Tag: The Russian

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…

BLOG: Call Him Ugly

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Friday.

I literally cannot keep a straight face right now. I cannot. I am in public trying to mean mug and be serious and yet… LMFAO!

I have this hilarious disco song stuck in my head. They use it as a sound clip on the TikTok. I don’t do TikTok because I don’t want to destroy my brain, which is literally what it does to people. Anyway, yeah, the song is that Rasputin jam by Boney M. The lyrics are just… HILARIOUS!

I can’t.

This song was funny before, but now I have an actual person to picture in my mind’s eye when I hear and it’s like… wow, this is surprisingly accurate. Okay! But yeah, I totally get what they’re saying though.

Won’t somebody please do something about this OUTRAGEOUS man?!

Hahahaha!

Those Russians… they are really something, aren’t they?

No, I have not heard from him again, which basically confirms my theory that he was married and lying about it. Whatever! This is what they do! I’m telling you. I’m not going after them on purpose. They show up with no rings on their fingers and then they just lie, lie, lie, and I have to find out the truth later.

Sucks!

Yeah, so maybe stop blaming “the other woman” and tell your husband to keep his dick in his pants. Hold these men accountable, for god’s sake!

When I met him, he asked me if I was going to “cancel” him for being a “big, strong alpha man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it.” No, sir, I will not cancel you for that, but I will cancel you for taking me on a fuck date to the Mandarin Oriental and not letting me soak in that giant tub! That is the real crime against humanity! That bathroom was the same size as my entire studio apartment! And you won’t even let me soak in the tub while you take a nap?!

Now that is truly Outrageous!

Hahahahaha!

I have totally and completely stopped giving a fuck, as you can clearly see.

Happy Passover to All My Relations! Freedom has come! I have been released from the chains of slavery and I have crossed the sea! I no longer have to pretend I care about what men think or want, which is great because I literally don’t.

Screw marriage and family and children and the big McMansion in the suburbs! I am OVER it! I just want my hoes in different Area Codes. As the famous poet Ludacris once said, “I bang cock in Bangkok, Can’t stop, I turn and hit the same spot, think not, I’m the thrilla in Manila, Schlong in Hong Kong, Pimp ‘em like Bishop, Magic, Don Juan.”

Honestly, I liked my Irish guy better. Now that’s the man I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with after one night! Oh, but I did. I love my Hot Beef Stew! Sometimes when I’m sad, I still look at the pictures of him kicking the ball around the field. He was so hot! And yet… so duplicitous!!! So far I would say, he is both the best and worst of them all.

If we are being truly honest though, neither the Russian nor the Irishman were the best in bed. The true winners of that contest were my Latin American friends. In hindsight, I think the Man with a Plan from Panama was probably the best. He really did fix my canal! I would bang him again, but only if he got on a plane and came to see me. I’m not making any effort for men anymore.

I have decided men in their 40’s are fun. I never got any real dating experience with guys close to my age when I was living in SD, mostly because there were none around. If there were, they were soooooooooooo sloppy and ugly and always wearing camo and holding up dead animals in their photos on Tinder. That is sooooo not hot!

So I ended up dating men who were like 20-30 years older than me. There were three of those. Guys in their 50’s… meh. Guys in their 40’s? Okay! They’re hot, they work out, they have money, they want to have fun with their money, they go to the gym, they work out, they have just enough life experience to make it interesting, and… did I mention the part about going to the gym and working out? Yeah, gonna be real… that’s literally all I really care about at this point.

Bring me the six pack! I love beefcakes! Magic Mike me or get the fuck out!

Going younger is… meh. Guys in their 20’s might look hot, but they are SO annoying! Gen-Z is super fucked up. All they do is watch TikTok. Plus, I feel like they want me to be their mommy or their teacher or their babysitter or something. I am not into that!

Plus, they’re always complaining about how broke they are. They expect ME to be their Sugar Mama. I’m just like… no. I am the Sugar Baby here, not you! I worked hard! I suffered so much! I put up with so much bullshit for so many years. I don’t want to listen to you complain. I want to go soak in the gigantic tub! You better get me the giant tub, or we will not be friends.

Anyway, I’m just writing this to let the Russian know that I definitely did NOT fall in love with him. Look at my options! Just look at them! Okay? I already helped raise a child (my sister) and look how she turned out! She’s a spoiled, ungrateful little brat who is dating some creepy predator and acts like it’s normal. She has learned NOTHING from me, and actually continues to vilify me to this day for calling her out on her stupid bullshit.

In addition, I had to stay home and live with my family until literally 10 months ago. I am NOT in a rush to go back to the nightmarish prison of suburban family life. I want to write my blog and live in the big city and fuck hot guys from all over the world and then make a stand-up comedy special about it. So that’s what I’m going to do!

….

I actually am really bitter about the whole bathtub thing. This man promised me a Pretty Woman fantasy and I didn’t even get to go in the tub. That is BULLSHIT and you know it, Carrie!

Outrageous!

I’m not saying I wanted to fuck him in the tub. That’s how you get a UTI. I’m saying I wanted to soak in the tub while he took a nap. Bath time is my favourite self-care ritual. I don’t want some random man in my tub disrupting my private time! That is for me!

There was also no piano sex either, which is disappointing, but also an unrealistic movie fantasy. Can you imagine how uncomfortable it would be to have your ass on the keyboard? Ouch! Plus, I might be a small lady, but I got a big ol’ booty, so I don’t think I would even fit on the keyboard.

This is what happens when you think too much.

Anyway, the point is that a bed is the best location for sex and everything else is unrealistic and uncomfortable.

Honestly, I think I am really missing out by not exploring my bisexuality to the fullest. I should just go bang one of these super hot Thai chicks. I mean a woman, not a ladyboy, which is an important difference! The ladyboys don’t really do it for me, personally. Not my thing. I can’t work with the combination in that manner. I either need like a big hot strong alpha manly man made of muscles, or like a really soft, delicate, pretty lady with clear skin and perfect hair.

The other problem is that Thais do the whole “sick water buffalo” thing. They will get you every time. Somehow. I respect their game, I really do, but I also don’t want to play it. It is what it is. So, yeah, I could have gone for it in Thailand, but I also watched every single Western man in a 100 mile radius walk right into that trap. It was one big “hell nawwww to the naw, naw, naw!”

Anyway, whatever. I don’t chase. I attract. I attract them all, like flies to honey. I will literally just be sitting there staring at my iPad with full-on resting bitch face and these men love it! They love it even more when I am mean to them. I will just start being mean to them all the time.

This is what my Filipina Auntie taught me this week. Her dating advice was literally, “Be mean to men. Tell them they are ugly and that you don’t like them. Remind them constantly that you have a line going out the door and around the corner full of handsome men waiting for you to give them attention. If they give you trouble, you just choose another one. You are too busy all the time to deal with their bullshit.”

Best dating advice ever. I love it. And I’m gonna take her advice, because she’s got some rich old Western guy wrapped around her finger. She says her nickname for him is “My Ugly” and he loves it! Like she tried to change to “Sweetie/Honey/Baby/Darling” and he was like, “No I want you to call me Ugly!”

She said that when she met him, she literally said, “You are so ugly. I don’t like you. Go away. I’m busy working.” After that, he got down on his knees on the floor and was just begging to take her on trips all over the world and buy her gifts and do the whole thing. She made him wait for like six months! Now they are “together” but only when she wants to see him. She was already married once and never wants to do it again. She makes him get on a plane and come see her. She doesn’t have to do shit for him. I respect the fuck out of her game!

She also says to keep all the receipts. She has the receipts. She showed me proof that everything I just told you is true.

Amazing. 14/10, would take this Master Class again.

My name is Betsey Horton, and this is my Villain Origin Story.

The End!

LIST: Top 10 Requirements for Future Dates

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Listen up, fam. It’s Passover.

That means it’s time to make our annual spiritual exodus from ye olde world of slavery out into the desert to go get buck wild for 40 days and 40 nights worshipping golden toilets ballrooms fake reality tv show presidents idols, all while Moses is up on the mountain top doing… who even knows what, honestly?

Our sources claim he was talking to a burning bush, but like, who even knows what that means anymore, amiright? Sounds like a metaphor to me!

Yeah, I got your burning bush right here, fam. And by that, I literally mean my vagina. This is an actual vagina monologue. As The Lonely Island once sang, “This ain’t SeaWorld, this is real as it gets. I’m on a boat, motherfucker, don’t you ever forget!”

And let me tell you, this bush is STILL on fire after the Russians plowed on through several days ago. It was quite the event. And now, this is what *my* burning bush has to say about all of my future dating requirements from here on out:

1. You must be Write-able AF. You can either be a Muse, or be Mused. Your choice.

2. The more ridiculous you are, the better. I LOVE watching a good freak show unfold live. It’s even better if you fully crash out right in front of my eyes. It really gives the story that little extra something special, ya dig?

3. You must GTFO ASAP because I don’t have time or energy for men in general at the ripe old ancient age of 37. I’ve basically gone full Irish Bog Witch at this point. I truly mean it when I say… I don’t give a fuck.

4. I know this is really, really, really hard, but can you at least TRY to be honest? LOL, “try” being the key word here. It’s very hard for most men! You wouldn’t even believe how many married men I meet who honestly think that they are fooling me just by taking off their ring, or creating some fake, elaborate, ultra sympathetic backstory, or whatever. No. Stop. Just… Shut up. Stop talking. I have literally heard all of this before. I can see right through you. Stop wasting my time!

5. You must be a hot, sexy beefcake (all ages welcome). I dated too many uggo sluggos when I was young, so now I only take applications from guys who could realistically be on Magic Mike Live. I prefer men in the 8-10 range, but I’m willing to settle for a Kind 5-7 if you have enough charisma. 5 and below’s can just book a ticket straight to Thailand and invest in a water buffalo. Ain’t nobody got time for that!

6. You must pay for everything, mostly because I already know that everything you’re saying is BS and you’re just going to waste my time. Therefore, it’s best for all of us if you just pay the tab.

7. Be aware that you will eventually run off screaming into the night from fear, and that watching you do so is of great amusement to me. Nothing scarier than a woman with opinions, amiright, lads?!

8. You must be good in bed. We all know you want one thing and one thing only. So, again, please do not waste my time if you’re only going to disappoint me.

9. You must be from a country I have not conquered yet. As of today, I am still in the market for an Aussie, but only if you’re a rugby player and/or can wrestle a full-grown saltwater crocodile into submission.

10. You must laugh at my jokes, or else!

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

This has been yet another episode of “Fuck the Patriarchy” by Betsey Horton, brought to you by our sponsors at the Derek Zoolander Center for Kids Who Can’t Read Good and Who Wanna Learn to do Other Stuff Good Too.

Donate today, and your money could go straight into YET another billionaire-run embezzlement scheme designed to fund war, genocide, and human (and/or animal, plant, rock, fossil, mineral, etc) trafficking and slavery! Because who actually wants to pay anyone for their hard work, amiright? Only suckers and losers! Ha ha ha!

Thank you again for your generous donation today!

Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ!

BLOG: Sex and the SEA-ty

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Wednesday. April 1st. I have officially been living in Asia for ten months now. Crazy.

How am I doing today? Uhh, pretty good, I guess, aside from the ongoing existential crisis I am currently undergoing. At least I have a never-ending rotation of hot international beefcakes going on in my calendar! Cheers to that!

I have become exactly like the men I hate. Well done, me. Well done, indeed. Way to win the battle of the sexes on behalf of feminism and equality and justice for all!

Don’t hate the player, hate the game!

And so we say farewell to our lovely Russian gentleman caller. It was fun! I had a good time. Nothing like a casual encounter between two consenting adults!

Anyway, that story is over, at least for now. Maybe he will pop up in Hong Kong again and invite me to stay with him at a different luxury hotel. Or maybe he will go home and fix his relationship with his ex-wife (never got a clear answer on that situation btw) and I will never see or hear from him ever again. Who knows!

Meanwhile, back in Central, I went out to get dinner last night and write. I passed by the Finance Bro Bar on my way up the escalator. As I crossed the street, I looked inside and saw the same group of men from Friday night all staring directly at me.

I remembered one of them as a very loud, outspoken, Baby Boomer MAusGA. He was mean-mugging me so hard. Everything about his face said, “You better not come back in here.”

I was just like, “Bitch, I don’t want to. Why would I want to watch you snort coke off of a dirty bar toilet when I can lounge around the Mandarin Oriental, casually making fun of the tacky decor with a man who is decidedly not doing cocaine? At least the Russian guy had some class!”

Ridiculous.

I fully plan to avoid that place like the plague. I was going through job postings recently and thought to myself, “I should just get one of these boring corporate jobs and I’ll be taken care of for awhile.”

Then I walked straight into the lion’s den, aka Happy Hour with all the bankers and fin-tech bros. I walked away thinking… “This world is not for me. The money? Yes. The luxury? Yes. The culture of pure degeneracy and total moral decay? No.”

And so I returned to the world I did know: the bars and the men and the stories about it all. And now here we are, with yet another story about meeting a random man in a random bar. I fully admit that it’s getting really boring, but I also don’t know what else to do right now. I am just giving myself some extra kindness and grace this week because… ugh.

Okay, well, new month, new me! I say this all the time, but… yeah. Let’s just keep going. We will figure it all out, somehow!

I don’t know what we are figuring out, but… whatever. Let’s just go with the flow!

BLOG: Oh You Fancy, Huh?

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Tuesday. At the Cantina enjoying the Taco Tuesday Specials.

I know, you’re all dying to know what happened with the Russian Guy. Did I let my curiosity get the better of me? Did I go for the erotic spy thriller after all?

Um, yeah, obviously! Duh, it’s me! You know what I always say! Where there’s a men, there’s a story! Plus, our chemistry was like… phew! Way off the charts! Have you ever seen two scorpions together locked up in their weird little dance? Yeah, it was something like that…

I went to meet him at a neutral location which was neither my neighborhood bar, nor his fancy hotel bar. We went to the Four Seasons instead. Very Swiss, very neutral, very much here for it.

Isn’t that so fun to say?! Hell yeah! We love a man who wants to meet us at Happy Hour at the motherfucking Four Seasons! Talk about a class act! Way to come up in the world, fam. It was fancy as fuck! So here for it!

I admit I struggled for some time with what sort of outfit I should wear on this date. Obviously, one would immediately go for the slinky black dress.

However, this is Hong Kong, and it’s a very small island, and everyone in the expat community knows each other. Needless to say, I was hesitant to walk into a place where expats do business over casual drinks looking like a Bond Girl and/or sex worker. What if someone recognized me? Yikes!

After several costume changes, I settled on something relatively close to my usual everyday wear: Long loose pants, mock neck top, fitted jacket, hot pink tennis shoes, hot pink umbrella, newspaper print bag. All black. Hair slicked back into a bun. Very profesh, like I just came from the office, just like most of the other people who were in that room.

I admit that I was very intimidated by him. Everything about this situation was so far out of my comfort zone. Like, okay, sure, yeah, I have written stories like this before, but that shit was made up! This is real! This is Hong Kong, fam! Sometimes it can be very, very glamorous. It still catches me off-guard, especially because I am not exactly living the “high life” here.

So there I was, on my fancy, classy, glamorous date with The Russian at the Four Seasons, and just like that, I realized I had literally become Carrie Bradshaw. The only difference is that the age gap here is something like 5-7 years, not 20-30. Plus, my Russian is much more handsome and charming and charismatic.

Hahaha.

I’m actually trying to figure out how to write this story because we had a very specific conversation about my stories and characters. He asked me to read him the story I had already written about him. Like right there, directly to his face. Terrifying!

Much to my surprise, he thought it was funny! He was laughing and laughing. He said, “I remember why I liked you so much. You are very funny! You are fun!”

Same, same, somehow, in spite of all the anti-wokeness.

He also said, “You did not tell them the real story.”

“What is the real story?”

“The real story is that I met you at a bar, and found you very attractive, and very fun, and you liked me too, so we left and went to the 7/11 and bought a bottle of wine, and sat on the bench under the tree along the staircase, and had a very lovely time.”

“Yes, I did leave that part out,” I admitted. “I did that on purpose. Sometimes I leave things like that out just so we can keep it private between us. Like sharing the bottle of wine in the park. That was just for us. It is not for them. I have to be Betsey Horton for them. When it is just us alone together, I am just Liz.”

“And will you write about our night together tonight?”

“Only if you give your consent.”

“I do not give my consent.”

“Okay, that is fine. I prefer to keep it private between us too. What do you think I should write about instead?”

He thought about it for a moment and said, “The decor at my hotel bar is absolutely terrible. It’s leftover from the 80’s. This hotel is much nicer. I will stay here next time, I think.”

“How bad could it be? Your hotel is very famous. It’s supposed to be one of the best in the world.”

“Come, I will show you.”

So he did. And yes, he was right. That hotel bar was… wow. Yeah, it was bad. I literally felt like I was in a James Bond movie, and not one of the good ones. Definitely one of the weird ones from the 80’s with Roger Moore.

This room was like… dark red velvet walls and carpets with red leather furniture that is way too close to the ground and way too comfortable for lounging. Like, seriously, this is supposed to be a fancy five-star hotel and it looks like a brothel from the 80’s. Right down to the sleezy businessmen hanging out with sex workers dressed up like little school girls.

His actual room was only slightly better, but the view was terrible. His window was looking right out at an office building. Not exactly the gorgeous harbor view promised by their official Instagram account. However, there was indeed a gigantic tub that I did recognize from Instagram. I desperately wanted to use it, but did not get the chance to for obvious reasons.

Those reasons being that I was busy with him doing what we were doing. It is what it is. As I departed the next morning, my last words to him were, “My only regret about this night is that I did not get to soak in that giant bathtub.”

🙁 🙁 🙁

And then I did my very well-planned out walk of shame through the Central business district of Hong Kong at lunch hour. I packed an overnight bag so I could freshen up in the morning. Plus, it’s a nice hotel, so they have all the extra toilettries you need available on-hand.

Then I slept all day and now I am here, writing down the story. Well, the parts that we mutually agreed upon that were okay for me to write about…

Worry not, fam. I taught him a lesson in the end about Wokeness. I said, “Giving consent is part of woke culture. That is why I am asking you now for your consent.”

He took his time, he thought about it, and now you are reading the version of this story that he consented to. Finally, a man who knows exactly what he wants and isn’t afraid to communicate it! Also, I’m pretty sure he was afraid I was going to eat him alive by the end. You know how us female arachnids do and be…

Did he teach me a lesson? Oh yes, of course he did. He asked me, “There must be a group of people you are racist towards?”

I just smiled at him and said, “Yes. Russians.”

“But Russian is not a race, it’s just a place!”

“Exactly! Look, see how woke you are?”

He just laughed and laughed and laughed…

The End!

BLOG: Sleeping with the Enemy

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Today is Monday.

Today I accepted my offer to attend summer school in Galway, because I was on a deadline and had to choose fast. Am I still a little unsure? Yeah, but really, like, no.

My heart says yes. My brain says yes. My bank account says… “Hey gurl, what is you doing? Is your plan to find a pot of gold at the end of one of those rainbows? Cause I’ve got some bad news… you’re gonna need one.”

I’m definitely feeling the conflict right now. I’m just… yeah. Anyway, I can’t think about that right now. I have a new and interesting story to tell from last night and I need to get it out of me right now before I do something really fucking dumb.

So yesterday I went to Art Basel with my friend. It was pretty cool. I always love a good art show. Really enjoyed the themes of the natural world, particularly the seascapes. Lots of focus on animals. Lots of combinations of various old artistic traditions from around Asia combined with newer, more modern styles. I had a great time! Definitely way overpriced in my opinion, but the art was worth it.

While I was there, I drank more coffee than I usually do during the day. Unlike alcohol, I have very strict rules around my daily coffee consumption. Rules I am breaking right now by getting a mocha at 2:30pm. Yesterday I drank three coffees, so needless to say I was WIDE AWAKE and I could not go to sleep. I decided to go around the corner to my fav bar and visit with my favourite bartenders.

I had literally just ordered a glass of wine and barely taken a sip when in walked this very tall, very good-looking man wearing a very styling blue leather jacket. He took one look at me, smiled to himself like he had found the buried treasure he’d been seeking all day, and took a seat right next to me.

Naturally, I was in no mood to entertain a man on this occasion. He didn’t give a fuck. He ordered the same drink I was having and promptly just went for it. Full throttle.

It didn’t take me very long to parse that he is a Scorpio male. Mmm, problem. Big time. Scorpio men are very, very intense. When they want something, they don’t hold back. He was not holding back. However, I was due to the following list of red flags, which he casually revealed over the course of the conversation:

🚩Russian

🚩Grew up in Germany

🚩Currently lives in Switzerland

🚩He is only here for three days! Call now, or you’ll regret missing out on this special once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!

🚩Says he “runs his own business,” whatever that even means.

🚩Claims he is no longer married (sure, Jan), but apparently was very recently married to an Iranian woman, but only for a year, because they got married after six months and then it “didn’t work out,” probably because this guy moves at the speed of light.

🚩Says he loves Trump, describes Russians as “America’s Best Friend” (cue the bombastic side-eye).

🚩Asked me what’s wrong with being a “real man” and why is everyone so obsessed with “toxic masculinity” and am I going to cancel him for being a strong, manly man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it?

🚩Went on a mini-rant about transpeople and LGBTQIA+. I told him to just get over it and mind his own goddamn business.

🚩Made some very, very old school racist comments about black people.

🚩Asked me how I feel if Russia and Iran invaded America tomorrow? I just said, “Uh, well, you do realize that most Americans just casually stockpile guns, right? Just saying. I really think you’re gonna have a hard time taking over the Southsode of Chicago in a ground invasion.”

🚩Somehow came off as incredibly flirtatiously and charismatic in spite of the aforementioned ick factors, which I found very, very concerning.

Really, the only thing we actually agreed on was that neither of us wanted to talk about Israel. That was quite refreshing, actually. Turns out pretty much everyone is sick of their shit, so there is that.

So all of this happened BEFORE he proposed his big, genius idea to me: I should accompany him back to his fancy, luxury hotel that his clients are paying for, and then just stay there with him for the entire three days of his business trip.

I just laughed at him and said, “That is literally the plot of Pretty Woman. Are you planning to pay me for this?”

He was very smooth and suave about it. He was like, “Oh, well, we can do whatever you want. We can eat in the nice restaurants. I’ll take you shopping. You can go to the hotel spa all day while I’m at work meetings and then you will be mine for the evening. We can enjoy this beautiful city together. Just don’t fall in love with me.”

LOL WHAT?!

Hahahahahahaha!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I’m sorry, what?!

Yeah, I just have one question for you, bro: Does the human trafficking happens before or after this very elaborate fantasy you’ve concocted in the last hour you’ve known me?

Second question: Should we send in Liam Neeson now, or wait until after this has all gone terribly, terribly wrong and become an international incident?

Furthermore, I feel like there are professionals that you can hire exactly for this purpose. Julia Roberts would not approve of you approaching her as Erin Brockovich when you clearly want Pretty Woman.

… I forget her name in that movie, to be honest. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen it. Really all I remember out is when she tries to go shopping on Rodeo Drive and tells the snooty shopgirls to go fuck themselves, the scene where they’re at the horse race, and the scene where they have sex on the piano.

Wait a minute…

How big is this luxury hotel suite you’re talking about? Does it come with a baby grand piano? Because I might be willing to rethink your offer if it does, but only so I can say I had sex on top of a baby grand piano. A regular old grand piano is obviously better, but we do have to consider the size of whatever room this is in.

Anyway, clearly he was watching this movie on the plane over here from Switzerland because he was very committed to this idea. He tried SO hard to get me to go back to his hotel with him. So hard. He pulled out all the stops. He even broke out the old school seduction moves from all those 18th century Russian novels about poor, innocent women being ruined by aristocratic men playing psychological games with them.

Yeah, so, as it turns out, that shit is real AF.

It was kinda hot, but also weirdly desperate? Like, he was just trying sooooo hard. It did not help that he eventually revealed to me he had been drinking since his plane landed earlier yesterday morning.

By the end, I was so turned off that all I wanted to do was just shove him in a taxi and send him off into the night, never to be seen or heard from ever again. I did finally get rid of him at the end, but it took a lot to get there.

He was upset at me! He was like, “I don’t know why you’re rejecting me right now. You don’t even understand what I’m offering you!”

What, two days of sex, a couple of spa treatments, and a shopping trip? Big fucking whoop. I can do that myself.

He was literally acting like he had just offered me the entire world on a silver platter and I was just… not all that impressed, to be honest with you. Seriously, what kind of women has he been with who jump at this kind of shit?

It was so weird. I have the worst feeling he is going to show up again tonight and try again. Meanwhile, I am just sitting over here like, “Boundaries, Betsey. Boundaries. Do not fall into whatever honey trap this is. Just say no.”

I mean, of course there is a part of me that is also a Scorpio, and therefore thinks, “But I don’t actually have to like him in order to bang him. I can just get that itch scratched right now and then I never have to see this guy ever again.”

But then I’m also like… but actually I would rather hold out for true love, and by true love, I obviously mean my imaginary fantasy Irish guy who is generally very boring and stable and cozy and quite nice to snuggle with in front of the fire on a rainy day, and is brave enough to get up on that ladder and fix that weird little hole in the roof the squirrels made.

That’s hot.

Wait, do they have squirrels in Ireland? I have no idea. I’m sure they have varmints of some kind that chew holes in things and generally cause problems.

Yeah… nice choice here… should I hold out for the light-hearted romantic comedy about falling in love and finding my family in Ireland, or should we just go straight for the erotic spy thriller and skip right ahead to the steamy sex scenes in the high-rise luxury hotel in Hong Kong?

Such amazing choices the universe offers to me. Really, I don’t think I could make this stuff up if I tried. Really, I cannot. I just go out and sit in the corner alone and mind my own business and then along comes the crazy. Love that for me!

Wild.

Okay, I need a cigarette now. Just thinking about this makes me want to smoke.

As a certain Irishman in Bangkok once said, “To be a slut, or not to be a slut? That is the question.”

Indeed, it is.