Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there.
I got a sweet father’s day card from Swan this morning:
Long-time readers may remember the young woman I call Mary. She was eighteen when we briefly dated which is legal, but WAY to young for an old fart like me. It was when my granddaughter turned eighteen that I knew I couldn’t keep seeing Mary. Anyway, she moved to Manila for a factory job, and I posted about our last evening together here. Mary returned to Barretto several months later, by which time I had moved on with Swan. Mary asked for my financial help so she could attend college in Olongapo. I give her around seventy-five bucks a month, which covers some of her expenses. I don’t hear from her often, but she occasionally updates me on her progress. I’ve told her my expectation is for her to escape the poverty loop, succeed in her career, and then “pay it forward” to help others in need.
Anyway, that’s a long, drawn-out introduction for the Father’s Day message Mary sent me:
Dear John, Happy Father’s Day! I just wanted to take a moment to celebrate you today—not just as an amazing dad, but also as the incredible friend you’ve been over the years. It’s clear how much your kids look up to you, and that’s a testament to the kind of father and role model you are. You’ve always been there for me, through thick and thin, and I’m so grateful for your friendship. It’s like you’re a dad that I never had
Keep being the amazing person you are. Enjoy your day, my friend—you deserve it.
Thanks for the kind words, Mary. Well, that “you’re the dad I never had” line made me cringe a little. But I’m glad I’ve been able to help you pursue your dreams; it’s what dads do.
My ill health, as mentioned in yesterday’s post, has not yet been completely resolved. My temperature is back to normal, and I had enough energy this morning to do the Candy Walk, although it was a struggle. A new symptom, diarrhea, has befallen me, and it’s one of the worst cases in memory. I discovered its onset when I attempted to pass gas and sharted instead. No problem, I will just resist the urge to fart. Except it seems I fart in my sleep, and TWICE during my nap today I soiled my shorts. Yuck!
The appetite hasn’t returned either, although I did have a hamburger patty before walking this morning. You’d think if I weren’t eating much, there wouldn’t be anything in the bowels, but alas, that’s not the case.
Today I haven’t eaten anything other than that burger patty, and I’m still not hungry. It’s like being on a diet without even trying!
From the July 2009 LTG archives is another installment of the report on my trip to Bali. Everyone raves about the beaches in Bali, but I enjoyed our stay in the mountains at Ubud even more. Lots of pictures in that post to show you why. I believe this was also the first trip out of the country I took with my future wife, Jee Yeun. Oddly enough, I spelled her name differently back then.
Today’s YouTube video is about an expat who got ill (and diarrhea) from something he ate. I’ve thought about it, but I’m not sure what I had to eat that may have led to this. I had that enchilada dinner at Sit-n-Bull on Friday night, but my early symptoms don’t seem food-related (fever, lethargy). I threw up once on Saturday afternoon, but the diarrhea didn’t hit me until late Saturday night. Well, hopefully, this too shall pass (preferably into the toilet).
Now for the funny business:
Misery loves company. Thanks for joining me!
Sorry to read that you’re still sick. This, too, shall pass.
I’m sure you’ve heard of the Creepiness Formula for dating people. Divide your age by 2 and add 7. Every age under that result is creepy to date. So: 70/2 = 35, and 35 + 7 = 42, so that’s the minimum age you can date without being creepy. I think you’re safe with Swan.
Hey John, I want to talk to you about something that’s been on your mind. Losing bowel control during sleep can happen to anyone, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s not uncommon, and it doesn’t define you as a person. If you’re comfortable, maybe talking to a doctor could help us figure out what’s going on and find a solution.
Regarding your concerns about women being afraid of you for pooing your bed, it’s likely that they would be understanding if they knew what you’re going through. Let’s focus on finding ways to manage this issue and building your confidence. You’re more than this one aspect, and I’m here to support you.
I think I have mentioned it before, but when I have had bowel problems (which generally are due to bad food), I do a “nothing but rice and sports drinks/water” diet for a couple of days.
I know you are not a fan of rice, but the above seems to work in re establishing the proper gut health for me.
As @Kevin said, and I am sure it was pun intended, but this too shall pass.
Hey John , whats with the AI’s posting , how do they even get programmed to hit your blog ? Maybe some bored college kid doing some dorm room programming . Happy Fathers day and get well . No fun wakeing up in your own mess.
Nice to hear from you again, Terry. No idea what is going on with the AI comments. I guess the programmer figured artificial intelligence is better than no intelligence.
Thanks, I’m still liquid but not leaking!
Brian, thanks for the rice tip. I’ve pretty much lost my appetite for everything, but I can afford to skip a few meals I suppose. I’m making progress, at least I didn’t shit the bed last night!
Darren, thank you for your intelligent artificial concern. I’ve got this.
Kev, coincidentally, Swan turned 41 years old today, so I’m still “creepy” by whoever established that formula. Of course, here in the Philippines, it is said that “age is just a number.” I’ve chosen to identify as 30, so I can uncreepily date a 22-year-old. I guess that’s why it felt so weird with Mary.
It reminds me of my 50-year-old friend who took his 20-year-old wife out for their wedding anniversary. He told me that he could hear people whispering, “Pedophile,” and that their rude behavior ruined his tenth anniversary.
John,
At my age, I’m just as liable as any other old guy to appreciate the luscious beauty of a young, firm 20-year-old, but you’ll never catch me fucking or dating her. Not least because, mentally and emotionally, she’s still a child.
50/20 is quite the age gap. If she’s over 18, though, she’s legally making her own choices, so the label of “pedophile” is unjustified. I still think it’s creepy, though.
Kev, you missed the punchline of my “joke.” She was 20 and they were celebrating their tenth anniversary.
Yup—ça m’a passé sous le nez, as the French say: it passed right under my nose.
You saying my joke stinks?