Tag: Hot Beef Stew

BLOG: Irish Dancing in the Rain

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Monday.

Here I am at ye olde Irish pub.

And may I just say… HELLLOOOOO sexy beefcake! Who is this hottie with a body who just walked in and sat right across the bar from me? I can hear a faint accent. Is it an Irish accent? Gurl ‘cause if it is… sign me up to climb that hill today.

Anyway, insert something about rewarding myself for my job interview today with a bowl of hot beef stew and mashed potatoes with extra, extra butter?

Ummmm I think this lad over here might be the comforting side dish I’m looking for today.

I don’t see a wedding ring! HAHA but as we all learned from the last Irish lad… that doesn’t mean anything at all.

Hmmm he might not be Irish. He said “great” instead of “grand.” Now it’s officially up in the air. Anyway, I need to stop looking at him and drink my Guinness.

He reminds me of someone… I think it’s…. Nick Jonas? Right? Is that the one who is married to Priyanka Chopra? Or is that Joe? Or was he the one married to the chick from Game of Thrones? I still haven’t seen that show to this day and have no plans to ever watch it. Anyway, I don’t actually know the difference between the Jonas Brothers. I’m too old for that shit. He looks like at least one of them. Maybe. I think.

Anyway, a little thirsty there, Bets? Maybe you should have split your G before you looked up from your iPad. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not looking at you. He’s looking at his phone with that weird little twisted smirk I recognize so well. I already know exactly what that means.

Thank you, next.

ANYWAY WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT?!

I have no idea. Where am I? Why did I come here?

I don’t remember who I am anymore.

Okay.

I have now eaten my potatoes and stew. I have had half of a pint of Guinness. I’m chillin’ in the Irish Pub listening to Irish Music. I’m grand. My spirit is officially recharged. Sometimes I feel myself running on empty and then I come here for a meal and it’s like I’ve magically sorted myself out again. Love that for me. Nothing like a bit of Irish magic to set me right when I need it the most.

Anyway, so I had a job interview today, which is what I actually came here to say. It was okay. I think teaching adults might be a better fit but I don’t know about this company. They said they’re undergoing “restructuring,” whatever that means. The online reviews aren’t great. I wonder if that has anything to do with the “restructuring?” Probably.

My interviewer was American, which was great because bonus points for me, duh! Do you know how hard it is to find other Americans in Hong Kong? It’s a challenge! So that already puts me slightly ahead of the competition. Plus he had some similar experiences so he could vibe.

The office itself was definitely giving “bro” vibes. I looked around that room and it was all bros. I could feel it before I looked because I walked in and everyone stopped and stared at me. I could feel the male gaze upon me. Then I looked up and around and sure enough… it was mostly bros.

So, yeah, obviously I don’t know about that one. I’m not exactly enthusiastic about working with mostly men. I feel like it could be… distracting? Problematic? Better to avoid altogether?

I don’t know. I’m not in a position to be picky, so let’s just see how my follow-up interview for the other place goes on Wednesday. Then I gotta make my visa run to Macau this weekend. So much to do, so little time.

Let’s just say I’ve definitely learned the importance of shopping around today, lol. I’m still freaking out, of course, but I have nothing left to lose at this point, so I just have to keep pushing through, whatever that means…

How am I feeling right now? Mostly like I just want to go home and get in bed and wrap myself up in a blanket and watch Netflix while the thunderstorms rage on outside. Instead I decided to hope the MTR over to the Kowloon side in the middle of a major thunderstorm warning and live dangerously.

I’ll be sure to take the Star Ferry back just so I can get the whole “Irish Ancestors leaving behind their barren, empty, famine-ridden homeland and crossing the stormy seas to find their way in a brave new world” vibe. Really makes the meal worth it, to be honest. You really need to suffer through the rainy slurry on a rickety old boat…

Just kidding. There’s no ferry service in this weather. I just gotta hop the MTR and be done with it.

Well… best get to it before the weather gets even worse.

Have a nice day!

BLOG: The Darjeeling Limited

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Fri-yay!

I am currently hungover AF, which is a shame because I had big plans for today. In addition to the two interviews and dozens of rejections, I had three follow-ups that I definitely planned to follow up on today. Naturally, I self-sabotaged by getting way too drunk while I was at home alone.

Welcome to my life. And here I wonder why no one will ever love me, haha. Hey Betsey, here’s a brilliant idea: why don’t you stop looking at men and look at yourself for a change? Learn to love you and the mess that you are instead of waiting for some hot beefcake to rescue you from your bullshit.

Wow, brilliant, so many lessons learned today. I feel so enlightened now!

Yes, yes, yes, learn to love yourself, blah blah blah, become a strong, empowered woman, and all that jazz!

That being said, I would still very much like to end my days by falling into the arms of a hot, sexy beefcake (preferably with an even sexier accent) who just rescued me from a cockroach. That’s the real dream right there.

Listen, Ewan McGregor divorced his wife, married a woman 20 years younger, got her a job playing a Twi’lek in a Star War. It could still happen for me. I could be Wife #3, you know what I’m saying? There’s still time for me to see what’s really underneath the kilt, ya know what I’m saying?

Lol

Hahaha

Yeah I’m definitely still “off my tits” as they say in… Ireland? Scotland? England? Wales? The UK? I don’t even know anymore. They’re all so different. Is this a colonizer phrase? Who even knows anymore?

Breaking News from the Thai-US Embassy: Your passport will be revoked if you’re not making your child support payments on time.

I love this for all Thai women everywhere. Now let’s do the Philippeans! Stop letting these gross Passport Bros get away with shit! If I’m not allowed to go back to Thailand because I pissed off the local branch of the Irish Mafia, then they definitely shouldn’t be allowed back.

I’m totally kidding, of course. I’m not banned from Thailand. They’re would never ban me. All I do there is spend ridiculous amounts of money, and I don’t even talk to Bar Girls! I just blow it all on staying in a ridiculously overpriced loft with a bad pool just so I can be 5ft from the bar I’m obsessed with and all of the beautiful, wonderful, amazing people who frequent it. Love that for me!

Anyway, so that’s why I had to come back to Hong Kong. Now I blow all my money on a tiny little shoebox apartment where I somehow magically lose things like hair clips and my phone, which makes absolutely no sense. It must be the faeries. When in doubt, always blame the faeries, or the “little people,” as we say in South Dakota. Well, I don’t know if that’s what “they” say, but it’s definitely what Mad Dog used to say!

So yeah, I was definitely supposed to do real, actual, productive things today. Not sure that’s going to happen, which is unfortunate because I have things I really need to get done.

Instead I am sitting here at my favourite brunch place, right on the patio, in the heat, away from the air on like a crazy person, sweating it all out as I watch the world pass me by. I love it.

So many hot beefcakes walking by on their way to and from the gym on their lunch break. I love it. Obsessed with the beefcakes. Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight! Won’t somebody take the shadows away!

Everyone here thinks I’m so crazy for sitting in the heat instead of the aircon. Like, I get it, the weather is insane, but I really need to sweat it out. I keep telling them I used to live in a very, very, very cold place and now all I want to do is be out in the sun and sweat all my shitty feelings out. They don’t understand me. It is what it is.

Here is my real question: how do I get paid to sit in a restaurant and just watch people on the street? This is the only job I know how to do. Everything else is just, like, so stressful, you guys.

I literally do not know how people exist in the full-time corporate job world. They are all so fucking weird. They have no personal lives, no hobbies, no personalities, nothing. They just work, work, work, and then maybe go to the gym, and then they wonder why they’re all so unhappy, and then they make the rest of us feel bad about not being obsessed with work like that are.

Like, listen, I get it. I hate my family too. Honestly, the majority of them are terrible, narcissistic people who treat other people like shit and literally cannot handle being talked to in the same way. All I’ve ever wanted to do is get the fuck away from them. But I don’t throw myself into a job just to escape from that. That’s how you end up dying in a pile of your own shit, just like my dad. It is what it is.

I still remember the last thing my dad said to me before we all went to bed and I found him almost dead the next day. His last words to me were: “Can you pick me up a chocolate mocha frappachino?”

And then we found him half-dead in bed the next morning and then he was in a coma for two weeks and I had to be the one who called in the medicine man to read him his last rights because my stupid, evil mother was too drunk to literally do anything except be mean to me, and then I had to watch him die in the hospital bed right in front of me.

And then literally everyone in that stupid fucking shithole town was a giant fucking asshole about it, because that’s who they are and that’s what they do. Thanks again for ruining my life, Dad! So grateful for everything??????

Lol, yeah, whatever, at least I get to live in Asia now. Just like I always dreamed. Literally. My life only got better because my dad died. How fucking fucked up and shitty is that? It is what it is.

And this is why I have no idea how to have fun.

This is why men are a problem. They think it’s MY job to provide “fun” for them and then they get mad when they have to do actual emotional labor in the middle of the fucking blackout they put me in by plying me with booze nonstop.

So fucking stupid. Clean up your own mess, bro. I can’t do that for you. I will never do that for you. I am not your fucking mommy, okay? I’m not picking up your dirty underwear off the floor or doing your laundry or cleaning your house or cooking you food. Your job is to stand there looking sexy while fanning me with a giant palm leaf, then carry me away on my solid gold throne. Okay? Okay.

This is why I’m not married. My spirit did not reincarnate multiple times just to serve some stupid fucking man who won’t even wash his own dirty asshole. Fuck you and your fucking patriarchy. I am the motherfucking Queen!

“You don’t have to love me. You don’t even have to like me. But you will respect me. Why? Because I’m a Boss!” -Kelis

SO I had some things to do today. Instead I’m sitting here on the patio writing crazy, unhinged things and having notions. This is exactly why my Irish ancestors got on that fucking boat and came to America. Their dream was for the 7th generation ahead of them to sit on a patio and write and make art and look fabulous while doing fucking NOTHING! No work down by the docks or in the factories or on the farm. No having 18 children, half of which died somewhere along the way. No nothing. I don’t have to do shit now, just like my ancestors dreamed. Yet somehow, I still feel so unfulfilled…

I have definitely sat in the heat for too long. It’s starting to make me sick. I need to go inside and sit by the aircon.

Okay, okay, okay, done done done.

Now inside. The sound of the construction on the Temple is very loud. I like this spot because it’s close to the historic Man Mo Temple. Man Mo is the god of “literature.” I always stop at the gates on my way home to say a prayer. I love the “Under Construction” vibe right now. It makes me feel better about myself. Like, yes, we have stood the test of time and survived, for better or for worse. That being said, sometimes we need to take some time to fix ourselves up for the sake of future preservation. It is what it is. I love it. I’m so here for it.

I should get a job as a bar cat. Like the meme. I don’t work. I don’t care. I just sit in the wrong spot and somehow run the entire place. Like Andrew did at Bloody Mary’s. Is my dream to actually be Andrew? Is that why I was so obsessed with him for like, what, ten years? Who even knows anymore!

That’s the second time this week I’ve thought about Andrew. I haven’t thought about Andrew in a long time. I mean, how could I? Between the Hot Beef Stew and The Russian, my heart, mind, and va-jay-jay has been extremely occupied. There’s very little space for a fictional character these days. I just meet so many attractive men. Sometimes I still look at Andrew’s old pictures and think to myself, “Wow, I really thought this guy was hot.” Goes to show how slim the pickins really are out there on the lone prairie. His catchphrase should be, “Yikes on Bikes!”

I will always remember this chapter as that time I was so desperate to get railed by a hot sexy beefcake that I wrote two whole books about the bartender I thought was really hot from far away, but only in a dark room.

Just kidding. I just thought of him now sitting in the doorway with his mountain man beard, looking mean and old and cranky AF, wearing some ancient fucking t-shirt from some concert he went to in the 90’s, taking off his baseball cap and wiping his forehead in exhaustion, as if he had actually done something productive today. Like maybe he mowed the lawn without the t-shirt and hat on, and then walk down to fetch the mail while I was riding by on my white horse, and that’s why he’s tired, or something? IDK!

Sorry, wow, wait, did it just get hotter in here? Because I’m literally sitting under the aircon right now and I just started sweating again.

I mean… he might not be the Pabst Blue Ribbon winner of the Magic Mike Live contest, but something about that really did it for me. I mean, you don’t see me sitting here writing two novels about The Russian. It is what it is.

I know I love him because I have lived my whole life being screamed at and called crazy, and he’s the only person who ever did that in a way that actually turned me on. I was so into it. I was like, “Please, yell at me more. I don’t know why I like this but I do.”

I don’t like it coming from anyone else, but when you do it, it’s like… somehow the hottest thing ever? No one knows.

Awww, my Andrew. I loved my Andrew. I really did. At least, I thought I did. Let’s be real here. I have never been in an actual, meaningful long-term relationship. I just stare at hot guys from far away and fantasize about what it would be like to have them fan me with a giant palm leaf. I don’t know jack shit about love.

But if you asked me if I’ve ever been in love with anyone… I would tell you it was Andrew, every single time. I loved him. I really did. I don’t know what real love is… but… whatever I felt was pretty close to that. I hope he’s happy now, wherever he is. Maybe Seattle? Who even knows these days? I don’t know. I don’t look for him or check in on him or ask about him. I don’t have to. He just visits me in my dreams…

*sigh*

Anyways, yes, what the fuck was I talking about again? My dad dying? The fact that I moved to the other side of the planet just to be this fucked up all the time? Maybe something about paying child support so your passport doesn’t get revoked? Who even knows anymore!

I really need to eat something. All I had for a dinner was a plastic cup full of olives and feta cheese to go with the two bottles of wine I drank after eating nothing all day.

I think sometimes I act this way because I just want to die and I lack the courage to just jump off the rooftop when the void calls to me. So I just kill myself slowly with alcohol and cigarettes and men instead. It is what it is.

Anyway, I can’t kill myself. I’ve already tried multiple times. It never works. Someone up there wants me to live, to survive, to give something back to this world. I don’t understand. If I’m still alive after all of this, I must have some kind of purpose. I just don’t know what that purpose is. I just know when I look at worksheets about teaching grammar to children, I feel absolutely nothing at all. It means nothing to me. I’m just here for the job, the visa, the paycheck. I can’t make a difference in this world. I’m just a woman, standing here in front of a white board, asking for a steady paycheck without the cost of being bullied at work.

It is what it is.

I really need to eat something. I haven’t eaten anything substantial in like… at least two days. At least.

It is what is.

I like that scene in the Darjeeling Limited at the end when they all leave their baggage behind and board the train, waving it all goodbye. That’s the vibe right now. I just want to leave my impossibly heavy suitcases behind and hop that train to the next shitty little village in India, and do yoga with a giant snake, and just have fun and live life and have a good time.

I wish I was fun. I just want to have fun. Someone, please, teach me how to have fun. I just want to have some fun!

Okay, I’m done now. I really do need to eat something or I will actually pass out in this “brunch concept” of a restaurant right now.

The End!

BLOG: Confidence Boost

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Wednesday night.

At the Greek place. It’s pretty poppin’ tonight. The owner here recognizes me now that I have been here four times, including once with a friend. Also, I’m a beautiful lady. I can tell this man appreciates beautiful ladies. I’ve also heard his very personal yacht rock closing playlist, so yeah.

Usually when I am here, it’s empty or dead. Not so tonight. Happy to see it! The food here is really good.

How did my job interview go? I’m pretty optimistic. I did a lot of prep for it. I guess I was sort of put-off because I’m used to dealing with the “friendly fake Midwest nice” of South Dakota, not the directness of Hong Kongers. I found it quite refreshing, actually. Hong Kongers are very straight-to-the-point. It’s one of my favourite things about being here.

The first thing they did was give me a writing test. It was just a simple prompt with a 20-minute timer. Easy. What was the prompt? “Write about a time you faced a challenge and how you overcame it.” Easy! Moving to Hong Kong, obviously. I said that I took a huge gamble and risked everything to move here (true) to live my dream. This year has thrown a lot of crazy challenges my way, but the most difficult was loneliness (also true). I talked about pushing myself out of my comfort zone to go out and meet people and how it’s made a real difference in my time here. There’s no way I would have made it this far if not for the expat communities here in Hong Kong and back in Bangkok. These people literally saved my life.

I thought it was pretty good. I mean, it’s the truth. I’ve been out here for almost a year now and here I am, still swimming with the sharks, even though I thought I was going to drown multiple times. That’s badass and I should be proud, especially considering the fact that Hong Kong is a notoriously difficult place to survive without a job.

Onto the actual interview. We didn’t waste much time on my old job, thankfully. I talked about my writing projects, my travels, and my previous experience teaching. They asked me how I like living in Hong Kong. I mean, what’s not to love, right? I definitely hyped up my neighborhood since the office is so close by.

I also asked them about the company culture and highlighted it’s important to me to work with a diverse, international team. The company is very diverse. Some Americans, like I said. A good mix of other nationalities, all generally friendly towards Americans. I instantly felt better when she was describing the job and the company.

Overall, I think it went well. I hope it went well. They said they would let me know soon. My friend thinks I should keep playing the field and continue sending out applications just in case. I think she is right. Of course she is right. She has lived in Hong Kong way longer than I have. She knows how to play the job market.

I am actually weirdly motivated for the first time in many moons to be productive in this manner. Plus, I’m on a short deadline in terms of my visa, so it can’t hurt. I’m so ready to go back to work. I need structure and a paycheck and something to do besides sit around my apartment navel-gazing all day.

Seriously, though, if I spend any more time thinking about The Russian, my head will explode. How many times can we beat this dead horse until it finally dies? Ugh! It’s no different than it was with the Hot Beef Stew. The only real difference here is that the Hot Beef Stew sustained me through five months of wintertime starvation. Talk about Ye Olde Irish Magic! I love it!

Well, it could be worse. I could be the blonde woman sitting behind me stuck at dinner with some old Indian businessman. They’re definitely in a transactional relationship right now, if you know what I’m saying. Needless to say, he is taking the opportunity to explain life, the universe, and everything to this young fawn he’s taken under his wing. Snoozefest!

How do I know it’s transactional? Because he’s tracking the time on his phone. Now he’s buttering her up for a better career track by saying things like, “Look at you! You’re so great with people!” Yeah, I’m sure she is, lol.

Oh lord. I’ve seen things in Hong Kong I can never unsee. Some days it’s like… this isn’t even real. This is a movie, lol.

We gotta get this chick’s number and give it to The Russian next time he’s in town. She’s clearly a professional, and therefore perfect for him. She takes money for her time/services and he wants to spend his limited free time using those services. I should do him a solid and set him up with someone he can rely on for the services he needs. Then he won’t have to worry about making dumb promises involving giant bathtubs and room service to bored, cynical writers who will hold him accountable to his every word. He can just hand her a wad of cash and she’ll leave, no questions asked. And they all lived happily ever after. The End!

Maybe once I start working again, I won’t have time to think about him anymore. I am definitely ready to go full Hong Kong workaholic mode! Anything to forget about The Island of Lost Guys, lol.

Ugh, I am definitely ready to go home now. No late night for me tonight. I’m in the mood to stay at home and behave myself. Avoid men, and by extension trouble. Catch up on some sleep. Watch a movie on Netflix. Behave myself, like I said. Be a real, serious professional who is worthy of a new job and a visa extension. I can totally do this!

And if I can’t do this, I can always fail my way back into Thailand, lol.

But I can totally do this. I am such a Hong Konger! I showed up to the interview wearing a discount dress I bought from the boutique around the corner from the office and carrying an umbrella just in case. I am confident AF! Plus I had a notebook and my own pen. I nailed it! Confidence level boosted. Now it’s time to hunker down and hustle.

Off now. Time to go home and get some rest. Wake up tomorrow, finish my To Do List for the week, and re-approach my job hunt with newfound confidence. I can do this. Totally!

BLOG: See the SEA

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Thursday. Where does the time go? I do not know.

I am early to the coffee shop today. Early meaning 10:15am. Normally I come around lunchtime because the streets are busier and much more fun to watch. Today I came early just because I woke up at sunrise, a rarity for me here in Hong Kong.

I am doing a little bit better today. I went out for pizza on the patio last night, which I have not done in over a month. I’ve been going out to different places and trying new things in an effort to cease my reliance on my Western comforts. That being said, one can only eat rice and noodles for so long before they need a slice of pizza with hot sauce and a cup of ranch on the side.

In the case of Thailand, this particular craving manifests as a grilled cheese sandwich with a side of coleslaw and ketchup. I would never, ever eat such a thing in the US. But in Bangkok? Hell yes, give me that shit, I haven’t seen a single tomato in weeks.

I also did a really intense 3-hour Tibetan Buddhist meditation session last night. The drilling on the street was going until pretty late, so I put on my headphones and some chanting and vibed. I had a vision I was doing yoga in Rishikesh. I had a notebook with me full of bucket list items that I was checking off. A nice little reminder that I am, in fact, living my life to the fullest. It’s okay to give myself some space for rest.

Overall, I feel good about my decision to stay in SEA, for now. There is so much more to see and do! Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Taiwan, Singapore, Japan, Korea, Mainland China, the Phillippeans, and, of course, everywhere in Thailand outside of Bangkok. I can go back West to study another time.

Everyone says the first year abroad is the hardest. I would agree with this. It’s been a lot of ups and downs. I’ve seen a mix of beautiful things and things no human being should ever see. It’s been an adventure I wouldn’t trade for the world. Resubscribe me for another year!

Now, if only my job applications would stop disappearing into the void. I need to find work, ASAP.

Anything to distract me from the intrusive thoughts I am having about The Russian. Ugh. Men. So annoying. I thought if I dated guys who just got on a plane and left, it would be much easier to cut the cord. However, this guy has proven it is not so easy, which sucks because I’m pretty sure he’s never coming back! So sad.

Why did I allow myself to be swept off my feet by his overwhelming charm? Probably because it had been five months since the Hot Beef Stew. I was ready to get him out of my system and fantasize about someone else! LOL! Well, I definitely got what I asked for. I am merely sitting in observation of my feelings now. I allow them to exist, but I take no action regarding them. There is no action to take. He is gone. The story is over. The End!

Anyway. Forget him. Let us focus on what is necessary and important: job hunting. Forever and always!

We need to step it up. Do the Hong Kong Hustle, as they say.

I have no idea how I live here some days. You’d think with my current energy levels, I’d be much happier rotting on a beach somewhere in Thailand or Vietnam. However, being here in Hong Kong and soaking up the professional vibes is good for me. It’s motivating. It’s inspiring. It pushes me to be something better than I am. That’s what I need right now in my life. I want to move up to the next level.

Just push me up the escalator to that next level. One more staircase, one more hill, just keep climbing and climbing and climbing until I reach the top…

BLOG: Craic Dat Whip

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Saturday.

It’s Hong Kong Sevens weekend, which is one of the biggest rugby events in the world. I am not there because I am super lame and don’t have the right connections. Maybe I will be going out to people-watch with a friend later. We will see how it goes.

It’s okay. It’s just a lot of expats getting drunk and rowdy. I am… definitely not in the mood to deal with that energy right now. Instead, I am sitting in a random cafe somewhere in Central, stressing out over my finances and my life.

The situation is pretty stressful at the moment. Staying in Hong Kong is a huge risk. Going to Ireland is an even bigger risk. Going back to the States is not currently possible. Returning to Bangkok feels like a step backwards.

How do I make this work?

No idea. All I know is that first rule of finance is to just take the bull by the horns. Take control of the situation before it takes control of you. This much I have learned from living in Hong Kong. So here I am, taking control of the situation. I am not a victim. I am a strong, independent, financially responsible woman with options. I can find a way out of this mess.

If only The Russian had given stock tips during our pillow talk instead of lecturing me about my ovaries. My situation might look different right now. Okay, lesson learned, Betsey. Next time you bang a Finance Bro, shake them down for information before they get on a plane back to Switzerland and ghost you forever.

Fuck smarter, not harder.

Okay.

Let me try to reason my way through this.

Obviously, Ireland is the most desirable location due to family history and the massive potential to write a beautiful story about self-discovery, finding family, and falling in love. I can see this Netflix movie/show in my head. The creative potential is unmatched. I have to go to Ireland. I just have to!

However, the current financial situation there is not quite so desirable. Yes, I was accepted into a short- term program in Galway that could potentially lead to something longer-term. However, the price of tuition & fees, room & board, and general cost of living for 6 weeks alone would actually destroy me financially and leave me with nothing.

The only way I would be able to *maybe* survive it is by getting a long-term student visa, getting a loan for school, and finding a job at a random cafe/pub. Then I would still be in debt, but it would be student loan debt instead of credit card debt.

It feels like there is a better way to accomplish what I want to accomplish by going to Ireland that doesn’t require me to completely nuke my bank account.

For roughly the same amount as this summer program in Galway, I could pay off all of my current debt and float myself through a few more months in SEA while I continue my job hunt. It’s still a risk, but it’s a known entity at this point.

Ireland is very much an unknown entity. The housing crisis, the fuel crisis, the general economic situation, the visa process, everything. SEA is known in terms of cost potential, budget, cultural differences, etc.

Assuming I finally find a job here, I can apply for graduate school next year, after taking the time to do some real research and put together a quality application. The potential for finding scholarships and better financial solutions is higher if I delay school for another year.

Truthfully speaking, I am not hustling hard enough in regards to finding work. I am living my life on permanent vacation mode. It’s time to put an end to this. It cannot go on like this forever.

Either way, the job market is fucked. The world is fucked. Everything is fucked. I know that I want to go back to school. I know that. But I also know that I don’t want to completely fuck myself over financially by doing so. There is a better way.

Think smarter, not harder.

As I’ve said many times over the course of the last year, be careful who you mix your energies with. Well, now I’ve absorbed the powers of a very organized and highly controlled Finance Bro. My bad financial habits don’t stand a chance now! We are going to crack that whip and dominate this situation today!

Hahahaha.

Hahahahahahahaha!

That’s too funny.

He may not be the character we wanted to create, but he is the character we needed to create.

Oh, I’m loving this. I’ve got my GAA coach character to motivate me to get out of bed and my financial advisor character to motivate me to fix my mess of a bank account and lack of a real career. And here I thought men were so useless. Turns out it was always South Dakota that was the problem, not me.

Mad Dog was right all along. He always said that a single lady should always have a man to fix the plumbing, one to fix the roof, and one to chop the wood. Such wisdom my adopted Grandfather had…

That reminds me. I started watching the Netflix show “Sitting Bull” yesterday. It’s a two-part documentary about Sitting Bull and the history of the Lakota people. It’s been awhile since I listened to spoken Lakota. It’s strange how familiar it all sounded to me. I know the story so well, but hearing it again for the hundredth time brought me some comfort I’ve been missing.

I remembered it all. Working in the Oral History Center, researching Wounded Knee, going to The Rez, spending time with the Natives, going to ceremony, and following around Mad Dog. All of that was the highlight of my time in South Dakota. It made the entire experience worth it for me. Nothing, absolutely nothing in this world can EVER come close to the value of that experience. It’s very important that I continue to remember and acknowledge it wherever I go in this life.

I hope someday I can finally get into a headspace where I’m healthy enough to have a more positive attitude about my time living in SD. Right now all I can remember is the dark times…

Time to take some space from this issue for the rest of the day. I must let this stew marinate a little more before serving it up…

BLOG: Climbing The Peak, Round 3

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Friday. Where has April gone? It’s going by so fast. I can’t believe it’s halfway over already.

Yesterday I woke up and decided to take back control of my life. I did the only thing I could think of: packed up my yoga mat and a notebook in my backpack, picked up 2 liters of water from 7-11, and headed straight for The Peak.

As previously stated, I love to use the metaphor of working my way to top as my meditation when I climb The Peak. The first time I took the tram up to the halfway point, walked halfway downhill, turned around and walked back uphill, then around the mid-point, then up to the top. Took the entire day.

The second time, I was stewing too much over everything, so I started at the very bottom of the hill (my apartment) and worked my way through the Mid-Levels all the way to the highest point of The Peak. As per usual, I got lost, somehow, which added an extra hour to my time.

I was desperate, so I enlisted the help of the character version of the Hot Beef Stew to coach me all the way to the top. There was a lot of complaining on my end. I was very much out-of-shape. I needed to be bribed the entire way with an imaginary Five Guys bag. I kept stopping to write the story about him. It took forever! But I got my Five Guys in the end, so it was worth it.

Yesterday, I did not enlist the help of my imaginary GAA coach to assist me in my mission of walking up this very big hill. Instead, I used the time to alternate between trying to sweat The Russian out of my system and reflecting on my time in SEA.

Where have I been? Where am I now? Where will I be in the future?

It was a very good day. I didn’t got lost. I got my walk time down, even on the second section of the walk, aka Old Peak Road. Old Peak Road is a bitch! It’s soooooo steep. There are times when it’s actually easier to turn around and walk backwards up the hill. I have to stop every 5 minutes on that section. That section alone tests my grit and determination in ways I didn’t know could be tested. I can’t even tell you how cathartic it is to finally reach the mid-point.

The mid-point trail is easy; you’re basically just cruising around in a circle on flat ground, enjoying the view. The climb to the top is much, much easier because it’s less steep and there are different scenic trails you can take. But Old Peak Road? No. Fuck Old Peak Road. Old Peak Road SUCKS! That’s why it feels so good when I get to the top of it.

There is a beautiful little park up at the top of the Peak filled with birds and butterflies and flowers and plants. There are little pagodas everywhere to sit in. It’s the perfect place to have an outdoor wedding. For my purposes, I turned one of the little pagodas into a yoga shala and went full yogi meditation mode. It was so quiet, so peaceful. Exactly what I needed yesterday. Lots of sweat, lots of meditation.

Forget this guy! Onto the next one, onto the next one!

Well, it’s not that easy. I am so tired of dating. I’m tired of the constant revolving door of men. I just want to be with one person for awhile. Very hard to find these days! Everyone is in constant swipe-right mode. One little imperfection and it’s onto the next one! It’s almost as hard to be optimistic about finding a relationship as it is to be optimistic about finding a job in this hilariously bad job market.

I am trying, though. That is why I went to The Peak. I took time to appreciate the views of the city. I took time to express gratitude to the universe for bringing me to Hong Kong. I reflected on all of the good things, the bad things, the messy things. I thought about the fact that I am generally much happier here than I ever was in South Dakota, even on the days when I don’t feel the best.

I cleared it all out, sent it all away on a cloud, and focused in on the specific vision of my life I want to manifest. It comes in bits and pieces. Right now I am focused on the most important piece, which is stability. Oh, god, do I crave stability. No more packing up to move every few months. No more revolving door of men. No more job hopping. I just want to go back to school and write, write, write, and find a partner who will actually stick around and support my various creative endeavors. And then in return he gets lots of hot sex and a beautifully decorated apartment to come home to every night. They say this is what they want, and yet…

Obviously, I have no control over that aspect. I do have control over the school thing though, so I just need to find a way to go back to school and acquire the financial aid I need to pay for it. It’s not impossible. People do it all the time. I can definitely make this happen.

In the meantime, I am focused on being grateful that I no longer live in South Dakota. No one makes fun of my outfits (because here the way I dress is considered “normal”). I can go to a coffee shop or bar and be welcomed in by the friendly staff and owners who know me personally. I get to go out on dates with sexy, attractive men who dress nice and smell good. There is no small town drama, no cruelty, no bullying, no gossip, no fake nice two-faced bullshit, no targeted smear campaign created for the sole purpose of protecting rapists and predators. Everyone is busy with their own lives and it shows.

I especially look forward to the idea of going to a university where people don’t talk shit about me behind my back because I actually raised my hand to answer the professor’s questions instead of sitting there blankly staring at the wall. I dream of a place where I can make friends and join clubs and participate in activities without being shunned for being different. A place where I can meet people from all over the world and take the classes I want to take and learn the things I want to learn and no one will be there to sabotage any of it.

Very idealistic and optimistic, I know. But I think it’s possible. True, there are a lot of assholes in the world. There are definitely assholes here in Hong Kong. I’ve seen them. I’ve met them. I left my job because I had no tolerance for the racism, bullying, and generally toxic attitudes and behaviors of the South Africans. I refuse to go back to The Wolf or The Sketchy Place because of the assholes I met there.

The world is not a perfect place. Hong Kong is not a perfect place. It has its negatives for sure, but the negatives are still better than the negatives of living in a small town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, South Dakota, where everyone acts like they’re in a cult and outsiders of all kinds are considered “bad.” Sometimes I look back on it all and think to myself, “I can’t believe I tolerated that much bad treatment for so long.”

At the end of my date with The Russian, he decided to lecture me about three things. I hate being lectured, by the way, especially by strangers, and especially by men. So you can imagine that being lectured by someone in the middle of some weird roleplay game I didn’t exactly understand was really fucking annoying, and honestly broke me out of the entire scenario. I was like, “Fuck this shit.” I didn’t want to listen to anything he was saying at all. I just wanted to whack him with the pillow and tell him to shut the fuck up and take his stupid nap while I go get in the giant tub.

That being said, he was right about his first point, which is that I should be kinder to myself. This is a very bold statement from someone who took me to a bar that looks like an old timey opium den/brothel/sex dungeon for a date! Oh, so, this is the vibe you’re generally going for, yet you are sitting here judging me for participating? That’s so not cool, bro! Someone needs to be a little more woke when it comes to their sexuality, lol.

Anyway, that criticism aside, he is right. I should be kinder to myself. It’s just that my self-esteem has been chipped away over the years by my abusive family, the cult-like attitude of the small town I was trapped in for way too long, and the questionable relationships I’ve had with men. So now I’m in a place where I have to make up for that deficiency. I’m trying to figure out who I am and who I want to be and how to accept my life for what it is. Radical self-acceptance is the key.

His other two pieces of advice were less inspiring. He told me I need to call my grandmother and that I need to go freeze my eggs ASAP. Dude, the egg-freezing thing was so weird. Why does this random man care so much about MY ovaries when he’s just going to get on a plane and block me as soon as he sets foot back in Switzerland? That’s so annoying! So annoying. What game are we playing here, again? How did we go from Pretty Woman to Fertility Doctor in the span of five minutes? What the fuck is going on here?

As for the advice about calling my grandmother… meh. There’s no point. We have nothing to talk about. She thinks life should be lived one way and one way only, and I do not live my life that way. She’ll tell me to stop writing, and I’ll say, “No.” She will ask me to change everything about who I am as a person, and I will say, “Why can’t you just accept me for who I am? That’s what Jesus would do!” Then she’ll get upset and blame me for her mood without ever taking any accountability whatsoever.

In my family, the problem is ALWAYS me. No one ever has to take accountability for the shitty things they say and do to hurt me. It’s always my reaction to their behavior that is the problem. I am not supposed to stand up for myself, set clear boundaries, or communicate how I feel about anything, ever. I’m just supposed to sit still, stay quiet, and do whatever I’m told. Keep sweet, pray and obey, god’s love is everything, blah blah blah, just kill me now.

Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, bro. But thanks for the “advice,” I guess?

I’ll just stick with the whole “being kinder to myself” thing. Guess that means saying NO to dates with guys like him, right? Right.

Congratulations, bro, you played yourself. No more old timey opium den-inspired sex dungeon fantasies for you! Next time, you’ll actually have to pay a professional for that!

Anyway, forget him. He sucks.

Had to pause my writing to chat with one of the baristas at my favourite coffee shop. It is her day off today so she came in to load up on snacks before she goes to class. She is studying filmmaking. She wants to be a producer. We have a lot in common.

She was saying she doesn’t feel confident with her English, so I was encouraging her to practice with me. She’s way better than she thinks she is. She explained that she lacks confidence because her family taught her to be quiet and introverted. Same, same! I was just writing about that same exact topic! I definitely feel less alone after that conversation.

She was surprised that I was struggling with the same confidence issue. She was like, “But you’re American! Americans are SO confident! You’re so friendly and open. You don’t have any problem talking to anyone! I wish I could be as confident as you are!”

True, but I have to work really hard on that. If you see me around my family, I am NOT the same person, like… at all. They even said to me in Bangkok, “It’s crazy how different you are now than when we first met you. You were sitting in the corner alone, all curled up, terrified to talk to anyone. Now you just waltz right in like this entire room full of men isn’t absolutely terrified of YOU.”

True, true, true.

And obviously confident enough to be going on dates to old timey opium dens with sexy Russians dressed in leather. And then write it about all with ZERO shame whatsoever!

It is what it is!

Off now. Gotta go back and clean up my studio, again. Sadly, I will probably not be attending the Hong Kong Sevens rugby tournament this weekend, even though it’s one of HK’s biggest events. No one to go with, no tickets, not the kind of party one can simply just attend on their own.

Or maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will extend a last minute invite to a junk boat party! Looking at you, Neighbor Guy!

Alas. Maybe next year…

BLOG: Stories from SEA

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Thursday. Where does the time go? I have no idea.

What am I doing? I have no idea. Making a mess of my life and my finances in pursuit of my insane dream to become a professional writer. Seriously, what am I doing right now?

I should have just gone to Africa.

Well, I guess I kinda did when I was working for the South African company. That was a very eye-opening experience about the realities of the world we live in.

No regrets. Only adventures and misadventures of all kinds.

Besides, I really do love living in Hong Kong. What a special experience I get to have! I just don’t know how to play the hand I have. I’m working on it, though.

At the end of the day, I’m happy I came here. I just could not live in South Dakota anymore. It’s such a dark memory for me. I see reminders on Instagram and get these terrible flashbacks. I just want to forget about it forever.

New stories! Always new stories!

This year has just been… the time I needed to figure out who I am and what kind of person I want to be moving into the future.

What I’ve learned is that I am tired of dating. I don’t want to have any more one night stands. I definitely want to be in a relationship with someone stable for awhile. No more sadists dressed in leather riding on motorcycles, if you know what I’m saying.

How did I let myself get roped into that one? Ugh.

My friend says it’s “giving whips and chains vibes.” I don’t know what that means. I mean, I do know what it means, but umm… like… how do I explain this?

I’ve only seen that represented in fiction, like books or movies. I hate to admit this, but I’ve seen all three 50 Shades movies and all three 365 Days movies. I know what this is. I’m not wearing a silk blindfold over here.

I just have never encountered someone in real life who was like that. It was really intense. And then they just up and disappear on me like that? That’s not something you casually do with a stranger you just met last night. I know this because I spent several hours researching the topic the other day once I realized exactly what I was dealing with. You would be surprised by how many peer-reviewed academic sources exist on the subject.

It’s just like my encounter with the finance bro doing coke off the toilet seat. I’m not totally naive that this is something normal in this world. I know what’s happening when people constantly disappear to the bathroom. It’s just never been right up in my face like that before.

So to me, a person who has generally been living a very sheltered life out in South Dakota for the last 17 years, things like Russian men casually doing BDSM and finance bros snorting coke off a toilet seat in broad daylight are somewhat shocking to me. I just didn’t expect people to behave that way IRL. Well, I did, just not in front of me. If I was cool enough to be invited to the party, I would have gotten over this stuff in my early 20’s.

And I hear I thought some of the people I met in Thailand were shocking. No, no, Thailand is where these guys go when they want to retire on a beach somewhere with some chick who is 30 years younger than them. Hong Kong is where they get the money to fund their Sick Water Buffalo Farm.

Anyway, circling back, I am now pretty upset about The Russian thing. I feel like I was duped into doing something that I don’t really understand and now it’s hurting me. I don’t think I really understood the psychological implications of whatever we were doing. I told you it felt like some kind of weird scorpion mating/bonding ritual. Now he has completely withdrawn, as is the way this ritual apparently goes, and I don’t like it. At all.

I’m looking back on it with regret because this is just not something you do casually with a stranger. I mean I guess some people are into that, but I am definitely not. I feel like the whole thing is about communication and you need to be with someone long-term to develop the trust you need for something like that. There is no trust with a random stranger.

There is also the aspect that he was in that bar because he had already been there earlier in the day and decided to come back to see the bartender. Then he saw me instead. So he was in there “hunting” and would have gone after her had I not been there. This makes the entire situation worse for me. Like, so he just completely glamoured me and then roped me into this weird sexual fetish he has without my consent? What the fuck!

And then he says I can’t write about it? Yeah, no, screw that. I’m writing about it, bro. This is what I live for. This is what I do. I document the crazy shit that I see in the SEA. Now we have a new story to add to the collection. This collection that is full of stories about sex workers in Dubai, racist South Africans, sick water buffalo, Latin Lovers, Irish gangsters on the run from the law, kratom-induced hallucinations of the Loch Ness Monster, weird wannabe spiritual guru grifters in Bali, hot GAA players, mean immigration officials, old Pattaya boys zapping off tasers, finance bros doing coke and K, crazy Hong Kong Taxi Mafia drivers, wise Filipina aunties, unattractive throuples, Aussies and Canadians conspiring to make Trump their King, and now a Russian who apparently just casually does BDSM with random strangers in his free time on work trips.

Grand! Just grand!

Nope, wouldn’t trade this for the world!

You know what I need to add to this list? We’re all thinking it: boat party. Yes. Put me on that Junk Boat. Put me on the yacht, mini, mega, supersize, whatever. I don’t care what it is. I just want to go party on a boat and watch the shit go down, preferably under a full moon. Powers of manifestation: go!

I think as of right now, Hermès is probably my favourite character. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of that baby face, but I’ve got a soft spot for him. Don’t want to bang him or date him or even really see him, to be honest, but I appreciate the complexity of his character. I could write like seven movies just about his life alone, and all of them would feature a different beautiful brunette as his leading lady. That’s valuable. That’s my little pot o’ gold right there.

It’s been a good year. I’m grateful to have such a crazy story to tell. This is what I live for! This is all I’ve ever wanted to do. I believe in the story that is unfolding, even if I don’t quite know where it’s leading me yet.

Today is definitely a good day to climb The Peak. As Kim Kardashian once said, “Get up off your ass and WORK!”

Okay, okay, let’s get to WERK.

BLOG: I’m Cracking the Egg Joke

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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.

BLOG: The Philosophy of Sex & Love

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Philo of Sex and Love

Sunday morning. Went to the coffee shop to get my coffee to-go so I could come back home to snuggle up in bed and write while watching the rain outside all day. Perfect!

I tried doing this yesterday with insta-coffee packets, but they just don’t do it for me. I always end up falling right back to sleep. The baristas at my coffee shop are all artists and writers and filmmakers and creative types, so they know the exact chemical equation to make a coffee that is going to keep a creative going through the day.

Anyway, how am I doing otherwise? Just grand, actually. I feel pretty good about my date this week. I really feel like I took control of that situation before it took control of me.

I’m not “hung up” on him, but he did leave me with several extremely very philosophical, deeply existential questions to chew over for some time. This is probably the best outcome we could hope for from all of that. How very Russian of him.

I think it’s okay to write about my debates on these questions, but I do have to be careful about what I say about him. He directly told me he doesn’t want me to write about him. I took that to mean, “Don’t use my real name, don’t write about my business, don’t transcribe our conversations, and don’t talk about what we do in the privacy of the bedroom.”

I’m cool with all of that.

Honestly, I could not explain to you what he does for work if I tried. He explained it to me like 7 times and every single time I was like, “You might as well be speaking Ukrainian right now because I don’t understand a goddamn word you’re saying.”

I think Finance might actually be the most boring topic ever as far as I’m concerned. Like, ugh. God knows what any of these people actually do for work. I try to listen when they explain and every time I just zone right out. Can’t do it. It just puts me right to sleep.

All I got from from that conversation was, “I’m the Boss.”

Okay. Grand. That much I understand. You’re the Boss!

Anyway, what was I writing about?

Oh yes, my deep, philosophical questions about love and sex. Haha, good thing I took an actual class in university called “The Philosophy of Sex and Love.” I am ready to debate these topics with myself.

The first thing I decided to do is separate out my “Old Life” from my “New Life.” Everything before I left South Dakota is no longer relevant to this conversation.

As far as I am concerned, my real life started when I went to the Yoga Shala in India in May 2024. That is when I feel I was “reborn” in a spiritual sense.

Everything before that was a different world, a different life, a different persona, a different version of me. Not relevant to this conversation at all.

This means the guys featured on the current season of the Island of Lost Guys are:

1. My Haryanvi ex from India who I was in a long-distance relationship with for a year and planned to marry before we broke up in Dubai at the beginning of this trip.

2. The Mexican-American guy I met in Bangkok the first time I ever went to the American Bar.

3. The British Guy, who I also met at the American Bar in Bangkok. We can all agree he is a stupid bloody wanker.

4. The Man with a Plan from Panama who Fixed my Canal. He was Panamanian-American. I also met him at the American Bar in Bangkok. This joke is funny because he really is an engineer IRL.

5. The Hot Beef Stew from Ireland. Also met him at the American Bar in Bangkok. Now we know why I was so obsessed with this bar! It was like hitting the jackpot! We found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow over there!

6. My new Russian friend from Germany or Switzerland (or wherever it was) who I met in Hong Kong last week. Let’s just go out on a limb here and assume we will never see nor hear from him ever again. I even tried to google him and nothing came up, so I was like, “Yeah, no, let’s just leave that one alone before we really do have to call in Liam Neeson.” I’m not chasing that guy down. Hell nawwww to the naw, naw, naw.

Though I did have brief flirtations with three other men, none of them were interesting or memorable enough to make the final cut for this team. I didn’t sleep with them. I wasn’t interested in them. They didn’t even make it into the final elimination round. They got knocked out of the ring very early on.

Anyway, these Representatives from the Six Nations are the characters we are working with here in this debate. I willingly and consensually slept with these men. I had very different relationships with all of them. The feelings I felt for each of them were different. Now I have had this experience with The Russian, so I can look at each of these and figure out what’s going on here.

So this debate started as a result of a conversation I had with The Russian, which I think is fine to summarize here. If he doesn’t like it, he can complain directly to me. I know he will because he is like that.

As I mentioned, he is a Scorpio male. I am a Scorpio female. Our birthdays are very close together. The energy was matching. If you had been in the room with us, you would have felt the intense chemistry between us. It was very strong.

However, in Chinese astrology, he is a Dog and I am Dragon. Traditionally speaking, that makes us enemies. One could say that is represented by the whole Russian-American thing. It was also clear our values systems do not align, as I am very, very “woke” and he is decidedly not. We definitely had a classic Enemies-to-Lovers dynamic going on there.

So this Scorpion man was explaining to me what he values in a partner. I think we did align on a lot of it, but again, that’s just the inherent Scorpio nature at work. You know, everything about trust and loyalty. Marriage is a business deal. You need someone who is going to be your equal partner who is operating on the same level, even if there are differences between the two.

In this specific pairing, that would be represented by him being more traditionally masculine-coded, while I am more traditionally feminine-coded. But also, not really on my end, because I do behave and speak in ways that are traditionally more masculine-coded and that’s why so many people (especially men) dislike me.

That being said, I don’t want to be a man. I don’t see myself as a man. I’m very happy to be a woman and use my feminine charms to my advantage, especially now that I’m learning how to actually do that in a way that empowers me.

Back to the Scorpion thing. So everything he was saying about this made sense to me. I sat there and thought, “These are all of the reasons I was dating my Indian Guy. He presented himself as a strong alpha Scorpion man who wanted these things.”

In Indian astrology, my ex is a Scorpion. However, in the West, he is not a Scorpio. He is a Pisces. So it was only a matter of time before I stepped into the position of coddling him because he’s actually just an overgrown manbaby who wanted his mommy and expected me to be his mommy. I don’t want to be his mommy. The End.

So then I had my Latin lovers, both of whom were excellent in bed. They were in touch with their emotions, they understood the concept of mutual pleasure, they were open with their sexuality, and they were concerned about making sure I was enjoying myself.

Honestly, I felt things during those nights I’ve never felt in my entire life. I didn’t even know my body could do that! Very pleasant experiences over all. The emphasis here is definitely on the physical experience of Pleasure.

But again, they both got on planes and left. I think the Mexicali is dating some blonde chick now. Good for him. I’m jealous, but happy for him.

Meanwhile, Panamanian guy was too controlling for me. Like he didn’t just have a plan to fix my canal. He had a whole plan to fix my life. He’s a fixer. I don’t want a fixer. I want a partner. It was doomed to fail from the start.

The British Guy was just a wanker. He was awful! Ugh! He was so mean. He treated me like shit. He talked badly about me behind my back and to my face. He was incredibly disrespectful in every single way. I regret allowing him to behave like that towards me.

It’s a good thing my Irish Family showed up and literally physically removed me from him. They were right and I was wrong. They said, “You need to learn how to stand up for yourself. Be kind to yourself. Treat yourself better. You don’t deserve to be abused like that. You are a strong Irish lady. You need to learn that we Irish don’t EVER take shit from the English. Stop taking shit from this colonizer wanker.”

Enter Mr. Hot Beef Stew. Now, the feeling that I experienced when I was with him was very, very, very strong. It was very different than anything I’d experienced before. It felt cozy, safe, comfortable, familiar, protective, warm, loving, kind. Literally like eating a bowl of Irish stew while cuddled up in a warm blanket by the fire on a rainy day.

My theory now after learning more about my Irish heritage is that what this was is actually “Irish Love.” It was special, but not because he and I are a good match or soulmates or whatever. This is just the way of Irish people. The universe brought him into my life to open the door to Ireland, help me find my family, and discover history, culture, and heritage.

Now we circle back to our Russian Scorpion friend. How did I even describe my feelings about this date after explaining all of this? I don’t know. I don’t know what that was. That was like… some bizarre scorpion mating ritual. I don’t know what that was. It wasn’t any of these things I just explained. I can only say it was very intense.

But also… like… what’s the point of feeling any way about it? He got on a plane and left. Now he’s back to living his real life and I’m back to living my real life. That’s it. That’s the end. There is no more to this story and never will be.

My takeaway is that I’ve gotten enough experience that I recognized it for exactly what it was. I managed to take control over the situation before it took control of me. I put up my boundaries. I didn’t get fixated or obsessed or convince myself whatever we were doing was going to end with us falling in love. It was just sex.

I said, “Okay, we’re gonna do this, but we’re gonna do this in a way that I feel comfortable with and consent to. It’s not just about what you want. We all know you only want sex. So I’m gonna have the sex I want in the way I want so that I don’t walk away from this encounter with any regrets.”

In the end, I’m not sure that what I asked him for was really what I wanted, but I’m glad I tried it. Like I said, it felt like an experiment. It was all fully consensual. Like, okay, we did that once and now we know maybe it’s not for me after all.

Now, I’m not fixating on him. I am just philosophizing in a very general way, which is better for me. Clearly, there is some kind of internal growth happening here. That’s good.

Moving forward… what do I want? I guess I still don’t really know. I think the bare minimum for me right now is to find someone that is going to stick around longer than a couple of nights. Hard to find. Probably impossible.

I think it would be a good starting point to stop doing the one night stand thing and find someone who sticks around long enough to develop some level of intimacy. Sex is better with intimacy, or so I’ve heard. I wouldn’t fucking know, lol.

I gotta just find someone who is open to experimentation and willing to communicate directly about it so we can both enjoy ourselves. Then just let whatever happens just happen from there.

I definitely know I don’t want to do the whole marriage/family/house in the suburbs thing. That is not for me.

I also know I don’t want to be with someone who is going to try to control me or fix me. I would like a partner who accepts me as the neurodivergent weirdo I am and doesn’t try to change it or beat it out of me.

He must be also supportive of my writing career and maybe provide gentle guidance in the right direction when I’m stuck or blocked.

I definitely need someone who can provide the stability and structure that I desperately need but am clearly incapable of providing for myself.

Most importantly, they have to be fun. I don’t want someone who is super uptight and serious all the time. I want someone who comes home from work and is like, “Office mode off! Fun mode on!”

I don’t want someone who comes home from work after a bad day and starts screaming at me or using me as a punching bag. That’s how my parents treated me until I was 35. I’m over it!

I don’t care how bad your day was or how many assholes you had to deal with. You better not come home and take it out on me. I’m not taking that shit from a partner. I’ve been through too much therapy for that. I am not your scapegoat. Period.

So now we know… this is what I actually want. I can vocalize this now. That is progress!

Overall, I feel pretty good about my time at SEA so far. It’s not what I expected it to be, but I’ve learned so much about myself and who I am and what I want.

I’m finally starting to find some sense of an identity that isn’t entirely built upon my intense collective of negative, traumatic past experiences.

I’m making my own choices, even if they aren’t always great ones. I’m learning from my mistakes. I’m in control of my destiny. No one is there calling the shots or telling me what I can/should do. I’m learning how to be free and independent and exist on my own.

This is it. I’m free. I’m on my own for the first time in my adult life. It’s hard, but I’d rather have it this way than be trapped in my parents’ house back in SD cleaning up everyone else’s messes while being screamed at and sabotaged and actively denied the ability to leave on every occasion possible.

I just never want to be trapped in a situation like that ever again. If that means avoiding the “traditional marriage and family” plan, then so be it. I really don’t want that. I already did it and I hated it. I don’t want to stay at home with a child all day and make snacks and do crafts and watch cartoons and Disney movies and read the same books over and over again.

I don’t want to be trapped in a big old haunted house with no option to leave just so someone can come home at rail on me every single night because they refuse to get the therapy they desperately need. I will not go through that again. I will not!

I want to be an adult out in the adult world doing adult things. I want the perks of a relationship. I want fun trips and nice gifts and good sex and emotional intimacy and direct communication and to be in an equal partnership where both of us are healthy and happy and feel heard and seen and understood.

So, none of these previously mentioned men are going to do that for me. However, I am happy that I met all of them and grateful to them for teaching me this lesson in their own ways.

Well, now all of that is settled. We got the Love & Sex question sorted out. What are we going to do about this whole Money & Career question? It’s fucked. Shit is fucked. The world is fucked.

I think… I really just want to go back to school now. Anyone got an extra $20-$50k USD laying around to help me out? Ha ha ha. Just kidding, of course.

Or am I?

BLOG: I Love Men!

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Friday evening. I came to this place because I wanted to sit outside, but they closed it because it was raining. Now I am sitting inside, which is not fun because there is a child in the corner screaming. Another family with children just came in.

Vibe killer!

Totally not into it. I am going to change locations after this glass of wine. Or maybe I will just eat here. I really need to eat something. I am fasting for Passover so I’ve only been eating crackers until sundown. I am sooooo hungry. I’m just going to have a little side of mac and cheese.

Otherwise, just sitting here thinking about date with the Russian. Wow, what was that? So wild. As much as I would love to share every little detail, I shall refrain from doing so since that was what we agreed upon. That being said, it was so hot! He was hot.

Gotta love those Scorpion men. Wowza.

I also think it’s funny that the bar at this world-famous hotel looks like an old timey brothel/opium den from a bad James Bond film. It was so funny!

This is way more enjoyable to relive than my memory of the Hot Beef Stew. No mystery. No drama. Just one and done. Just like that.

I would bang him again, for sure. But I’ll probably never see him again, so, no point in worrying too much over it. Welcome to expat relationships in SEA. They always get on a plane and leave.

I also think this was better because he was very direct with me, therefore I felt comfortable directly asking him for what I want. I’m not sure how I felt about it, but I had also never tried it before. I guess you would just call it an experiment.

Maybe what I thought I wanted isn’t actually what I want? I don’t know. That’s why I’m dating and experimenting. I’m trying out different things.

I also enjoyed not “being on” with him. Like I did not have to be the persona of “Betsey Horton Writer Extraordinaire,” which is actually quite exhausting. I like to just be “Liz” when I’m not working or worrying about writing or anything like that.

It was a nice little escape from reality. Now I have stars in my eyes. Love it!

Dating is fun! Men are fun! I think I only hated them before because I was stuck in South Dakota and none of them were attractive. Very easy to hate. Now I get to date hot international beefcakes who dress well and smell good and work out at the gym! Very easy to love!

Awww, here my Russian was so worried about being cancelled and instead he magically cured me of my misandry! Amazing! That’s why no one can conquer Russia. Russia always conquers you.

That’s a good story. I like a good story. That is why I collect men like Pokémon cards. I’m starting to lose count of them now. I just have binders full of men.

Now I’ve added a Russian to my binder. Very sexy. Very hot. Very sparkly. I would definitely qualify him as a rare holographic special edition card.

I think he is probably right about me needing to find a male scorpion partner. I’ve spent too long mooning over the lions and coddling the fish.

Anyway, he said very directly to me, “Do not fall in love with me.” To me, that is code for “I am just here for a short, one-time business trip. I have a wife and family back home. I told you a fake story so I could fuck you. I will never see or speak to you again.”

Grand. Glad we are on the same page. I just wish they would be honest with me about it. I don’t trust them to tell the truth anymore. I just don’t. It’s happened to me too many times. I know better than to believe the lies now.

I fucked him because it was fun and I wanted to. I also really wanted to stay in that hotel. I’m not even gonna lie to you. I love luxury hotels. I stay in them whenever I have the chance.

That’s why I’m so bitter about the bathtub thing. Do you know how long it’s been since I had a nice, long, hot bath? So unfair! The tub was literally 75% of the reason I agreed to this date in the first place!

Next time, I’m not gonna let him say no to me. I am taking the goddamn bath and I don’t care if he complains about it. What’s he gonna do? Cancel me for being a strong alpha female woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it? Ha! I’d like to see him try!

Somehow, I highly doubt that will happen…