Tag: the Island of Lost Guys

BLOG: Rooftop Rumble

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Here we are. Saturday morning. Up on my rooftop, which is unusual for me. I had to come here to clean up the mess I made last night, so I decided to stay for a coffee, a smoke, and a blog.

Somehow still fully intact after I ran into Hot Neighbor Guy on the roof last night. He had already been out, so he was very drunk, and very chatty, and very friendly. He wanted to show me the trailer for the new movie he’s in that just came out yesterday. Turns out he’s an Actor AND Athlete, and that’s why he’s such a sexy beefcake!

Dear god, help us all.

Not what I expected, tbh. I thought he was some kind of day-trader or something and that’s why he keeps such strange hours. Wrong. As he said to me last night, “Just because I’m from Hong Kong doesn’t mean I work in Finance. Not everyone here is born with a pile of money in their hands and an investment account automatically set up for them.”

Oh yeah, just like how not everyone in the UAE owns a private jet, right?

LOL.

He told me he gets nervous around me because I’m a writer. He said, “I’m always careful about what I say around you because I know you’re going to go write everything I say down for later. Every time I walk away from you think I think to myself that I’ve said too much or said the wrong thing and I wonder how I’m going to look on the page.”

Hmm… he’s good. He must have some sort of prior experience with this. Oh really, an Actor is concerned about how his character will appear on the page? You don’t say.

I said, “Yes, I have written about you. I wrote ‘Dear Diary, My neighbor is sooooooooo hot! He is such a sexy beefcake! He has the cutest little British accent. I have such a big fat crush on him!’”

He just laughed at me and said, “You didn’t really write that!”

Oh, but I did.

Then he told me that I’m cool and he likes me, but I need to chill out because I’m too angry and high-strung all the time. He suggested I go to a rave-themed junk boat party to level myself out. LOL, okay.

Uh, sure, yeah, I’d love to pay $1000 HKD (~$128 USD) to go drink and do drugs with strangers in a place I can’t escape from for at least seven hours. That sounds like so much fun. I’m sure that would totally chill me out and not be a potentially traumatic event that could go horribly, horribly wrong, especially with my mental health history.

…

Okay, I’ll think about it, but I’m taking this guy with me. I’m not getting on any boats or going to any parties alone. I said as much to him and he said, “Okay, I know a good bar around the corner. My buddy is the manager there. I’ll take you to the neighborhood spot and introduce you to some people.”

He continued his brutally honest monologue full of hot takes, delivering the bad news to me with extreme levels of politeness, as only a British person can:

“You need to be more direct and ask for what you want. You can’t just stomp around screaming and passive-aggressively demanding things. I heard you ranting about me one time and I thought to myself, ‘Why didn’t you just come knock on the door and politely introduce yourself? I would have helped you out. I’m a friendly guy.’ But you didn’t do that. It was so strange. What is wrong with you? Were you always like this? Usually Americans are much nicer and more straightforward than this.”

Siiiiiiiiiigh.

I have forgotten how to communicate in a polite, direct manner. I definitely need a British person to teach me how to do that again. I think the snappy, hostile, passive-aggressive, indirectness of South Dakota has rubbed off on me too much. My family also does not communicate directly. Nobody in my life communicates directly. If I communicate directly to people, they usually shut down or stop communication or run away. Clearly I need a new tactic.

He continued on: “What are you even doing here anyway? You can literally do anything you want to do here. Anything in the world. Your view is so limited. You need to get out and be around more people. I don’t think you know what Hong Kong is really like.”

Okay, teach me your ways, Master Yoda. Let’s pre-game at your friend’s place and hop on this junk boat. Show me The Real Hong Kong!

He imparted me with some advice for job hunting that I had never thought of before. Then he reminded me to knock on his door and ask him politely for whatever I need and he will do his best to assist me. He followed this up by going down to his apartment and bringing me back a little stuffed animal he won at a fair or got out of a vending machine or something.

I know what you’re thinking : does this guy have a girlfriend?

Well… first he referred to her as “the missus.” Then he said she’s “not his girlfriend, just a girl he’s seeing.” LOL, okay. Then he explained that he doesn’t want to bring her over here because he doesn’t want her to see how shitty his apartment is.

Uh huh… We’ve all heard this shit before. A likely tale. One minute, he’s saying she’s not his girlfriend, the next minute you find out they’re married and have a baby together. How many times has this happened to me now? I’ve lost count.

Anyway, it’s good I ran into him. We were hanging out for quite awhile. He definitely cheered me up. His energy was much brighter and happier than usual.

Truth be told, I was feeling pretty down last night. Very lonely, very depressed. Also still stewing over The Russian, which is not good. I’m just replaying the highlight reel of moments where I went wrong so I don’t fall for that same shit next time.

Seriously, that Russian guy just needs to call the number in the executive escort ad at the back of the in-flight magazine and leave normal everyday women like me alone. Ridiculous. Pretty sure at a place like the Mandarin Oriental, you can just call ahead and they’ll arrange it for you. They’ll have a whole line of girls lined up waiting for you when you arrive! Why do you have to leave the hotel and go out in public and bother women like me, who are busy trying to write articles about real, serious things like Art Basel? You can’t just pick me up and carry me out of the bar and hold me hostage at a luxury hotel for two days! You have to actually pay someone for that service! So pay someone for that fucking service! You know why you’re paying them for that service? So that they will LEAVE! So they will be discreet and disappear once you’re gone. Not me. I’m not going to leave and disappear just like that! You don’t get off that easily! I’m gonna be a pain in your ass! And screw you for even thinking for one second that it’s even remotely acceptable for you to treat a Lady in this undignified manner!

So annoying!

I’ve had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!

“You should forget about that Russian Guy,” my neighbor said. “You don’t want to get involved with him, trust me. Nothing good comes from dealing with the Russians.”

SO. TRUE! That’s why I called the story “Sleeping with the Enemy.”

Anyway, what was I talking about again? Oh yes, my Island of Lost Guys. What a truly ridiculous place this is.

It’s okay. Now I have a leading actor to cast for the role of Andrew when the time comes. I’m sure the real person Andrew is based on will be thrilled to see himself played by a hot sexy beefcake imitating a slightly-off Minnesota accent. Not sure he can pull off the red plaid flannel shirt and beanie cap as well, tbh…

And that’s the story of how I befriended my neighbor. Chill, platonic vibes, for certain. Show me the Island, friend! Take me to a real party! Introduce me to some real people. Teach me how to be properly Britishly snobby instead of messy emotional trainwreck! Let’s go!

For now, I need to go get brunch. I need brunch friends. Bottomless mimosa and avocado toast friends. Girl talk and LOL friends. There’s only so many times one can watch Sex and the City repeats before they think to themselves, “I want that.”

I definitely need a Bloody Mary and avocado toast today. Ughh…

BLOG: Shark Fin Soup

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Friday. At the coffee shop. It’s raining today. It rained all last night. The construction was still going on outside until about 2am when the rain started, so the very loud sounds of the drilling were replaced by impossibly loud, extremely terrifying thunder claps. Needless to say, I did not get a lot of sleep last night.

Instead I stayed up late into the night vision boarding and life planning. I was looking at everything I was doing this time last year before Hong Kong. So much hope for the future, lol. Looking back now, I can see why I immediately fell into a deep depression when that first TEFL job went off the rails. Mistake! It wasn’t my fault. This company has a terrible reputation here in Hong Kong!

Still, most people I’ve met out here are better about jumping back fast. It took me more time than I thought it would to jump back. Then again, I was carrying a lot with me when I came here. Like I’ve said, it took me six months just to feel safe in the fact that I don’t have to go back to SD. There was also the breakup, all of the unprocessed feelings about my dad’s death, etc etc etc. I was in pretty rough shape.

Luckily for me, Bali and Thailand’s expertise is nursing sick water buffalo like me back to health, so here I am now. Back in Hong Kong. Recovering after a mysterious set of injuries appeared after I blacked out at the Sevens. Grand.

The good news is that I did get another ping from a source regarding the shadiness of one of those bars, so I’m not wrong to be concerned there might be more to the story. Maybe I was actually followed and attacked? It’s not out of the realm of possibility. I guess I would rather think I fell down the stairs because it’s a more pleasant version of reality…

Anyway, going over my old Pinterest boards always kicks my ass back into gear. I had a plan once. I had motivation. I had goals and dreams and a notebook full of financial worksheets and fancy charts. All of my academic dreams are well within my reach. Ireland is within my reach. The whole world is within my reach. I just have to work for it.

Let’s just channel The Russian’s energy here for a second, just to help me be less messy for five seconds. This is a person who is very educated, has traveled extensively, and started his own business. This is basically just the male version of the person I would like to be. It’s a good thing I fucked him, because now I have his energy inside me and I can be more like that.

It’s like how some Chinese people snort ground up rhino horns or eat shark fin soup or whatever. They do it because they think they’re absorbing the power of that animal. This is my new strategy with men: absorb the power of the animal, which in this case is a scorpion. So just more of the same, but manlier, lol.

That’s actually not limited to the Chinese at all. Wasn’t there an English king who ate a lion’s heart because he thought it would make him more powerful in the Crusades or something? Yeah, Richard the Lionheart. From Robin Hood. I think? Somebody fact check that for me later. I’m in the middle of a flow and now I’m moving on to the part about West African War Lords in eating children’s hearts and snorting gunpowder or whatever.

Hmm… I think I’m starting to figure out why men are so afraid of women, lol.

Anyway, that was a neurodivergent side quest into history. Side bar over. What was I talking about again? Absorbing Finance Bro energy to make myself stronger and more powerful? Yeah, that sounds about right. Somehow this has something to do with making vision boards on Pinterest. I have no idea, lol. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Or maybe I just haven’t finished my coffee yet.

I think my goal for the day was to re-do my resume for the billionth time, split it into multiple versions, and start sending it out, again. I was using a local job board, but I have gotten nothing back from it, so I’m switching to a different tactic. Be open. Embrace the chaos. Get that passport stamped. Worry less, travel more. See the world! Save money! Go back to school! Write about it all later!

Hmm.

Too bad The Russian ghosted me. I’m sure he would really appreciate me comparing his dick to illegally-poached ivory products and shark fin soup. I can imagine him doubled over laughing hysterically on the red leather couch right now.

Alas.

I just have to remember: I am not helpless. I am awesome! I am empowered! I’ve made it this far, and by this far, I mean traveling to a dozen countries in two years, attending two yoga teacher training courses in India and Bali, surviving life in Hong Kong after a failed TEFL job, finding my inspiration to write again while briefly living in Bangkok, and adding more characters to my Island of Lost Guys along the way.

I’d say I’m doing pretty well for someone who was intentionally pushed into a mental breakdown after her father died by her incredibly sick-minded co-workers from Starbucks for entertainment. That was three years ago! Wow! And where are those jerks now? Well, one of them definitely went to jail for assault, so there you have it!

Thank god I escaped that place. I hated South Dakota so much. There are no words. I don’t know what’s wrong with those people. They choose conflict and drama every time. Now that I’m far away from it and I don’t have to deal with it anymore or be an active target, I can see how wrong it really was. Sick, sick, sick people. Just sick, twisted, and evil.

Okay. Forget all of that. It’s hard. I still try to drown it out every day. It still affects my confidence. I still have flashbacks about the days I was constantly being attacked online, at work, around town, by my family, by my exes. It went on for years and years and years and years. It’s not easy to forget. I just have to keep adding new memories, new languages, new travels, new stories, new media, new everything to my brain to replace it all.

It is like Kim Kardashian says. “You just need to do so many photoshoots. The good pictures will replace all the bad pictures and soon everyone will forget the bad pictures altogether.”

I can’t remember if she said that in the show or if she said it to me in a dream. That happens sometimes. I have dreams about her coming to me and giving me life advice. Kim K and Paris Hilton. It’s a whole thing. Judge me all you want. I don’t care. I’m willing to take the L on this one. I shamelessly Keep Up and I have no regrets about it.

Okay, I had a mission today. That mission is to get up off my ass and work. Try to find a way to keep the past from haunting me forever. Move forward. Find a new job. Live a new life. Save money. Go back to school. The whole jam.

Motivated AF!

The Chinese guy sitting next to me at the cafe just looked at the bottom of his mug and read his foam the same way one would read tea leaves. How fun! I’m going to try that now. Let’s see what comes up…

Ohhhhhh I definitely got a heart! And a snake. So love is coming, but there will be obstacles along the way. No worries. That’s why I’ve got not one, but two statues of Ganesha, as well as a giant rainbow tapestry depicting him. Obstacles? No problem! We’ll be cruising on through like we’re on a TukTuk ride through New Delhi at rush hour!

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: To Market, To Market

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Saturday. At the coffee shop.

The last few days haven’t been great, to be honest. I was feeling pretty low after what happened in the Mid-Levels earlier this week. Who wouldn’t be, right?

You get on a plane, you fly to the other side of the world expecting to live your dream life, and then it all keeps going hilariously wrong instead. Good thing I’m a writer, or I would be crying to my family and begging them to let me come home. I’m not about that life. I will survive.

Instead I made a decision to be pro-active and not cave into the inevitable bed rot. I spent the whole of yesterday deep cleaning my apartment. Just dropped off another load of laundry at the Chinese Laundry Service on the corner so everything will be clean. Made some spicy noodles, drank some tea, ate some snacks. Slept in my freshly-laundered sheets and blankets. Definitely feeling somewhat better about life today.

I know it’s okay because the song on the delivery’s guy street speaker is Linger by the Cranberries. LOL. It’s… a long story, LOL. This is actually a South Dakota moment, not an Irish moment. It’s a “I’m finally at peace with my book about Bloody Mary’s Bar” moment. We have waited many years for this. Let’s soak it up while it lasts.

Anyway, back to the present. We don’t live that sad little small town life anymore. We live the Big SEA life, which is much more exciting. I get to do things like go to yoga school in Bali and spend the night in Thai airport jail and go on dates to the Mandarin Oriental with crazy hot Russian guys and receive late invitations to the fabulous Emerald Ball in Bangkok.

As for the Bloody Mary’s Krewe? Well, I guess they’ll always have the oh-so-fond memory of Mad Dog and I smoking pot on the back patio while Sam the bar owner yells at us over whatever he’s in a bad mood about that day.

Hahahaha!

Okay, but for real, back to the present.

What is my plan for the day? Well, it’s market day, which means grocery shopping! Yay!

Get this: So I kept seeing memes about Hong Kong neighborhoods, and apparently my neighborhood is the Frenchiest neighborhood in HK. I did not know this. I kinda knew because I hear people on the street speaking French just as much as I hear English and Cantonese. I’ve seen some French spots around. I just didn’t realize my neighborhood was “The Spot” until last night when I typed in the word “French” into Google maps and my neighborhood lit up like the Fourth of July.

I discovered a new imported goods shop that deals exclusively in French products, including cheese, deli meats, and bakery items. Ummm, yes please!

Screw the bougie grocery store in the Mid-Levels! On top of everything else ridiculous that happened to me there, they also had the nerve to sell me not one, but two packages of moldy, rotten cheese, both of which were extremely overpriced. We are officially done with them forever. That is definitely a sign from the universe saying, “Stay away from the place! It’s no good for you!”

So today I’m going to check out the French shop instead. I’m very excited about it. In addition to fancy ramen noodles, I survive almost exclusively off of “snack trays” that usually incorporate a variety of fruit, cheese, nuts, and crackers. I checked out the prices online and the deals on some of my preferred items are much better than at the other Western grocery stores. I’ve tried three of them now and they are okay, just overpriced. I still prefer to buy some things at the Chinese shops, like fresh fruit,large packages of water, and household goods. But there are certain things that only the Western grocery stores have (such as the deli and bakery sections), and the quality is vastly different.

Otherwise, I have decided to make peace with the rats who have recently moved into the rooftop garden. They came with the change of the season. They did not used to be there. Now every night I go up there for a cigarette and I see them lurkin’ in the shadows, watching my every move, creeping around so they can grab some rice out of the communal food bowl the building owners leave out every day for the birds.

At first, I was freaked out. It’s not that I am afraid of rats, it’s just that I’ve never forgotten about the time they wiped out 2/3rds of Europe’s population with the Black Plague. I also haven’t forgotten my encounters with the GIANT rats of New Orleans (locally known as “Quarter Cats” because they are so well-fed), nor my encounters with the New York City rats, who are aggressive enough to run straight at you in an effort to try to scare you enough to drop your pizza on the ground. Luckily, Hong Kong rats are neither scarily large, nor scarily aggressive. It seems like they prefer to sneak around unnoticed and hide in plain sight.

Last night I was out there smoking and I caught one of the rats watching me from the safety of one of the plants. It was actually kind of cute. I realized it was more afraid of me than I am of it, and we should be okay as long as we keep a safe distance of six feet of space from each other at all times.

As I made peace with the rooftop rats, I stood up to go back inside. I could smell a very familiar scent coming from the entry way, signaling to me that my cute neighbor was there. So I knew he was there, and I expected to see him standing there, and he still scared the shit out of me anyway! I swear to you, he did it on purpose!

It used to be that he and I would startle each other by accident, but now I think he is doing it intentionally for a laugh. I mean… it was kind of funny. I literally knew he was there and he still got me! Like, bro, why didn’t you just come out into the garden and say hello like you usually do?

I realized then… I gotta watch out more for this guy than I do for the rats. He’s the one that’s gonna get me when I least expect it. Not that I would really mind if he randomly backed me into the elevator and started making out with me… he is a sexy beefcake, after all! And he’s got the sexy British-Hong Konger accent.

Last night he was making fun of the way I say “laundry.” Prior to this jump scare incident, I ran into him in the hallway and told him I was on my way to pick up my laundry. He laughed as he walked away and kept repeating “LAN-dree, LAN-dree” with like some weird Southern drawl on the end of it. Like maybe he was trying to do a Texas accent or something. He just thought it was the funniest thing how I said “laundry.”

I don’t get it, but okay. And then we get the jump-scare a couple hours later. Okay, okay, let’s just makeout on the rooftop already and get it out of your system. Then you can pull a Russian guy and just go back to your real life while pretending literally none of it ever happened.

He also came out of a different apartment than the one I’ve seen him coming out of before. Did he switch apartments? Is that why I keep seeing that random Chinese girl walk into the one that I thought was his? Does this Airbnb host just play musical chairs with their studios and keep moving us around at their convenience? What is happening over here?

Anyway, I was annoyed with him because I actually wanted to ask him a legitimate question and I forgot. I want to ask him what he knows about The Wolf and The Sketchy Place. Surely he has some information I need. I will make sure I remember to ask next time he jumps out of the stairwell and scares the crap out of me.

Well, that’s about all I have to say for now. Off to the market. Have a good day!

BLOG: Chinese Laundry Day

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Friday?!

I am losing days left and right over here. What is even happening to me right now? I think it’s called “getting older.”

Yesterday I was not feeling well at all. I couldn’t even watch TV. I mostly slept all day long. I’ve been sleeping a lot more since I came to Asia. I was feeling guilty about it at first, but then I learned that my parasympathetic nervous system is in recovery after a long period of difficulty. I let it go. Sometimes I just need the extra sleep.

I resolved to make up for it today by getting all of my chores done. I started by taking out the trash and dropping off all of my towels and bedding at the Chinese laundry around the corner.

I am quite friendly with my laundry lady now. It’s kind of strange to me how freaked out I was about the idea of someone else doing my laundry. It used to be a very specific self-care ritual for me. Now I just send it off with a smile, knowing I can trust my stuff with this lady.

Now it’s just dishes and wiping down countertops and sweeping the floor and squeegee’ing out the bathroom. Gotta drop off more laundry tomorrow. Boring, boring, boring. How very tradwife of me, lol.

JK, of course. We all know I’m not the type who is going to be making homemade jams and jellies from scratch. I will only get married if household staff is part of the deal. I’ve seen things in Hong Kong I can’t unsee. The only way I’m marrying a man is if he comes with a multi-million dollar property and a housekeeper.

Put that shit in your pre-nup: I’m not doing any cleaning whatsoever.

Some cooking is okay. Pet care is definitely okay. You might just catch me out here wildin’, doing my own laundry on the housekeeper’s day off. Let her go play cards with her friends. I’ll make myself a giant salad and watch KUWTK all day.

Standards and expectations from men are very high these days. We can’t just settle for a 2.5 star rated date with some rando we met at the bar. We need to start taking the marriage market seriously. We need to be making Bridgerton levels of deals over here. Forget love; this is business!

What? Don’t look at me like that. These guys are out here saying shit like, “I believe women belong in the home.” Okay, well, I love staying at home and writing all day. Show me the home! I want a very nice home that I can decorate and renovate and occupy at all times. I definitely belong at home.

Soooo… Where is it? Where is my house?

Yeah, exactly, that’s what I thought. All words, no action, as per usual.

As I’ve said before, all of this “Big Strong Alpha Male” talk is just talk. It’s their usual male bullshit. Men are just full of it all the time. They can’t be trusted. They just say things and hurt people and use women and they don’t care about how it affects anyone else. So, whatever. I have simply chosen to rise to the occasion and just get up in their faces and be aggressive about it.

It is what it is.

The baristas just informed me that the crazy Aussie guy is back. They told him not to come back here again. They’ve told him this several times now. They told me is quite well-known to be a trouble -maker in Wan Chai. Yikes. We all know what that means!

So now I am on the lookout for him. I hope he doesn’t come back.

All the more motivation to finish up my chores. I need to go to the market as well. I’m out of bottled water. JFC, the amount of money I have spent on bottled water since I got to Asia is absurd. It’s a straight-up scam. I don’t understand why we can’t just have clean water?

I hate the Hong Kong water. It’s so harsh. I am not kidding when I say my skin is so messed up from the water here. I used to love taking long, hot showers and now it’s like torture for me. I have the worst eczema. I had to change from my beloved Bath & Body Works products to specialty local brands of soap and lotion. This lotion I am using is straight-up made for medical purposes.

This is why I’m mad about not being able to use the bathtub at the Mandarin Oriental. The hotel literally gives you a variety of special products to use in the bathtub that help ease skin irritation issues. Literally, the first thing I did when I got up to his room was look at the bath and go over all of the products that came with the bath. And then I don’t even get to use them?! Are you kidding me?! What is that?!

2.5 star review. I should just knock it down to 2. I feel like that .5 is being generous. That whole date really was a massive waste of my time. I feel like he just used me as a free sex worker and then just threw me away. That’s so not cool, bro. Like, what a waste of fucking time. Never again.

I think it annoys me extra because it is someone’s actual job to entertain him in this manner, yet he felt entitled to just take it from a random person for free. Not cool. And then he says I can’t write about him? Like, bro, that is my ACTUAL job. You don’t get to take that away from me. That’s literally the one thing I actually get out of this. You can choose which parts you want me to leave out, but you don’t get to opt out altogether. If you didn’t want to get involved, you shouldn’t have approached me at the bar and interrupted me while I was writing. That’s on you.

Yeah, I’m definitely over the whole one night stand thing. It was fun while it lasted, but I’m on a time crunch here. I gotta start taking this seriously. This is the last season of The Island of Lost Guys. It’s cancelled. No more.

Just Say No, Betsey. Boundaries. Men are like drugs. They’re fun in the moment, but the comedown is terrible and the withdrawal is even worse. Just Say No. Just Say No!

Speaking of Just Say No, my bartender friends want to fix me up with a guy tonight. I am so not into it. I don’t want to go. I want to stay home in my clean studio and watch Netflix and snuggle up in my freshly-laundered bedding without any men there to bother me.

Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. No men, no regrets.

And she lived happily ever after.

The End.

BLOG: The 2.5 Star Review

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Earlier today, I said I had nothing else to say about my date with The Russian. As my day unfolded, however, I realized that, yes, actually, I did have something else to say.

That something is that I have thought it over and decided I am giving this date a 2.5 star review. This is on a scale of 5, of course. I reasoned to myself, “He is never going to read this, but if he does, I should put it in clear-cut, direct terms he understands.”

If I was rating his dating technique the same way I would rate his business, I would give it a solid 2.5/5 stars. Reasons why:

  1. He rushed me into things too fast. He overwhelmed me with his charisma and refused to give me the time and space I needed to properly consider his offer. He also wasted valuable time arguing with me about topics we will never agree on. I am who I am, bro. You are not going to change me.
  2. He overpromised. The offer that HE put on the table was “Pretty Woman Fantasy.” It included dinner, drinks, a trip to the crazy hilarious bar, a soak in the giant tub, room service, a trip to the spa, and a shopping spree at the mall.
  3. He underdelivered significantly. None of these things manifested, at all. We just got drunk and fucked with a fancy background. That’s bullshit. I realize this is supposed to be a one-time exchange, but I don’t feel like I personally got very much out of this deal. My time is valuable. I am an investment. If you insist on making this a transactional exchange, you should hold up your end of the transaction. He did not uphold his end of the transaction.

In addition, I knocked off an extra half star because of the weird lecture he gave me at the end about my fertility. It’s literally none of your business, dude. Maybe I’ll start thinking about it once one of you ridiculous men actually sticks around for longer than a day and a half. Until then, I’m not concerned about it at all.

Overall, it was very disappointing. I don’t think I would work with this individual again. He would basically have to change his entire approach to this whole dating business, which I strongly feel he is unlikely to do.

I’m just looking for something more extraordinary than that. So yeah, this has been great food for thought, but… upon reflection, it just didn’t really do it for me.

Off now. Hope you enjoyed double posts today!

BLOG: I Think We Lost The Plot

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Thursday. Where did the week go? Oh yes, I know. I spent all day yesterday sucked into Netflix while actively avoiding reality. Nothing like a good true crime docu trio to wake you up to all of the different ways life could go wrong.

I’m not really partial to the murders myself. I like the documentaries about cults and cult psychology. I have watched ALL of the cult documentaries. Unemployment Level 100. I am also fascinated by cult psychology because, as an American, I recognize that my country has been taken over by a very dangerous cult.

This particular documentary was about the FLDS in Utah. It is absolutely terrifying to watch as a woman. I have nothing but respect for Dr. Christine Marie. She is definitely one of my new role models. That documentary was harrowing.

Then I watched the one about the pro cyclist who was murdered by the jealous girlfriend of some loser guy. The girlfriend took off to Costa Rica, where she was hiding out at various yoga retreats. That one definitely made me think a lot. I just looked back at some of the people I met in India and Bali and was like, “WTF were they running from?”

Some of them were really strange and off. As I’ve said before, I’m not sure I would go back to Bali again after what I experienced there. Bangkok, yes. Bali, no.

I found people in Bangkok were generally more open about the fact that they are running away from something. Maybe they won’t tell you what it is, but it’s kinda just the general vibe of the expat community in Thailand. It’s like walking into the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars. You know everyone in there has come from somewhere else to do some kind of shady business. It’s just better not to ask too many questions about it.

In Bali, people are presenting themselves to be something they are not, and what that something is generally involves grifting off of people struggling with mental health, grief, spiritual questions, and a lack of meaning/purpose. I definitely saw some cult-adjacent shit while I was there. I also met people who were just… way, way, way off. Like “maybe they should be in the Hotel California and not running a yoga studio in Bali” kinds of off. Ya know what I’m saying?

It did feel validating in that way. I think sometimes I can be sensitive and take other people’s weird behavior super personally when in reality it has nothing to do with me at all. Like, maybe that lady wasn’t mean to me because I’m a bad person who deserves it. Maybe she killed her husband’s affair partner and went on the run and now she’s hiding out in Bali and she’s worried some writer is going to go snooping around and find out the truth.

Maybe.

Or maybe she was just having a bad day. Either way, this isn’t about me. Don’t take it personally. I’m perfectly grand just the way I am.

Right now I am sitting outside the coffee shop, watching people on the street. I just love Hong Kong. I really do. Every day I wake up and think, “Wow, I can’t believe I get to live here. This is the most incredible opportunity of my entire life. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for it every single day.”

I was meditating last night before bed and the spirit of my Irish grandmother showed up to talk to me. She said, “Do you know what the Irish Dream is? Not the American Dream. The Irish Dream. The Irish Dream is for our children to be free to become writers, poets, artists, musicians, filmmakers. It’s to give them the gift of free time so they can create. You don’t have to slave away at the docks or in the factories or give up your education to take care of a dozen children. We did all of this so you can sit outside on the rooftop and write your book and enjoy life in Hong Kong. Stop feeling guilty about it. Enjoy it. We did it all for you.”

Okay, okay, okay. I get it. My sole purpose on this earth is to Create. I must honor my ancestors by finding a way to become a serious, professional writer. Well, we all know the first two steps: money and a room of one’s own. I have that right now, yes, but how to maintain it over time is a problem.

I don’t know. Somehow I keep making it work. Failing upward, as they say. Perhaps a reminder to focus on manifesting simple things like a fabulous apartment that someone else is paying for so I can just sit there and write all day. Hahaha.

I’m not joking. That’s a real thing. It’s called “patronage.” It’s where rich people give you money and a room of your own so you can create art all day. I’ve actually had several patrons in my life, including my father, my uncle, my aunt, and The Publisher. It really is the best way to go. At least, for now.

That’s what I have to manifest: a patron! Ah, yes, so simple. Why did I not think of it before? Patron, patron, patron.

Brilliant.

Haha, aww, the song “I’ll Be Missing You” just came on the street stereo the delivery guy always plays around this time of day. Definitely a message from my ancestors. My dad always does that. Communicate through music, I mean. Sometimes I’ll just be sitting somewhere random and a playlist comes on that only he would make and I just know he’s there.

Oh yeah, they’re definitely there right now. It just switched to “Empire State of Mind.” Big New York City energy coming in right now. It’s a whole thing.

Now I am sitting here thinking about my book/Netflix show, lol. I’ve been going through my manuscript I made in January and I just hate it. The first half is such a slog. I just want to delete it all, speed up the timeline, and just have the first 10 pages/minutes be a montage of my dad’s funeral, getting fired from Starbucks, car breaking down, losing the house, getting a giant check in the mail, and buying a one-way ticket to India. That’s it. Fuck South Dakota. This is the terrible Prequel series no one asked for. Everything since India is like… my actual real life as I have always wanted to live it finally began. That’s the real story here!

I think we’ve kind of lost the plot a little bit here. Yes, I have meaning. I have purpose. I am a writer. It’s my dream to become a professional writer. That is why I am here. I got on that plane to have a crazy adventure and write it all down. Take whatever comes at me along the way. I did that. I’ve done it. I am actively doing it, even when it comes at a cost, like my little adventure up to the Mid-Levels.

So now we have to figure out how to steer the career into professional mode. I have no idea how to do that. I have no talent for business whatsoever. I need an agent/editor type to guide me in the right direction. Someone who has that eye for business in the way that I don’t and all of the connections I need but don’t have. Again, a patron type.

Okay, I feel like I’m back to normal now after my date with the Russian. Wow, what was that? Hmm. Wild. I don’t actually have anything else I want to say about him here. I just wanted him to know… I could have easily ripped you apart, but I didn’t. But I could. So just… know that.

Honestly, couldn’t even tell ya what he does for a living. You could be water boarding me old school Soviet style and I’d be like, “I swear to you, I don’t know! It sounded so boring. I checked out halfway through his explanation and started examining the crystal chandelier and hanging gardens at the Four Seasons. I can list off every plant and flower in the terrarium. Couldn’t tell ya what he does for work. Something with Finance, maybe? I thought he said he owned his own business. I honestly have no idea.”

The world will never know. Furthermore, the world does not care. The world cares about the part where two Scorpios went on a date to a bar that looks like an old-timey opium den/brothel and it was the most on-brand thing ever for both of them. Show us those terrible red leather couches from the 80’s! That’s what the world really wants to see!

Netflix execs will be like, “How is this even relevant to the plot?”

It’s not, it’s just an excuse to film at the Mandarin Oriental in Hong Kong. Since when do we need a plot for sex? Spoiler alert: there is no plot. This is just a random, gratuitous sex scene with no purpose or relevance whatsoever. Since when do you have a problem including that in your shows?!

They’ll be like, “You’re right. Let’s make sure we get a top-notch intimacy coordinator on board with this production.”

IDK, I think that might be too “woke” for the Russian. I can just imagine the look of outrage on his face right now…

Ha ha ha!

I think I’m hilarious.

Off now. To do what, we don’t know. We know we’re not going back to the Mid-Levels anytime soon!

The battle of Hong Kong Island neighborhoods continues. So far I’ve eliminated Causeway Bay (too busy), Wan Chai (too wild), Central (too expensive), Happy Valley (too far), and the Mid-Levels (too bougie). I’m actually quite happy in Sheung Wan. It’s very… French. Close to everything, but easy to escape from the chaos of the city with a quick trip up to my rooftop.

I think I’ll go do that right now, actually. Then I have to clean my apartment because it’s a mess. All of my clothes are piled onto “the chair” instead of hanging in my closet, where they should be. Alas, I am not fancy enough to have a “helper” or live in an upscale “serviced apartment.” I am confined to my tiny little coffin box with the rats and the cockroaches, living off snacks and instant noodles from 7-11.

It is what it is.

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…