Anyway, before I go into rant mode, let me share the photos from last night’s feeding at Hideaway. After finishing my doctor’s appointment, I ordered take-out from Sit-n-Bull for the girls.

As usual, it was a good time, and the girls were all appreciative. The bi-weekly feeding events are something we all look forward to.

But here’s the darker side. I stopped in another bar after leaving Hideaway. One of the girls currently working there briefly participated in my “friends with benefits” program while she was unemployed during the scamdemic. She’s got three kids, including one that might be just over one year old now (she was still lactating when she was an FWB). Nice enough gal and very attractive. The problem was that I discovered she is still married. That’s not unusual, I suppose, especially since divorce is not allowed in the Philippines. But her husband was still living at home with her and the kids. Adultery is a crime in the PI, and I had no intention of going down that road. I don’t know if he knew what his wife was doing with me, but I didn’t want to be around her if and when he found out. So, I stopped seeing her and shortly thereafter ended the FWB program. We did remain Facebook friends.

She came back to work in the bar several months ago, and we renewed our “lady drink” relationship. She told me her husband was working out of town. One night she came into the bar on her night off with a foreigner. That’s pretty unusual in and of itself; most of the girls keep their non-work life out of the bar. I guess he was a tourist because he’s now back in his home country. I know this because the girl in question is posting endless threads on Facebook (with photos of their video chats), professing her endless and undying love for this man. Hell, for all I know, she might even mean it. But last night, she took her usual seat next to me in expectation of getting lady drink commissions.

At first, I was inclined just to ignore her. The were two other gals vying for my attention as well. One is new, and the other I’ve known for years. But in the end, I just decided it was none of my business. Odds are good she is scamming this guy for monthly “support” money, and honestly if he is stupid enough to send it to her, why should I care? I wouldn’t be surprised if the husband is a willing participant. Having a “rich” foreigner around helps pay the rent. Indeed, perhaps I should congratulate her. Well, I guess I sort of did when I bought her the drink she coveted. See, that’s how the game is played, and I’m getting better at it. The trick is not to get played in the process.

I also heard from Agnes for the first time since she abandoned her lady drink from me to play kissy-face with another guy in the bar. I responded to her message by asking how things were going with the boyfriend. She answered that he was “just a friend.” I said, “do you tongue-kiss all your friends in the middle of a crowded bar?” For some reason, she never responded to that question. Oh well.

I’ve got a healthy case of “I don’t give a shit anymore” now, and I’m just going to do what I want when I want with whomever I want and not even worry about it. None of this crap is real, anyway. There’s freedom in that knowledge.

Things went fine with the doctor. I got another set of nostril injections, and today I have a good reduction in congestion (I couldn’t breathe through my nose at all yesterday). I’m still dealing with my lung issues, but I fear that may be my new normal. I’m still in the game as long as I’m still breathing, and that’s how I want to keep it.

It’s another Hash Monday, so here’s hoping it’s a good day on trail. Back with a full report tomorrow.

You can't hide your lyin' eyes
And your smile is a thin disguise
I thought by now you'd realize
There ain't no way to hide your lyin' eyes

Fall has arrived in the Philippines! But around here, it ain’t the leaves that are falling off trees…

The construction behind my house continues apace, and the noise is quite irritating. Annoising if you will. I try and time my nap from noon until 1:00 while the workers are on lunch break.

Escaping the sounds of creation makes my morning walks all the more pleasant.

So, about last night. I had good intentions to start the evening off with some darts practice. Then I remembered that Barretto was undergoing a scheduled brownout (power interruption) until 5 p.m. (I’m technically in San Isidro, so wasn’t impacted). I knew Johansson’s wouldn’t have a generator, so I left the darts at home and went to It Doesn’t Matter instead.

It was the first time I’d been back since the incident with Agnes, and she wasn’t there. Maybe her biker boyfriend is supporting her now. None of my business, and I certainly wouldn’t be buying her drinks again, regardless. My waitress this time was Maria, and she’d always been flirty, and after a couple of beers, I invited her to join me (I know, I know, but old habits die hard.) She brings her beer over to where I’m seated; we tap bottles, she takes a swig and says, “I’ll be back.” Maybe you’ve guessed where this is going–she never returned to finish her beer. I really don’t understand that mentality at all; the deal is she gets the commission, and I get some of her time. Ignoring a customer is a losing proposition in the long run–Maria will certainly never get a drink from me in the future. Maybe I should be thanking her for saving me the money.

When it came time for me to move on, I was craving an elevated view. I decided BarCelona would give me what I was looking for. I ordered a beer and took a seat out on the rooftop.

When it was time to refresh my beer, there was no waitress to be found (I was alone on the roof). So, I went inside and noted that the girls were all congregated around the pool table. I stood at the bar and waited (the bartender was MIA as well). After a few minutes, a waitress did approach me and said what sounded like, “You should sit beside me; I don’t want to have to go all the way out there.” I gave a grumpy response along the lines of “sorry to make you do your job,” and went back to my table to wait for the beer. When she brought it, she sat down next to me, which surprised me a little. She said, “yeah, I want to be close when you need another beer; that’s why I said I would sit next to you.” Ah, I had misunderstood what she said before; okay, my bad. We had a nice chat, and I wound up buying her a drink to make up for the misunderstanding.

I had a “buy one, get one” coupon for Hot Zone, so I made that my next destination. It wasn’t busy when I arrived, so I settled back and watched the dancers as I sipped my beer. HZ does have some of the hottest girls in town on stage; I’ll grant them that. Well, except they weren’t on stage long–a group of Korean men came in and brought all but one of the dancers down for lady drinks. I think they had most of the waitresses around their table too. Ah, just like the good ol’ days–big-spending tourists spoil the girls, so locals like me don’t have to! Well done, gentlemen.

I left Hot Zone and headed down the highway toward home, but I still had an hour or so to kill. I paused at Sloppy Joe’s but decided to do Queen Victoria instead. They weren’t busy either, and I was still on my first beer when my old regular TinTin plopped down on the stool next to me. She didn’t perform with the QV group at the SOB, so I asked her about that. She said she hadn’t had time to learn the new routine yet. I responded that she should tell her new boyfriend she needs to practice. She answered, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” The Tagalog word for that is “bola bola,” which roughly translates as “bullshit.”

I will also confess that seeing that toothless grin made me wonder how good she is at blowjobs. Yeah, I’m a sick bastard.

I didn’t stay long at Queen Vic, and after exiting the building, I noted there were no trikes standing by in the usual location, so I walked a couple of blocks to the trike stand at Baloy road. And, of course, that put me out in front of Snackbar. It’s been a few weeks since my last appearance there (I hadn’t felt welcome), but my beer impairment overcame whatever grievances I was holding, and I popped in to have one more for the road. I was very surprised to see Lydell, one of my favorites from the now-defunct Kamto, working there. Last I’d seen her; she was at Adam’s Bar. And most of the other regulars did give me a hearty welcome back, so maybe those grievances were all in my head. And yes, we celebrated my return with a round of lady drinks. What can I say? I guess it’s just my nature.

Seriously, I do enjoy being generous with the girls. Makes me feel good, so it’s as much about me as it is about them. Rather than change my ways, I’m thinking avoiding the bad ones (like Agnes and Maria at IDM) is a better course of action. We’ll see how that works out for me.

And that brings y’all right up to date. Feeding night a Hideaway later. I also have an appointment with Dr. Jo this afternoon. Updates on all that tomorrow.

Yep, things are back to normal.

I’m giving myself a break from the game of paying for bargirl company. Turns out I’m not that good a player, and I start taking the whole fantasy a little too seriously. The recent incident with Agnes was a wake-up call. She was merely playing the game to her advantage, and I took the bait. So, I’ll just concede defeat and move on. For a while, anyway.

To the extent there’s a void to be filled, I’ll explore new venues where I’m not well-known to the girls and drink alone. That’s not to say I’ll never go back to my old haunts, but I’ll be upfront about the days of plying my favorites with lady drinks being over. Okay, I’m making an exception regarding Joy at Hideaway. That’s always been a different kind of relationship, and I’ve come to enjoy the bi-weekly feeding sessions. Why should I deny myself that pleasure?

I also think that perhaps I’ll take up darts again. It’s a safe and comfortable way to pass the time and will keep me entertained without a young Filipina by my side. I will need to practice and get my game back before I play in a competitive tournament. I think Johansson’s might be the place to go–nice boards, no bargirls, and rarely crowded. Stay tuned.

So, about last night. I decided to walk to the far side of town and have some dinner at John’s place. I went up to the third-floor bar and took a seat with a view.

I enjoyed a couple of beers with my meal, too. So, where to go next? I considered Mugshots but walked on by. I’m taking a break from IDM for now. Started to go to Cheap Charlies and changed my mind; not ready for those gals again either. I prefer an outdoor bar, and BarCelona was just about my last option, so that’s where I wound up.

I’ve never seen it so dead before. Usually, there are people playing pool, at least, but not last night. No one at the bar inside either. One guy seated at an outside table surrounded by bargirls–heh, me in a previous life! I sat alone at a table by the railing.

Even with only the big spender around, I had to get up to find someone to bring me another beer. It seems the service in BarCelona is always slow to non-existent. Too bad, really, because it is a very nice venue otherwise.

And then another customer arrived, and it turned out to be someone I’m acquainted with from the days I used to hang out at Snackbar, Marvin. Fascinating guy who regaled me with stories about his exploits as both a businessman and a treasure hunter in the Philippines. Yes, people are still looking for Yamashita’s gold, and Marvin’s a mining engineer by trade. Anyway, it was a much more satisfying conversation than I’ve ever had with a bargirl.

When it was time to go, I headed to Queen Victoria to use the last of my 500 peso voucher coupon. They also weren’t busy, but the bargirls there pretty much ignored me as well. TinTin did say hello but didn’t attempt to entice me to buy her a lady drink. Well, that’s okay. It gave me time to think about my new plan for a solitary bar life.

We’ll see how long I can go drinking alone.

Tuesday is normally my “lazy” day, but I experienced a lot of ups and downs yesterday.

Started out with my third trip to immigration for my ACR (Alien Certificate of Registration) card. It took them a while fingering through stacks of cards, but at last, they found mine. One less thing to worry about as I begin planning my required departure, probably in November.

The next stop was the Royal supermarket on my weekly grocery run. The store frequently has certain items with markdown/sale pricing. For example, yesterday, they had Marie Callender frozen pot pies for 30% off. That brought the price down to $3.60 (yes, they use dollar amounts for imported goods), and I decided to buy one for old times’ sake. I’m not sure why but for some reason, I made a mental note to watch the cashier scan my pie to make sure I was getting the discount. My intuition proved correct because it rang up at the full price. I pointed out that the pie was on sale, and the cashier called the floor supervisor over. The supervisor sent the bagger to verify the price, and I engaged in some frustrated banter about scamming customers with fake discounts. Yeah, I went there, although I did remain calm and spoke in a normal voice. When the bagger came back with the correct price, the supervisor started to manually ring up the purchase, but I stopped her and said, “I don’t want it now.” It was the least I could do. In the future, I will keep all “sale” items together in my cart and watch the prices on the register to make sure I’m really getting the discount. And yes, I know I was only being ripped off for $1.50, but it is the principle of the matter.

After I got back from my Royal adventure, I headed over to Dr. Jo’s office. The appointment was for my friend Bhel’s daughter and a follow-up visit for her son (blood work). I had volunteered to pay the doctor’s fees for Bhel. I arrived a little early, so I treated myself to lunch downstairs at Angel’s Bakery.

Bhel arrived with her kids right on time, so I joined them upstairs. Dr. Jo invited me to sit in on the consultation, but I demurred, saying I was only there to pay the bill. I’m not sure what medical issues her 13-year-old daughter might be dealing with, but I do know that’s none of my business, and prefer giving the family their privacy. Dr. Jo’s husband joined me in the waiting area, and we had a nice chat. They are in the process of moving into a rental property in Alta Vista. I told him about my potential forthcoming move, and we somehow got on the subject of the UK healthcare system (he’s not impressed). I asked if he’d ever seen House, MD, and he said he had not. That surprised me, but he said medical dramas have so many inaccuracies that he’s grown weary of watching them. When the session with Dr. Jo was complete, Bhel came out with a prescription. I asked Dr. Jo how much the bill was; she said, “no charge.” I persisted, and she insisted there was nothing owed. I’m sure she was just being generous; I always paid a fee for my consultations. She’s a good woman and a good doctor with a good heart. Thanks for that! I gave Bhel 2000 pesos to fill her prescriptions, then headed back home.

My part-time helper who lives downstairs gave birth to a daughter this week. My helper’s name is Geraldine, she goes by Inday, and her Hash moniker is Cum In My Basement. It wasn’t me, but somebody obviously did. Actually, her live-in boyfriend has assumed his fatherly responsibilities.

My mountain mama friend messaged me with a plea to let her perform massage services. She was especially desperate this week because her daughter has a birthday coming. Well, I’m here to help, and it turned out to be one of the best massages ever.

Just before I headed out for the evening, I heard from Cathy, the adopted mother of the boy I sponsor at school in Bohol. She advised that Eithan had been promoted from a Cub Scout to a Boy Scout, and so he needed a new uniform. Sure, why not? I wired her the money she required to make the purchase.

So, with my good deeds completed for the day, I headed out to support the local bars and the girls who work in them. I started at It Doesn’t Matter and sat with my regular there, Agnes. I started feeling hungry, so I ordered a chicken burger, and Agnes went with chicken fingers. They do a good job for a bar kitchen.

I tend to like to move around some, so after the meal, I paid up and headed out. I hadn’t been to Blue Butterfly in quite a while, so I hoofed it on over there to see how my friend Tee was doing. I prefer the outside area, and as I entered, I received a warm greeting from the gals sitting around waiting for customers. One of them told me she’d go fetch Tee, so I sat down at my favorite table, expecting Tee to bring my beer. Instead, I was served by another gal who knew me, but I didn’t recall her at all. She mentioned that we had met at the old T-Rose bar, but it still didn’t ring a bell. When I confessed that I didn’t even know her name, she seemed genuinely disappointed. “I’m Jo; you really don’t remember?” Sorry. About this time, Tee came out and stood beside the table (there were only two chairs). I chatted up Tee, asked when she’d be returning to the Hash, and the usual how you been talk. Jo didn’t take the hint to leave, so I figured I’d be entertaining two gals (not that unusual). Then Tee just walked away without a word. Saw her briefly chat with the girls on the other side of the patio, then she went back inside the bar. WTF was that all about? I was down to my last swig of beer and had intended to have a second and order two lady drinks for the girls. Instead, I just paid my tab, tipped Jo, and left. I don’t have any reason to return to Blue Butterfly now.

There are always other options, and I had another “buy one, take one” coupon for Hot Zone. I was a little surprised when my friend, the door girl, didn’t follow me inside. I soon discovered why–some two-week millionaire had every single girl inside the bar surrounding him at his table. And it wasn’t just lady drinks he was buying–he had a shitload of food delivered from Sit-n-Bull as well. To their credit, a waitress would always come over to serve me when needed. I tried to have a drink sent outside to the door girl (she couldn’t come inside because there was no one available to take her place) and was told that she had one waiting for her from Mr. Rich Guy. Okay, good. Everyone was taken care of, and I could give my wallet a rest.

I chatted with owner Jay for a bit; then he went out to walk his dogs. A bit later, a group of bikers (The Mad Dogs from Angeles) came in. They took up seats around the empty dance stage with “now what?” looks on their faces. You know, I get it. The girls love the big spenders, and I’m sure it is good for the bar’s bottom line. That guy with the deep pockets spent more in the hour I was there than I might do in a month, and I’m on the generous side of the scale. Still, there were eight or nine other customers in a girly bar with no available girls. Not sure what, if anything, you can do about that.

And while all of this drama was going on, I got a message from my helper that the water pump wasn’t working. I messaged my landlord in Singapore, and he responded that he was sending a plumber. Then an hour or so later, I heard back from the helper that the next-door neighbor had inadvertently turned off my water at the meter, thinking it was his. And yes, it was the plumber who discovered this fuck up. I felt bad for having put the landlord through this unnecessary expense and hassle, but honestly, I would have never even thought to check the meter. Oh, well.

I intended Green Room to be my final destination on the night, but it was packed with pool players for league night, and I didn’t see anywhere to sit. I shrugged and moved next door to Wet Spot. Thankfully I didn’t see Marga working, and I think Aine is long gone now, but I sat at the manager’s table and chatted with a couple of folks I know. A bit later, my favorite Green Room waitress appeared and was thirsty for a lady drink. They have an arrangement between the two bars that staff can join customers in either location and still earn commissions on drinks. I actually think that’s a good arrangement for both patrons and employees. Still, it seemed a little strange to be drinking with a Green Room waitress while my Wet Spot waitress looked on. So, I erased that discomfort by buying her a drink too. Then the cute little bartender caught me giving her the eye, so I smiled and sent her a drink as well. Yeah, I might have been a little drunk at this point.

Still, it was only a little after 8:00 p.m. when I caught a trike for home. And then I proceeded to eat almost the whole half gallon of the irresistible Butterfinger ice cream I had purchased that morning. Okay, I guess I was a little drunk.

Hey, but what a day, right? Next up is my Wednesday bargirl feeding at Hideaway and whatever comes after. Join me tomorrow for a full report of the night’s events and also the photo essay from this morning’s hiking adventure in Castillejos.