TRIGGER WARNING: This post discusses sexual choking and other forms of violence in the bedroom.

Currently sitting at the gate waiting for my delayed flight. I was stewing in my anger through the first Chang, but now a rainbow has appeared right outside the window and it’s very pretty. I am now convinced rainbows are actually magic. I was literally so angry until I saw it, and then it was like… instant calm.

The second Chang is going down much better.

Shoutout to the oldass Indian man live-streaming this rainbow to his Facebook feed. I see you, fam. I see you and I don’t even care that you’re judging me right now for being a single, unmarried woman with the audacity to drink alone in public.

So here’s the fun thing about this airport in Bangkok: there are no bars. However, they do sell cans of beer at the pastry shops. So you can just get a beer and drink it out in the open literally anywhere in the terminal. Like, what? No.

They do have a “secret bar” spot that is hidden behind the pastry counter, but it’s full of Indian men. As we all know, me + Indian men = Spectacular Spectacular Bollywood disaster of epic proportions, so I guess it’s just me and this fabulous window view of the rainbow.

I am definitely getting the vibe that Thailand doesn’t want me to leave yet. It’s like, “No, stay, vibe, eat, drink, smoke, get laid, relax more. You are sooooo angry. Why would you go to a glorified landfill like Bali where the post- colonial exchange rate is Monopoly Money levels of hilarious when you can stay and spend that money here?”

Omg, I looked up the exchange rate today and it really is absurd. Wow, fuck the Dutch, for real. That documentary I watched the other day didn’t even touch on this issue. I was just sitting there for half of it watching in horror like, “Well, this definitely EXPLAINS the weirdness of the South Africans. Ugh.”

Just for reference, I have to take a two hour car ride to my shala tonight and it’s going to cost me 500,000 Indonesian Rupiahs. Five hundred thousand. Literally HALF A MILLION. HALF A FUCKING MILLI FOR ONE CAR RIDE!And you know what that half a milli amounts to in US dollars? Just a little less than $31 USD. That’s insane and disgusting. That’s not even real fucking money. That’s just gross.

Just for reference, I once had to take a Lyft from Billings, Montana to some random podunk town one hour away (long story) and it cost $100 USD. That was in 2018. Just saying.

Now I’m paying $31 to travel two hours from an airport to the middle of a rainforest on this random fucking island and like, what the fuck is money? Money isn’t even real to me anymore.

All of this is just gross. The fact that so many people are like, “Come to SEA and live for cheap and fuck all the girls you want” combined with these exchange rates is just… so gross. It’s all so fucking gross. Ugh. It’s just like Exploitation Central over here. From the people to the environment to the animals to everything. Ugh.

Ugh, fuck the Dutch. And the French. And the British. Definitely the British. And all the European colonial powers. What a bunch of fucking assholes. Seriously, sometimes I wake up and feel like I got a whole Bachelor’s Degree in White Male History 101 instead of Actual Fucking Real History. I know NOTHING about SEA. I was so obsessed with Africa and South America and the Middle East and I was sleeping on Asia the whole time.

Ugh.

Now I understand why the Peace Corps doesn’t assign you your preferred “area of expertise.” Like, oh, you think you know everything about the world? Let’s randomly drop you in Thailand instead. See how much you actually fucking know about the world. What’s that? You know nothing? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

I don’t know anything about the world. Every day I wake up and it’s like… the more I learn, the less I actually know. Somehow I’m getting dumber while I’m actually getting smarter. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.

So now I have some downtime before I have to deal with my next predicted problem (Indonesian Immigration). You know, assuming this plane doesn’t crash and I don’t die tonight.

Naturally, my mind has drifted to the two cats I saw in the dark during my Bangkok trip, neither of which looked like even one of the 50 whole shades of grey.

As I said, the Mexican-American guy was like a mystical panther hiding me on a sacred journey through the rainforest, while the British guy was like a wild, overly-aggressive lion charging at me right out of the bush.

I would say that between the two, the British Guy was definitely way more problematic. First of all, I was *wasted* when I picked him up. He followed a wasted girl who couldn’t stand up straight home just so he could fuck an American. That’s a problem!

That being said, I definitely 100% consented to most of our encounter. I definitely had a moment when we got into the cab like, “Oh, okay, I’m actually doing this right now. I am shitfaced AF and bringing this random stranger home with me just so I can say I fucked a British guy. Both of us are actually the problem here.”

The reason I saw he was overly-aggressive is because we got into bed and the first thing he did was get on top of me and say in the most passionate voice, “You want to be choked, don’t you? Yeah, I bet you just want to be choked out right now.”

No. Actually, I do not. I don’t know where this whole choking thing came from, but it’s not hot. You might as well ask me if I want to pretend I’m being murdered. Like, obviously not. I signed up for SEX, which is supposed to be about PLEASURE, not to box you in a fucking Muay Thai match.

And like, I don’t know where this came from, but somehow I just sat right up and said, “No. No, I do not. I don’t like that. Don’t put your hands on me like that.”

And then he didn’t. So he respected my right to consent, but honestly, who gets one minute into a makeout session and starts threatening to choke someone out?

What is this? Seriously. What the fuck is this?

Luckily, we got past that part. He did listen to me after that. I think he thinks he wants to tell a woman what to do, but really, he has no idea what he’s doing at all. This is why it took him 100 conquests to get one American. He doesn’t know what he wants.

Okay, so I definitely *tried* to let him be in charge after that, but all he did was like… collapse on top of me half heartedly and flop around like a fish that was just giving up on life. Like, “Well, I can’t violently attack you by the throat, and now I have no idea what to do, so I’m just gonna roll over and let you do whatever you want.”

This is why I call him a lion, right? Because he just went straight for the throat. And then when he didn’t have his lionesses there to help him take down the kill, he couldn’t do it and just… gave up.

Ugh.

Naturally, I dissociated for a moment because I was like, “Great, now I have to be the one in charge and I don’t even know what I like. I just know I don’t like this.”

And you know what he said to that? “You’re thinking about your Mexican guy right now, aren’t you?”

Like, wow, you’ve known me one whole hour and you’re already jealous of the random brown guy I fucked a month ago because deep down you already know he was better in bed. Like, are YOU thinking about the Mexican guy right now? Is this where all this weird “cuck” shit is coming from? You’ve been sexually repressing yourself for so many centuries that now all you can do is sit there and watch while the men who are actually in touch with their feelings make love to ladies the right way? Or would you rather just be with him yourself? Because I can just leave right now if that’s what you want. Or maybe I can be the one to watch? Maybe like make a sandwich? Or like… a fish and chip taco?

Bahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Sorry, I couldn’t resist there.

Then my next thought was, “This is why you like your little Asian girls, right? Because you think you can violently choke them out and they won’t say no to you or set boundaries or teach you acceptable behavior in the bedroom? They’ll just cook you dinner and rub your feet and make you think what you’re doing is okay because they want to trade in your British Pounds for Thai Baht on the Hong Kong Exchange.”

Right. I see this all very clearly now. Very clearly. So fucked up.

And then he ruined the moment even more by talking about Donald Trump, which made me want to choke him out. I’m not into that at all. I just fantasize about choking anyone who talks about him in an admirable way.

So clearly we had to find a way to move forward with the sex without bringing violence into the equation. This is not what I meant when I said I liked my sex to be political.

None of this was a problem with the American guy, btw. He was a fucking unicorn. Someone trained him up good. Shoutout to that woman, whoever she is. Thank you for teaching him how to give orgasms instead of bruises. That’s all I’m saying.

So what’s crazy is that I somehow remember all of this even though I was out daydrinking with some random Australian before that. He was not hot. He just wanted to be my dad because I don’t have one and his daughters don’t speak to him anymore. It’s strange what brings people together something.

Anyway, that being said, there is part of my night that is just gone, but the blackout ended once I ate a grilled cheese and met the British guy. That’s when I woke up. Meeting him is a little blurry, but I remember everything that happened from the time we left the bar to when he left my apartment the next day. 100%. For sure. And I know myself well enough to know that I fully, 100% consented to bringing home a hot British Guy to fuck. I’m on that Trophy Game for sure. That’s why I have a whole Island of Lost Guys.

So I guess what I’m trying to write here right now is a SATC-style column about what to do when a guy wants to choke you in the bedroom and you definitely don’t want him to?

What a mess.

Okay so fast forward, the best solution I found was to do something I knew he wouldn’t like so I could get him to say “No,” with the same intensity as I previously had. Of course, I did it in a sneaky way where I slowly pushed his boundaries to the point where he said, “No, I don’t like that. Get that shit away from me.”

So that worked. Then I finally got him to stop talking Trump long enough to find a nice middle ground where we could have hot sex without violence or politics involved. Honestly, it was too much work for me, but I did it. I decolonized that bedroom and made that British wanker my bitch.

*sings weakly* And I’m proud to be an American… where I least I know I’m free…

Somehow this happened. Magically. And by the time we did it the next morning, it was great. I would actually fuck him again, but only because I know he’s not going to try to choke me out.

Anyway, yeah, I’m just now processing all of this thanks to airport stress and multiple Changs and finally getting the fuck out of that cursed apartment where all I could think about was him after that night. On both counts.

So anyway, long story short, I feel really bad for his next “local girlfriend.” Maybe he already has one? Like, did he just wander home the next morning stinking of sex and slap her across the face and tell her to shut up when she asked questions? That’s horrible. What a terrible thought.

Yeah I was definitely caught up in the “Look at my Fancy British Trophy” bullshit all week, but now I’m actually sitting here feeling my feelings and thinking about what happened and I’m like… I’m not sure if any of this was actually okay?

Either way, it’s definitely a good thing that I’m not going to see this guy again. I guess it’s a good thing I have so much rage inside of me because he literally slapped me in the face without asking first or discussing it prior when we were fucking and then I just pushed him off me, got on top, and slapped him right back like a fucking psycho bitch! And he was into it! Like another fucking osycho bitch!

Like, what the fuck?

This isn’t who I am!!!!!!

These men out here are crazy. Sex should not be about violence. Sex should be about love and consent and mutual pleasure. Not… whatever the fuck that Big Game Trophy Hunting shit was.

Literally the catchphrase of this entire fucking trip: “Wow, what was that?”

I guess the lesson here is not to fuck random men you meet at the bar because you never know if they’re violent or not. If they are violent, make sure you can Muay Thai them right back? I guess?

I have no idea. I’m just having some thoughts now that I’m temporarily free of my troll.

I need to go check on my flight and see how the delay is progressing. If I have another hour, I’m getting another Chang.

Oh yeah, it’s definitely delayed again.

It’s gonna be a long night. Let’s see if I make my way into the depths of the Indonesian jungle by sunrise.