough. We had a good conversation. He was a very good dancer, actually. I was impressed. And as it turns out, i was pleasantly surprised to discover that so am I. More on this in a moment.

I wore this very ridiculous, risky dress that shows Angelina Jolie levels of leg. Not my usual choice, but I figured this was probably the only occasion I could ever wear something like that and get away with it. I don’t know if it was the dress or the approximately 10,000 shots of tequila I took at the club, but I turned into a wild woman. I was out there dancing like a Video Vixen in a rap music video. It was crazy. I just fully let loose. I think I actually had fun for the first time in a really, really, really long time. Who is she? Lol.

Also, the great thing about the desert is that you sweat all the alcohol out practically instantly so guess who doesn’t have a hangover! Me!

The interesting part of the night was the undeniable presence of sex workers. That rumor was true. They really are everywhere. So much so that my hotel called the guy I was with when we stopped by his room to make sure that he wasn’t bringing “anyone from outside” (aka a sex worker) into the room. Meaning they didn’t recognize me, the woman who told everyone her crazy story about being dumped by my boyfriend, because this dress was so scandalous. Yeah.

Also, yes, they are actually watching all the time. That part is also true. Like to an extreme detail. But yeah, needless to say I took offense to that mistake. Not because I don’t support sex workers or whatever. We all know I have a micro-obsession with the lives and loves of sex workers. I could listen to them tell stories all day long, and I have. It’s just that there are problems that come with being perceived as such when you are not that, and I am not trying to be perceived that way. Especially now that I’m a teacher of children. Do you follow? Yes.

I learned how to figure out if a woman is a sex worker, which is the posing and posturing like they’re waiting around for someone. As opposed to me, who is sitting by the pool or at the lounge alone, busy on my iPad “working.” I was kinda confused because I was someone who would go out to bars alone at one point in time, so I asked him how does he know she’s not there by herself just watching people and writing? Very, very naive question, Betsey. It’s because women don’t do that here. Full stop. They just don’t. And now I understand why it’s a terrible idea to go out alone at night. I learned that lesson. That’s not a habit I plan to take into my new life.

Of course we shut down the club and the guy brought me back to the hotel and tried to fuck me. I said no and left. I’m either extremely traumatized or asexual. Probably both. I just know the idea of messing around with strange men I just met a few hours ago doesn’t do anything for me at all. Seems like a great way to catch an STD. Not for me.

So, no yacht party for me, but the nightclub we went to was pretty fun. And in the end, I had way more fun last night than I ever had with the guy I was just fake dating online for a year, so whatever. I don’t think he and I ever had a real conversation like that. Not even once. I felt more like an object he wanted to parade around as a status symbol. Very suffocating. Clearly the Trophy Wife thing isn’t for me either.

Look at all the things I’m learning about myself or the world now that I’ve finally left the compound. Woo! Good thing I learn fast. Also, I’m 36 and I’ve had so many ridiculous, absurd experiences with men that it just happens naturally now.

Brb. I need a smoothie break. This trip is a lot more than I bargained for, that’s for damn sure. Look at me out here writing my own version of The White Lotus. Aww… my dad would maybe be proud, but also he would just be shaking his head in disbelief like, “Ohhhh Betsey… you are a woman now, and I just can’t see you as anything but the child I used to follow around the zoo. I’m sorry.”

It’s okay, Dad. I understand now why you kept me locked up on the compound for so long. You were afraid for me and wanted to protect me from the big, bad, scary world. I forgive you.

Just kidding. Apparently the smoothie stand guy and I had the same idea at the same time. He just went on break, so I gotta wait.

Well, I’ll just tell you about my afternoon today. I just went down to the beach and did my full yoga routine in the hot afternoon sun and just sweat it all out. I haven’t done a full yoga routine since I stopped teaching a month ago, so it was nice to go all out without having to give any instruction. My intention was, “I am free.”

At the end, I got up from Savasana and ran straight into the water to cool off. Of course, the sea was boiling hot, so not quite the relief I was looking for. Still, it was a moment of pure freedom and joy for me to just take off running into the sea like that and dive in, still fully clothed. Thank god for athletic fabrics that dry quickly in the sun, lol.

I am free.

Free and on my way to the smoothie stand. Yassss. Yalla or whatever. I don’t know what that means. I think it’s just a catch all phrase you can insert into any situation. So, like, totally Yalla, you guys. Hahaha.

I feel so much better about everything in life now.

Still somehow keep forgetting I’m moving to Hong Kong. Oy vey. I need to fix my flight stuff and actually get there first. I should probably read the work emails I’m getting. I should… you know… actually work, haha. As much as I’m enjoying my little desert oasis paradise, I do have a real life I am on my way to starting. So, yeah. Still, nice to finally have a break and enjoy myself for once. I don’t have to take care of anyone or anything except myself right now and it feels good to know that.

I am free.

Thank you to the random Jordanian man whose name I forgot for teaching me how to be a Free Woman. You represent your country well. Always been a big fan of Jordan, personally. Love the Queen and King. Queen Rania is my personal style icon. So chic and classy. Low-key obsessed with every outfit she wears.

Alright, can’t wait to see what’s on the menu tonight. Between you and me, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be pizza. Well, I guess it’s zaatar pinza with dips. Give me all the dips. Love the dips. I’m obsessed with the dips. Living my best dip life over here.

Today was a good day. I like Dubai. I could definitely write a better show about this place than Dubai Bling or Real Housewives. Dubai Bling is honestly so triggering and exhausting to watch. They are always fighting. Always. Every dinner they all show up in black tie and just start screaming at each other about nothing. It’s like… oh my god… if I wanted this experience I would just go back home to my own family. Give me something more substantial to watch, please.

Alright. I’m done with this stream of consciousness for the day. I need to put some of my stories back up on my website. I’m ready to be the Writer Extraordinaire again. I’m not gonna hide anymore because I don’t want to deal with stupid townies who constantly cause drama for their own entertainment. They are all gone now. That life is behind me. That place is far away. Andrew and his goonies can’t hurt me anymore. It’s time to come out from my own metaphorical blue prison and be myself again.

No more hiding. I am the Writer Extraordinaire. It is my destiny!