It being Halloween and all, I suppose getting haunted by the past is par for the course. Earlier today, I posted something I had written back in April 2017. Yesterday was the eighth anniversary of how that “Brand New Plan” worked out for me. I wrote about that failure in a post called “FUCK ME!” Of course, looking back, it is easy to see now that I was lucky to get screwed over before I wasted more time and money on someone of such low character. Life’s best lessons are the hard ones, which is not to say that I’ve been all that successful learning from them. But here I am, still in the game. It’s late in the game, but I’ve got a good woman to see me through to the end this time.
Even one of my normal nothing days is better than a stab in the heart. Boring doesn’t hurt nearly that bad. Swan and I took a beach walk, then crossed the river for a street walk in Matain.
Swan wanted some “me” time at home, so at beer o’clock, I ventured out into Barretto on my own. I made Cheap Charlie’s my first stop.
I was surprised to be the only customer in the bar for most of my visit. Cheap Charlies used to have an early crowd, but the girls say it’s been slow lately. Speaking of the girls, there were a couple back to work that I knew from those long-ago days when I was a regular here. A lot has changed since then, including Cheap Charlie’s raising the price of a single lady drink to 250 pesos. That’s one of the most expensive in town. I’m not a cheap Charlie by any means, but as I explained to the girls, I won’t pay more than 200 pesos for a lady drink as a matter of principle. While I’m sure they were disappointed, they seemed to understand. They cheered up when I handed out some cookies and lollipops, then I ordered the gals some chicken fingers and lumpia from the restaurant downstairs. Coincidentally, the price of the food was the equivalent of two lady drinks. So, win-win.
When I finished the last San Mig Zero in the Cheap Charlies fridge (yes, once again, bars all over town have run out, and the supplier says it is unavailable), I crossed the highway and found a seat at a rather busy Green Room. Then it was next door to Wet Spot for my nightcap, before grabbing a trike for home.
I guess that proves that I only drink when I’m alone or with someone.
It is now January 2015 in the LTG archives, and the new year began with a life-changing event: my wife told me she was unhappy in our marriage. I asked if she was willing to work on improving things, and she responded, “Not really.” I tried for a year to change her mind without success. It still hurts, and I still don’t understand it.
Today’s YouTube video features Reekay talking about the perils and joys of building relationships within the expat community. From my perspective, friendships come naturally, but as an introvert, making them can be difficult. I have lots more acquaintances than friends, but the friends are people I share common interests and socialize with, like my neighbors and fellow Hashers.
Let’s try to bury the sad days in the past with some humor:
A journey through the past, like I’ve been doing over the past couple of days, can be exhausting. As I’ve always said, it only hurts until the pain goes away. Tonight is the final edition of the SOB dance competition, and I’ll be there to add it to my memory box. I’m sure it will be a bittersweet experience.
but as an introvert, making them can be difficult.
Spot the error!
Have fun at the SOB’s last gasp. Or grasp. Or death rattle. Whatever.
They should make it fun by throwing all the girls in a pit, handing out swords and axes, and telling the girls that the lone survivor gets $10,000 cash. If you can’t go out with one kind of bang, go out with another.
Couple of linked posts that were quite the downer. But, that is life sometimes I guess.
As long as you are comfortable that you have found companionship rather than love, that is not a bad thing after all the trials and tribulations you have had when you were searching for love. As we have talked before on your blog, relationships at the most base level are transactional. Just spitballing, but my guess is that with Loraine for example, she was looking for someone to adopt her kid, and probably knew that you were not willing to do that.
Anyway, as you often say, you are still here to enjoy the life you do have. Be grateful for the things you have rather than unhappy about the things you don’t.
Brian, the only issue I have with Loraine was her lack of honesty. She denied her involvement with someone else right up until the end. The blame is on me for not realizing that I loved her until I had lost her. So, “my brand new plan” was flawed because I’m a sucker for love.
Of course, my perspectives are different at 70 than they were at 60. The clock is winding down, and I’m going to make the most of the time I have left. So, remembering the past and learning from it is fine, but I’m not going to let what happened before negatively impact what is now.
Each new day is a gift to be enjoyed.
Kevin, I’m sorry, but I don’t see the error. I think it would be clearer if I wrote, “but as an introvert, making friends can be difficult.”
Well, no killings at the SOB last night, but all the dancers were wearing scary costumes. Of course, scary and sexy are two different realms, so it wasn’t as fun to watch.
It’s something I’ve discussed on your blog before, but I haven’t hit it on Substack yet: a dangling modifier. You wrote:
but as an introvert, making them can be difficult.
“As an introvert” is a modifier that’s supposed to describe the subject of the ensuing clause, but the subject of the clause is “making.” So “making” is an introvert. Possible correction:
“…but as an introvert, I’ve had difficulty making friends.”
Dangling modifiers are an example of when our brains know what they want to say, but it comes out wrong.
Correct these dangling modifiers:
•As a child, French was difficult.
•At seven feet tall, audiences were astounded by the player’s height.
• Trying hard not to fart, class seemed interminable to the sweating Brandon.
Good luck!
Regarding that procession: I think that was the precursor to observing the Day of the Dead.
Kevin, here goes:
When I was a child, learning French was difficult.
He stood seven feet tall, and the audience was astounded by the player’s height.
He was trying hard not to fart, but the class seemed interminable to the sweating Brandon.
A total rephrasing would probably work better, but I wanted to stay within the framework you provided.