Tag: Hot Beef Stew

BLOG: And We Will Go Stag Hunting No More

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Saturday evening.

Here I am at one of the Irish pubs in Bangkok. I won’t tell you the name, but I will tell you that it rhymes with Potato Olés, lol. I was told this is the best one. I was definitely lied to. It’s not that exciting. It’s mostly the weekend afternoon post-golf crowd. Snooze fest!

Still, I have a feeling something weird is going to happen today, so I will just sit here and wait for whatever it is. Based on the kind of things I’ve seen in Bangkok so far, I can’t even imagine.

Big Trouble in Little Bangkok, as they say…

I’m sure that sitting here on my iPad writing will not help my situation. I do not plan to stay for very long. I think I would rather stick with what is close and familiar, even if it does not like me in return.

I hope I do not see anyone I know. Based on the type of people I know, that would not be a good thing. Welcome to Bangkok, I guess. That’s just how it is here. The whole place is just full of degenerate lads. Luckily for me, I don’t recognize any of them from my so-called Krewe of degenerate lads.

That doesn’t mean no one recognizes me. Like “hey, isn’t that that writer my friend talks about?”

I will say the atmosphere in here is way different. I think I might be the youngest person here aside from actual children. So fun. No attractive men at all. Of course.

I swear to you, Mr. Hot Beef Stew has completely taken all of the fun out of trophy hunting for me. What a bummer. It’s like I look around and hear him saying, “How would you like to take home another random stranger who turns out to be married?!” No thank you! Fun ruined. He’s a fun-ruiner. Sigh.

I am very much not relaxed right now, even though I am completely surrounded by middle-aged people. I guess now I’m starting to get to the age where I will be middle-aged people.

There is no one questionable in the area that I’ve seen. I guess I just have to sit here and wait for something interesting to happen…

I don’t usually venture out this far from home alone. I have been to this neighborhood before, but I was with other people. It’s sad how little I actually explore outside of my bubble. In truth, I spend most of my time here sleeping and doing yoga. Then apparently go out and get into trouble just by sitting down at a bar full of questionable men.

Yes, it’s good to get out of the bubble, even if I am alone on Valentine’s Day. I don’t really care about that. I’m always alone. It’s just another day. Besides, I’m in Thailand, and there’s rugby on TV, so… I’m doing just grand!

I really want some French fries. Give me the potatoes!

Hmm… I feel I will be writing a story about Hermes soon. He is a very strong character. He comes through loud and clear. I think he might be my favourite character from SEA so far. I enjoy unraveling the complexity going on over there.

Naturally, my fascination with him is not of the romantic kind. It’s more like studying an individual human mind. The only fascination I have with anyone of the romantic kind is the Hot Beef Stew, which I know I must let go of, but which a chemical compound known as oxytocin still binds me to. We will simply have to wait until it all burns off. There’s nothing else to be done. I should be doing more hot yoga to help the process along, I know.

Anyway, the situation at the American Bar is quite funny now. They are all afraid of me. None of them dare utter a word when I come around, lest I record it via written word and immediately post it on the internet for 12 whole people to see! Oh no! Watch out! She might put you on her highlight reel for the year! Heaven forbid this woman make an actual friend!

Funny. Also never going to happen.

Happy Valentine’s Day to me! All I need is a spa, a drink, some rugby on TV, and French fries and I am good to go!

I do have to say this is the worst table set-up I’ve encountered so far here in SEA. Like, period. Is this booth made for a giant? Why is the table so small and why is it so far away from the booth seat? Why is there a whole foot of space between my chest and the table and an additional foot of space between my back and the booth? Not a fan!

Also the service is questionable, at best.

I do wish I was sitting outside on the patio, but it’s too damn hot. Hong Kong is cold. Not as cold as South Dakota, but still cold. Here it is very, very hot. I do prefer the hot, sunny weather overall, but still.

You know what’s hot? These rugby players on TV. Yes and yes. BTW, do you guys know what Gaelic Football is? Neither do I. However, I have recently learned that A, it exists and B, that hot men in tight shorts play it! Amazing! Will settle for a Gaelic Footballer if a rugby player is not available! I am extremely open-minded! Athletes in general are HOT!

I learned about it because I am learning to be Irish, so obviously the Gaelic Sports had to pop up at some point. I’m not that big on sports in general, but again, I’m open-minded. Athletes are hot!

…

I know, I really need something to do with my infinite amount of free time. That’s why I keep getting into trouble instead of doing something worthwhile.

I finally had to pull the table closer to me. I am a very tiny person. I cannot take the large distance anymore!

What am I doing with my life? What am I doing with my life? I don’t know. I have no idea. I think I should just go to Ireland and get a Masters Degree and find me an Irish hottie with a body while I’m at it. Forget the Hot Beef Stew! Yes, he is hot and sexy and very, very fit, but he is also married. Therefore, he can and will be replaced by someone who is not married!

I hate him for lying to me about that. So unfair! So deceitful! Especially because I was already upset about the stupid British Guy!

Nothing I have to say is important or relevant to anything or anyone in the modern-day world. I am just sitting here recording what I go through on a daily basis just for the sake of documenting my experience as a human being on this earth.

Okay, the results are officially in. How did their Irish Stew compare to the others I’ve had out here in SEA?

Meh!

It was very bland, actually. Definitely… Unfulfilled. Like it could be so much more but it’s just a massive disappointment instead. Welcome to the perfect metaphor for life at SEA.

I’m not convinced that was worth coming all the way up here for. Oh well. That’s just my luck, I guess. That’s what happens when I listen to voices in my head say, “Go to this one! I have a gut feeling something interesting is going to happen here!”

And then nothing happened, and the stew was unfulfilled, and it was all a perfect metaphor for my general experience of living in SEA. And then maybe she lived happy ever after? The end?

Yeah right.

Okay, time to ditch this banana stand and go back to my neighborhood. Should be a bit more lively over there. It usually is! Let’s just drink until I forget that I have any feelings whatsoever, lol.

Have a nice day!

BLOG: I Don’t Know Why You’re Mad

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Saturday. Here I am again at my beloved coffee stand. At least the aunties here like me, if no one else does.

The smog is bad today. The heavy exhaust fumes are making my eyes water. I knew it would be bad, but wow. Yeah. It’s much worse than I thought.

Today I am feeling more lost than ever. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I have no direction or focus at all. It’s very frustrating.

The only thing I can think of to do is yoga. And to go get my nails done, which I really need to do today. Non-negotiable.

Last night was strange. “Old Man Smiley” is still mad at me. Why, I do not understand. I thought we had resolved things, but apparently he has chosen to be undiplomatic in his dealings. I don’t really understand, but whatever.

At the end of the day, these people chose to talk to me. I told them upfront I was a writer. They all said, “Go ahead and write about me! I don’t care!” And then I did, and what do you know? Looks like they do care after all.

Anyway I’ve barely featured him at all since I came back because of his request. I don’t know what he’s mad about. I really don’t. You guys can all sit there and call me a whore, a slut, a bitch, a cunt, whatever you want, and I’m just supposed to laugh it off. But if I write down a funny conversation or exchange I had, suddenly it’s a problem.

Whatever.

Men are fragile creatures. What did you really expect? They’re always complaining about something. Three months ago, they were mad at me because I was “acting like a slut” and now they are mad at me because I keep an online diary. Whatever.

I mean, it could be worse. I could actually be writing about what these guys are doing in Pattaya, but I’m not. Instead I’m focused on me and whatever chaos is happening around me in this exact moment.

It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s just a mean old drunk. A Barfly. His opinion doesn’t really count.

He said, “I can’t believe they let you back into the country.”

Like, why? I didn’t actually do anything wrong last time. I just didn’t book a return flight, which was dumb. I had a whole situation to sort out with Hong Kong immigration anyway. Otherwise, I have not insulted the Kingdom or the Royal Family, I do not interfere with Thai politics in any way, I don’t do anything illegal, I didn’t overstay my visa, I’m not working or getting paid, and I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of money supporting Thai-owned businesses here.

I’m sorry you’re mad that I posted a selfie of us smiling together and a video of me dancing. That doesn’t mean I actually did anything wrong. I am who I am. I’ve made it very clear that I write what I write because I think it’s interesting to watch, not because I have an agenda to write bad things about people. If you don’t like the image of yourself that you see reflected here, that is your problem, not mine.

So, just fuck off with this bullshit already. Going around badmouthing me behind my back to anyone who will listen is not an acceptable way to handle the problem.

I’m just a woman on a journey trying to find myself. It’s not that big of a deal.

Anyway, I don’t have a problem with them. They have a problem with me. I am not involved with whatever this is. If anyone needs me, I’ll just sitting over here in the corner watching rugby alone while eating my Hot Beef Stew. Who needs one man for Valentine’s Day when you can have the whole Irish rugby team? Slainte, fam! Slainte!

Okay, off to make my daily contribution to the sick water buffalo farm known as Bangkok. Manicure, pedicure, looking fresh, feeling fly! Happy Valentine’s Day to me, from me, love you, gurl!

BLOG: The Taser Guy

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Thursday here in Bangkok. I never could have imagined my life would someday look like this.

Last night was really quite something. I decided to wander on down to the American Bar, where a new adventure undoubtedly awaited. I was correct, as per usual.

I wasn’t sitting in there very long before an “Old Pattaya Boy” (as they say here) came into the bar waving around a taser. He was pointing it at the ceiling and zapping it on and off. Everyone laughed as if this was completely normal behavior. One person even said, “The Legend has returned!”

Ohhhh Bangkok…

Sometime later, I was left alone in the bar with only company of this man. As soon as the others were out the door, he fixated on me and said, “They told me not to talk to you. What did you do to piss them off? Why are they all so afraid of you?”

I caved into the inevitable conversation, hoping this man would not taze me into oblivion. His eyes were red and wild, his hair was unwashed and strung out, and he looked like he could possibly fall over at any moment. Naturally, he was from Belfast, and was feeling much better since he stopped doing cocaine.

“I’m a writer,” I said. “They are mad at me because I have been writing stories about this bar.”

“This bar?” He repeated. “You’re writing about this bar? What are you writing about this bar?”

“Just my observations about the people I meet and some of the weirder things that happen to me. Like tonight.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to go home after this and write a story about some crazy old guy from Belfast coming into the bar with a taser?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Are you going to use my real name?”

“No.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that then?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. There must be some reason they are still mad at me.”

“You must have written about someone they know.”

“I’ve written about a lot of people they know.”

“Like who?”

“Do you know [name redacted]?”

At this, his eyes widened.

“Yes, I’ve known him for over a decade now. How do you know [name redacted]?”

“I met him here. He walked right up to me and started telling me his life story.”

“Ah, so you know who he is back home. He’s a wanted man. He lives here in exile. He can never go back to Northern Ireland. I just wonder to myself… why was it that he was never arrested? Do you know?”

“I imagine he worked out some kind of deal with the right person. Maybe traded information in exchange for protection. I can’t say for certain because I don’t know. That’s just my theory given what I know about him.”

“So you’ve been writing about him?”

“Yes. Of course. He told me I could write about him as long as I don’t use his real name. He is very braggadocious, as you know. He’ll tell anyone off the street his life story.”

“Well, you know not everything he says is true. Some of his stories are complete lies and fabrications. He’s full of shit.”

“Yes, I recently learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Oh, he was just trying to fuck you, wasn’t he? You’re definitely his type. He likes brunettes. So did you fuck him?”

“He’s not my type. He’s too pretty. He can’t handle the smack down.”

“Too pretty? I’ve seen him get punched in the face. Multiple times.”

“Maybe he can handle a physical beating, but he can’t handle a verbal one. I gave him one and he just crumpled. He can’t take it. I need a man who is not afraid of me.”

“What happened?”

“We had a disagreement. He gave me false information about somebody. He pissed me off, so I called him a child soldier and a little messenger boy. Now when I write about him, I use the name Hermes.”

The man from Belfast stared straight at me with no reaction whatsoever. He did not laugh. He did not smile. He simply nodded his head at me.

“That’s exactly what he is,” he stated plainly. “Hermes. The little messenger boy. That’s who he is. Spot on. You are right. You are correct.”

He continued staring down at me without breaking eye contact. I could see him doing the math in his head.

“I can’t imagine he was very happy when you said that to him.”

“No, he wasn’t, but he was messing with me and I didn’t like it. So I got right up in his face and messed with him back.”

“Good for you,” he said. “That’s the only way to get any respect around here. I’m starting to see why they are afraid of you.”

“That’s not the only reason.”

“There’s more?”

“Yes.”

“Of course there is more. Why don’t you tell me why Jason over there is so mad at you? He would not tell me what happened.”

“Oh, you mean Uncle Jason. Yes, he came in here one night with his very handsome Irish friend and the two of us ran off together into the night. Turns out his friend is married. Oops!”

“I see. So he is mad because you fucked his friend?”

“In so many words, yes. It would seem that way.”

“Interesting.”

“You know, I am part Irish. I don’t know anything about being Irish though. This is the first time in my life I’ve ever been around any Irish people. So, yeah, I would say things have gotten a little bit wild in here. It is what it is. I don’t know why Uncle Jason is still so hung up about it though.”

“I’ll have a nice little chat with Jason tomorrow and see what that’s all about. So nice to meet you, Betsey Horton.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“You know,” he said. “It’s very impressive that you’ve gotten this much attention in such a short period of time. I’ve known these guys twenty years and I’ve never seen them hate anyone as much as they hate you. I have not met anyone like you here before. You are a rare bird.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you making any money off of this? Because you should be making money off of this. You are someone. Just think of how much money we could make if we could get the whole world to hate you!”

“We?”

He suddenly looked up at me with dollar signs sparkling in his eyes. I’ve never seen a lightbulb light up above someone’s head so fast.

“Yes, yes, I will speak with them about you tomorrow. Very nice to meet you, Ms. Betsey Horton.”

Obviously, there was much more to this conversation, but all of the remaining details identify this person very specifically, so I have chosen to exclude them in order to protect his identity.

So that was a fun night. Gotta love dem Old Pattaya Boys. This guy was so funny. He kept saying, “I’ve been doing much better since I stopped doing cocaine” over and over, lololol! Luckily, he did not break out the taser again. I guess I entertained him enough not to be thrown to the rancor pit, lol. Such is the way of Jabba’s Palace.

Maybe he will read this. Or maybe not! He did admit to me that he is basically illiterate, so it’s unlikely he’ll stick around. I’m sure Uncle Jason will be more than happy to give him the Spark Notes version. Or perhaps we can get Hermes to do it, lol.

BLOG: Duplicitous

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Tuesday. The day after the crazy drinking marathon known as the Super Bowl. What a day it was…

After the event ended, I was left alone with my Old Irish Uncle, who insisted upon imparting more of his ancient wisdom upon me. This is how I learned that Hermès has been untrustworthy all along.

I was recounting the night the two of them got together and blew up my date with the British Guy, followed up immediately by the story about the Hot Beef Stew. He made a face at me.

“What a duplicitous bastard,” my Uncle said, in direct reference to the Hot Beef Stew. “He’s a liar on many levels. Not good for you.”

“Duplicitous,” I repeated. “That’s a good word for him.”

I turned my attention back to Hermès.

“Uncle,” I said. “Do you know that Hermès has been following me around?”

My Uncle made the same face at me again.

“What do you mean by that?”

“He was liking all my social media posts, he was sharing my blog around, he was all up in my business, and he fed me a fake story about the identity of the Hot Beef Stew.”

My Uncle shook his head in disappointment.

“I told Hermès to stay away from you. You know, the only reason he intervened is because he wanted you for himself. I told him no. Absolutely not. You’re a real Lady and you’re too good for him. There’s nothing he can offer you that’s in your best interest. He only cares about himself.”

I took out my phone and showed him our lengthy correspondence on Instagram. He shook his head again.

“I don’t want you corresponding with him anymore. He’s no good for you. He’s no good at all.”

“I am not corresponding with him at present. He blocked me because I called him a child soldier.”

At this, my Uncle’s eyes lit up. He roared with laughter.

“Toy Soldier, did you say? You called him a Toy Soldier? Hahahahaha! Oh boy, I bet he didn’t like that at all.”

“He did not. I also called him a little messenger boy.”

My Uncle’s eyes sparkled at me.

“That’s exactly what he is.”

“Right. So we don’t talk anymore.”

“Good. Keep it that way. Betsey, you don’t understand. He is full of shit. He would fuck you and throw you away and then go back to his girlfriend. That’s what he does to women. I’ve seen him do it a hundred times. He doesn’t care about you.”

“That’s why I kept him at arm’s length. I was more curious about his background story than anything else.”

“Oh yes, that, well… let me tell you something right now: he is no freedom fighter. He is not in the IRA. He is Irish Mafia. He’s a gangster. He is up to no good. I want you to stay away from him. You don’t know who these people are. You could end up dead. So, no. Stay away from him. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“It’s too bad he’s one of the only Irish people you’ve met. We need to get you out more. There’s better people out there than that riff-raff.”

“So wait, what you’re saying is that he lied to me? He never actually liked my writing?”

My Uncle just shook his head at me.

“That duplicitous bastard!”

Sometime later in the day, the two of us were sitting with an obnoxious American tourist and a random Irishman who had wandered in. The American guy was super off. I don’t know if it was drugs or the effect Thailand has on people in general, but I really didn’t like him. He was super not chill.

Unfortunately, I was stuck with him, as this is around the time my Uncle’s Thai wife, who absolutely hates me, decided to come down to the bar to fish him out. She was not happy that he had stayed there with me all day long talking, for she is a very jealous woman.

“Oh Uncle,” I said to him as joke in front of some of the other regulars who had come in. “Here you are so worried about me getting shot in the head by the IRA when in reality it’s your wife who has been plotting to kill me all along.”

All of the good old boys started laughing together. Even Mr. Antony’s Friend finally cracked a smile. I’m pleased to see I’m finally starting to win him over with my award-winning personality.

His energy was strangely calm when he first saw me. I did not see the signs of anger in him anymore. He gave me a glazed over look, passed me by, and said nothing. I wondered if he’d read my most recent posts about my discovery about the identity of the Hot Beef Stew. Perhaps he has finally accepted the inevitable, which is that I am here to stay. What his motives are, I do not know.

I only know that I have been dubbed “one of the lads” and therefore cleared to hang around in a bar full of men. Well done me, I guess.

At the end of the evening, I decided to go to the pot shop and then head home. It was a full day out that started at 7:30am and ended… I don’t even want to say when.

I agreed to let my new Irish friend give me a ride there on his scooter. We hung out in the hip hop lounge, which is always a vibe, and then he gave me a ride back to my apartment. He was pretty good on the scooter. I wasn’t afraid at all. Usually, I am very much afraid of the bikes and scooters. Must have been the whole Irish thing.

When I woke up this morning, the weight of the conversation about Hermès was weighing on me. I was not happy to receive this news. I already knew all of it, but being told directly to my face of his ill-intentions for me was upsetting. I’m just very tired of duplicitous men in general. I have a lot of bad experiences behind me. The last thing I want is more…

The other issue still weighing on my mind is that of Hong Kong. I love Hong Kong, I really do. It’s such a special place. But I also think I am just happier here in Bangkok. I think the pace and lifestyle suits me more. I guess it’s easier to see that now.

I also think it’s a matter of giving myself permission to explore and figure out what is right for me. Some days I feel like I don’t know who I am or what my purpose is. I’m just adrift at SEA, clinging onto the nearest floating island of plastic, hoping to land safely on shore.

I’m only in my first year here. So many of the people I meet and talk to have lived abroad for a decade, at least. They say I am still so young, so fresh, so green. There is so much to this world I do not yet know or understand. It’s okay to make some mistakes along the way!

And so, here we are at the end of another crazy adventure. Every day is a new story. That’s what I like most about Bangkok: the stories. Hong Kong is so busy and fast-paced. It’s harder to find the stories.

I don’t know what I want or what to do. I guess I should just go meditate on it…

BLOG: Real Life Choices

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Sunday morning at the coffee stand. I was not feeling well this weekend so I did not come here yesterday. I have not been feeling quite right ever since I ate the squid… never again.

Because of this, I haven’t really done anything since I made my discovery. I think Younger Betsey would have taken some kind of regrettable action out of anger, but mid-30’s Betsey who studied yoga in India and Bali, traveled to over a dozen countries, and now lives in SEA is not compelled to do much of anything besides order delivery on Grab, watch Bridgerton, and sleep.

I learned from meditating that it was satisfactory enough for me just to receive some kind of answer. It was such a relief. I don’t think it would have become such a big issue for me if there had not been an extremely questionable third party interfering for some unknown personal gain. Now it feels as if the whole matter is resolved and I don’t have to worry about it at all anymore. That’s all that matters.

Anyway, I also have more important matters to tend to, like my actual real life, where I have multiple problems staring me in the face. So I like a good escape. So what? It is what it is.

I like being in Thailand. I just don’t give a fuck. Everything seems so far away. Chill vibes only.

Hong Kong is so much more intense and expensive and competitive. Especially expensive. It’s stupidly expensive. I knew it would be expensive, but damn. Everything is so absurdly expensive all the time. It’s a money pit. I’m not getting much return on that very high-risk investment so far. It’s been a good learning experience, though. I don’t regret it one bit.

As you can see, I have to make a real choice here. I can’t really worry too much about anything else right now. I need to find something. I haven’t gotten any callbacks so far. It’s not ideal. Still, I persist.

Anther choice to be made? Whether or not I will go to this party tomorrow for the Super Bowl. It’s at an absurd and unreasonable hour here (6:30am). I’m clearly only interested in daydrinking with the crazy expats. I don’t care about American football. I also want to see how messy it gets, lol. It’s like a reality TV show in there. What kind of person wakes up at 6:00am on a Monday to go to a bar and watch a sports game in Thailand? We will find out the answer to this question tomorrow!

What am I doing with my life? No one knows… no one knows…

BLOG: Well Done

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Friday night. Sitting at the pot shop. I could go over to the American Bar, but…

I prefer the calm here for now. It’s not busy. Just me and the budtender and some rap music. Good enough for me.

She enjoyed my story about the discovery I made about the Hot Beef Stew. I did too. Ghosting can be scary, but sometimes all you need is to see the same situation from the light of day. Then it’s not so bad anymore.

It’s not so bad!

What have I done with the information I’ve recently acquired? Absolutely fucking nothing. Nothing except listen to Pimp Juice by Nelly 50x in a row. I don’t think you realize how much this discovery has boosted my self-esteem. Like, literally, what else is there to do except shrug my shoulders and smile in gratitude at my good fortune? We earned it, we deserve it. We trained for many years just to reach this moment. And it paid off.

It did. It really did. I was honestly not expecting that, which definitely works in his favor. I’m too shocked to do anything except sit here and say, “Oh, right, yeah, that all makes total sense now in hindsight. Maybe next time, don’t drink so many vodka sodas at the club.”

Right. Got it.

Honestly I really wasn’t expecting for anything to surface at all. So I would say that I am more in a state of shock right now than anything else. Also, I have this other very important issue tugging at the back of my mind, so this is really just a nice bonus.

Yeah, I mean, really my main take away right now is that I feel much better about myself than I did before this experience. Like in my heart, I want to be angry at him. But then I saw those pictures and I was like… I can’t do it anymore. Just give him a 5-star review and thank him for the once-in-a-lifetime personal life coaching experience. I feel stronger, more confident, and ready to use my talents to take the world by storm. Thanks again.

Hahahahaha, everything is going to be okay.

Okay, that’s enough for now. Time to go do something else now. Like maybe try not to think too much more about whatever the fuck that even was…

BLOG: Mystery Re-Solved

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Friday. Here we are, at the coffee shop. As per usual. This is literally what I do every day I am here.

Last night there was nothing interesting going on at the American Bar. I said, “I hope something interesting happens tonight.” And it did! So that was pretty exciting. Love it when I get my wish!

The bartender (who will sell out any farang down the river) told me that the Hot Beef Stew does not come to this bar very often, but that he was here last week. Hmm. Interesting.

She also said she still sees the British Guy sometimes. I guess it didn’t work out between him and his island girl. Apparently he comes in to cry to her every once in awhile. Good. I hope he ends up alone because he is a total jerk.

Meanwhile, in real life… what am I doing? I have no idea!

Showing off my intrepid reporting skills by finally unmasking the true identity of this very fit and skilled sporty beefcake? Mystery solved! He was a hot, sexy beefcake all along! Just as I suspected!

These last three months, I’ve been asking myself, “What was I thinking?” Then I saw the pictures of him playing sports and I was like… yeah, I know exactly what I was thinking. It’s not that deep, lol.

What I am not thinking about is reality…

I thought about it for most of the week. My search is still coming up with dead ends. I just want to take a break and get my nails done. Take a nap. Relax a bit now that I’ve solved the world’s greatest mystery. This is bigger than the Loch Ness Monster!

I truly am relieved now that I know who he is. It feels like I don’t have to worry about it anymore now that I know. I didn’t like not knowing. I didn’t think that was fair.

I saw his name. His name helped me a lot. I was like, “Ohhhhh… That explains why he was so fancy.” I knew I recognized his mannerisms from somewhere, but I could not quite place them. I can’t say exactly where for certain, but I can say I am quite familiar with the general regional culture and customs. Once I understood exactly what I was looking at, everything about his behavior made sense.

He was also very judgy about my so-called ‘luxury high-rise loft.’ Like, sorry I don’t have a grand palatial estate with white marble fountains and vast acres of fragrant gardens full of zebras and peacocks to offer you for your oh-so-temporary stay on this beautiful island oasis. Guess you’ll have to use your imagination for that. I’m sure whatever you had in mind was much more luxurious than anything I could ever possibly conceive of.

Well, now we have an explanation for all of it. Everyone knows hot athletic guys are fuckboys. Mystery solved! If I was a man and I had that body, I would definitely remove my shirt as often as possible for as many ladies as possible. Rock. Solid. Well done. Well done, indeed. Thank you for that. You’ve given me hope that my dream of becoming a WAG who does brunches and Pilates is still possible, LOL!

Keep the dream alive, fam.

Something, something, real life… Uhh… right. Let’s focus on that a bit more, shall we? Yes, please. Real life and more real life and then even more real life. Okay. Right. Got it.

Real life.

Focus.

BLOG: We Solved the Mystery!

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At last, we have done it!

We solved the world’s greatest mystery: the identity of the Hot Beef Stew.

I won’t say how I discovered this, but I found him by accident in a group photo. The account the photo belonged to led to a photo album full of pictures of him playing a sport. I won’t say which sport. I will only say… he looks really great playing the sport. I’m talking action shots. As in… he’s wearing the shorts and the tight shirt. He’s running and jumping and diving right into the mud. He’s sweaty and dirty and wow! He looked SO hot!

That payoff on this story was so much better than I was expecting! We hit the jackpot over here! Talk about finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow! This is what you’ve been keeping a secret from me all this time?!

This is why I got angry with Hermès. He fed me a fake story that had nothing to do with any of this. Why would you do that? What fun is there in messing with me this way? Why not just link me directly to these photographs? You have been keeping this information a secret from me and you have the audacity to get mad me for calling you a child soldier? Get the fuck out! Riff-Raff, indeed!

Meanwhile, at the bar, I just sat there with my iPad, deep in Creepsville, flipping through these photos, laughing so hard I was crying. I was so relieved to see how hot he was in the light of day. I was truly afraid he was going to be a paper-bagger. I was seriously concerned he was going to a total potato in the daylight and I just had my Thailand night vision goggles on.

By the end of it, I just gave myself a pat on the back like, “Good job, Betsey. Great snag. Look at this guy!!!!! He’s so hot! Way to bag the stag! That’s why we call him the Hot Beef Stew! Yeah, that’s soooo my type. Oh, Betsey, just look at this man. He’s so gorgeous. Just think… If this is what you’ve can accomplish while drunk and high and wearing elephant pants, imagine what you can accomplish while actually trying.”

Yeah, so, that was grand. Self-esteem boosted. Thanks for that.

I’m so relieved I finally solved the mystery of his identity. Now I can stop obsessing over him. From here on out, I can just be proud of the total stag I bagged.

Hell yeah!

I feel… relief. Yes, relief. Like I can take a breath of fresh air.

At the beginning I said that he could not get Ireland to win the gold medal on the Island of Lost Guys. I was wrong. He has taken the gold medal today.

Well done, sir. Well done, indeed.

Let’s go Team Ireland!

BLOG: Boardwalk-Park Place

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Wednesday. Sitting at the coffee stand. Watching the world pass me by. Not feeling quite as lost as I used to feel when I was here before in Thailand. Hong Kong has truly been a stabilizing force in my life. I would like more of that energy, please.

I haven’t been going out very much due to lack of energy, but I finally ventured out last night. The American Bar has become much less exciting than it used to be. All of my favourite characters are gone. I have moved on. It just doesn’t quite hold that spark of interest for me that I had prior. I appreciate the fact that it was there for awhile to help me work through my Bloody Mary’s karma. It definitely achieved that particular end goal.

Instead, I was sitting alone with my Chang, stewing over my Hong Kong real estate situation. As you can see, I am clearly in Bangkok because I have a place to reside here that I like and is quite comfortable for me. However, I do not have the same in Hong Kong (yet). I am quite tired of always feeling so unstable. Real estate is rapidly becoming my latest obsession. Forget all of these stupid men! I need a house!

Nothing very interesting took place there last night at all. I thought back to Friday night when I suddenly had to leave. I am sure that someone dropped kratom in my drink. I’m sure of it. It has a very strong, very specific effect on me that alcohol does not have. Mainly the hallucinogenic effects.

I can only assume whoever did it did it because they thought it would be a funny joke. Maybe they were trying to get me to leave on purpose. Maybe they were trying to teach me a lesson. I don’t know what their end goal was, but for me… I just went back to my apartment and hallucinated that I was trapped inside of a giant vat of honey. It wasn’t the worst night I’ve ever had. It definitely could have much worse.

Kratom isn’t really that hard on me, in spite of the fact that it makes me vomit every single time. Otherwise I imagine stupid bloody English wankers as lost Roman soldiers and see the Loch Ness Monster swimming around in my drink. Generally, pretty harmless. Well, not sure the whole escapade with the British Guy was harmless. He was a pretty big jerk.

With the magic mushrooms, I have to set up the room so it’s a safe space, follow the peer-reviewed experiment directions exactly, and make sure I keep the trauma map of my brain handy to safely guide me through the nightmarish process of confronting the dark parts of my past.

Funny to think that is exactly what I was doing a year ago today. Not I am here, in Asia, which is absolutely fucking wild to me. And I’m just casually getting drugged at a bar and laughing about it like it’s funny. Well, it is Thailand, and I have been hanging around several men of questionable character, so yeah, whatever. It is what it is.

I also have to wonder if my spa treatment that day directly contributed to the honeycomb effect. I did a 2-hour treatment including a steam bath, body scrub, aromatherapy massage, hot stone, and intensive head/shoulder/back massage. So I was already in a semi-sedated state. The alcohol, weed, and kratom together just pushed me into a fully melted state.

Now I know how all of these guys get stuck in Thailand for so long. I’ve figured out the secret. They out here trapping scorpions with honey and frying them on a stick. I totally get it now. I see what they did there.

The good news is that our dear friend “Uncle Carl,” as we will call him, aka Mr. Antony’s Friend, has left me alone since that night. Last week when I came back, he was all up in my grill. This week he has significantly backed the hell off, which is great. Like, yeah, I heard your complaint, responded accordingly, then took your little “joke” with my head held up high and didn’t let you intimidate me with your wanksta shit. Bitch, you can’t fuck with me. I’m an American. I have American friends and allies. You don’t get to mess with me anymore.

Yeah, you can tell yer man (as they say in Ireland, apparently) that he can complain directly to my face if he’s really unhappy. We’ll see if his complaint is valid. I don’t think it is. After all, I was 100% honest with him up-front about who and what I am, and he chose to lie directly to my face. Why would I want to do anything nice for him?

So what if he was a good kisser? So what if he probably looks really good in a cozy sweater on a rainy day? So what if he made me feel the same as eating a bowl of hot beef stew?

In hindsight, his personality was not great! He was definitely a jerk to me all night. He was all up in my beeswax, treating me with so much suspicion and asking me endless questions. He didn’t laugh at any of my jokes. He kept scoffing at me and walking away. I had absolutely no inkling that he was just going to come outside and march around the corner and just take me into his arms like… wow.

Anyway, yeah, he’s a jerk. Anyway, we have a whole island full of hot Irish beefcakes to search for someone more worthy of our poetry. Not some low-down, lying, cheating, dirty dog. He’s a lying liar who tells lies and he deserves whatever karma he gets from acting in such a rakish manner. The end.

Glad we put that story to bed. Here I thought the new season of Bridgerton would be more exciting, but honestly the first episode put me to sleep. I need to just book a one-way ticket to Ireland and live my best Hallmark Channel Original Movie life. Lads for days. Grand. Just grand. I’ll be churning out the endless holiday schmaltz for decades.

Okay, I need to stop thinking about all of this and focus on my quest for actual real things… like a career change and a significantly investment in real estate.

Finding love? Impossible. Landing on Boardwalk-Park Place and building glamorous 5-star Art Deco-style hotels on top? Much more realistic. That’s always been my winning strategy at the game of Monopoly we call life. Now, if only I had a little Scottish terrier to accompany me on my journey…

Off we go. Much to do today…

BLOG: The Headache

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Saturday morning.

Here we are at the coffee stand after whatever that experience was last night. It was strange, but it is Thailand. What is the point of being here if you do not go out to a full moon party made up of old expat men and hallucinate from drinking the kratom tea?

Now we can check that experience off our bucket list, I suppose. I’m glad I ran all the way home just to vomit in the toilet and then imagine myself entrapped in a giant honeycomb-shaped trap made up entirely of golden goo?

Of all the hallucinations I’ve had while taking various drugs in the last year, that one would probably be ranked at the top for most pleasant experiences. I guess he decided to go for the Gold after all. Well done, man. Well done.

I did run into my Old Irish Uncle last night. I showed him my family tree. He was very happy to hear that he inspired me to go digging for my family. Then he suggested I just fly to Ireland direct. I agree with him on that one.

I asked him if he knew how my dear friend Hermes is doing. He said, “Oh, well, you know how he is.”

“Yes,” I said, “I do know. He is always so busy taking care of everyone else that he takes no time to take care of himself. I always say to him, ‘Hermes, you need to chill out, do some yoga, and eat some butter cookies.’ But he does not listen to me.”

My Uncle looked at me increduously and let out a hearty laugh.

“That is sooooo NOT who he is.”

“Well, maybe it should be.”

He laughed at me again.

As per usual, he asked me if I was “all loved up,” which is apparently Irish for, “Have you gotten laid lately?” I explained that no, I have not been with anyone since my mysterious Irish Guy, aka the Hot Beef Stew.

This is the same man, who, as we all recall, lectured me about “not acting like such a slut” while putting his shorts back home to go see his girlfriend or wife or whatever she is. Sounds like you’re the slutty one here, Mr. Antony.

And so, dear reader, I have not been out “acting like a slut,” mostly because I’m tired of dealing with rakes and scoundrels such as this dirty dog over here. He ruined all of the fun for me.

I did not say any of that to my Uncle, but I did feel it in my heart and soul as I jokingly said, “Oh Uncle, you were right about that handsome Irishmen. I can’t forget that magical night we had. I am a changed woman since. He really lived up to all the hype.”

He gave me an approving nod and said quite seriously, “Ireland better watch out!”

Damn straight.

“It’s good to see you acting more like a Lady,” he said. “Hong Kong has been good to you. Off with you now, then. That’s enough lessons for today. Remember what I taught you: always stand up for yourself, and keep that fire alive inside.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope you find your family.”

“Thank you.”

We went back inside, where the mood towards me was chilly, at best. It was fun just to watch them react around me. Mr. Antony’s Friend is definitely making himself obnoxious. He follows me everywhere. He is all up in my beeswax.

Like, what is there to overhear, sir? My list of the Top 10 Best Expat-Owned Restaurants in Hong Kong? My subscription to ClassPass? My difficult search to find a new apartment that isn’t a tiny, dark, cramped, little box?

It’s flattering, to be sure. I can’t even imagine what this Krewe must get up to if they are circling around me like sharks, waiting for the best moment to strike. I’m sure it’s something well beyond my wildest imagination. It would probably be something that only happens in the movies…

This guy absolutely hates me. I don’t even know why! I didn’t even write about him until now. Sorry, I got dickmatized by your man’s lucky charms over here. What I can say? They’re magically delicious?

Honestly, I wasn’t expecting this either. I expected him to just fade away like they always do. But not this one. This one oh-so-helpfully pulled out a map of Ireland and sent me off on a wild adventure through Hallmark Channel Original Hallucination Land.

It’s funny to watch Mr. Antony’s Friend react to me. He’s so, so, so serious. The only person I’ve met who was more serious was Mr. Antony. It took forever to get him to crack a smile. He didn’t laugh at any of my jokes. He’s definitely a control freak. I could tell by the way he raised his eyebrow when I suggested he schedule in some sexy time with me.

I guess I don’t know what they are all so serious about. I am a reasonable person. My silence can be bought. You just need to provide me with the financial compensation I require to be able to afford not to move forward with this book. It really is quite simple. You just have to put an offer on the table.

Anyway, we’re not here to negotiate. We’re here to go to the spa, which I already did yesterday. It was quite lovely. I did the sauna, scrub, aromatherapy, hot stone, and Thai massage. Feelin’ brand new AF.

Now I need to get my nails done. I can get rid of these obnoxious sparkly green extensions and get sparkly gold and Lucky Red for Chinese New Year instead.

Life in Bangkok must be pretty boring if this is what gets their feathers all in a ruffle. Well, it’s all very exciting to me, a person who has been living in the middle of nowhere for way too long. It’s quite like the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars. I love it. Just Grand.

Well, it’s all in good fun, lads. Just chill out. Relax. You’re in Thailand. Start acting like it!

I knew from the moment I met this man that he was going to give me a massive headache. Now, here I am, trying to enjoy my lovely vacation to beautiful Thailand, and all I can do is sit here in agony with this massive fucking headache…