Thursday’s highlight was a visit from Joy, then sharing dinner with her at one of the new samgyeopsal houses here in Barretto.

I’d rate the food overall as mediocre. I know I’m spoiled by all those years in Korea, but how can you not get samgyeopsal right? None of the three types was more than paper-thin; whether that was why it was almost tasteless, I can’t say. The sides were nothing special either, and the kimchi sucked. I enjoyed being in Joy’s company for the meal but not much else. Oh, and I knew the restaurant wouldn’t have gin, but the only beer they had was San Miguel Pilsner. I wasn’t going to break my diet for a beer I don’t even like. I had water with my meal.

Joy went home after dinner, and I hit the bars, starting with It Doesn’t Matter. Fellow Hasher Jim showed up a bit later, and I had company at the bar I didn’t have to pay for. We did a bit of a bar crawl, hitting BarCelona next. I don’t frequently visit there, but they all knew Jim by name. The bartender had a hot body and a friendly personality. Good combination!

Next up was Sloppy Joe’s. I’m liking this bar more and more. It’s got the outside seating I like and good service. It seems to be getting very popular too. We had a couple of drinks here, then Jim headed home. I went next door to Alaska for my nightcap and hoped to see Virginia. Alas, she hadn’t shown up for work again. Oh, well. Her loss. I’ll use the money I saved on lady drinks to pay my entrance fee for tonight’s SOB.

I did a solo morning walk on the neighborhood streets on Matain and through the Santa Monica subdivision.

I played around with that ChatGPT thing for a few minutes. I asked it who I am and it said I’m a nobody:

I’m sorry, but without additional context, I cannot determine who John Mark McCrarey is. It is possible that John Mark McCrarey is an individual who is not widely known or someone who uses a pseudonym.

I guess that may be true, but what about my blog?

I’m sorry, but I don’t have information on a specific blog named “Long Time Gone”. It is possible that the blog is a personal blog or a niche blog with a limited audience, and therefore may not have information readily available online. To find out more about the blog, you may try searching for it on the internet or contacting the author or administrator of the blog directly.

Oh, well. I’ll keep trying to make something of myself someday.

I paid a rare visit to the popular Filipino fast-food chain Jollibee yesterday.

Anyway, the purpose of the visit was not for me to eat; instead, I was doing something a little different for the Hideaway girls feeding. The local franchise is just across the river in Santo Tomas. As I was walking en route, I saw “mama” and invited her along for some Jollibee goodness.

The usual good time was had at Hideaway, including some free drinks for yours truly. I also got to control the music and played some of my favorite classic rock songs from the 70s.

I had heard from Virginia, one of the Alaska dancers, earlier in the afternoon. I was touched that she was thinking of me (and even remembered my name!), so I asked if she would be working later. She said yes and asked why, and I responded that I would come by to see her there. I moderated my alcohol intake at Hideaway to ensure I could navigate the highway walk/crossing and enjoy my time in Alaska with this cutie’s company. Alas, when I arrived, I saw Virginia wasn’t on stage with the other dancers. When I asked the waitress about her whereabouts, she just shrugged and said she didn’t come to work. I messaged Virginia asking what happened, and she told me she wasn’t feeling well. Hmm, well, thanks for letting me know; I made a special trip here for you. She did message me this morning and apologized again.

Another female friend (non-bargirl) was there for a pool tournament. She was seated at the next table, so I greeted her and wished her good luck. She thanked me, and as I was preparing to offer her a beer, but she turned her back to me and didn’t say another word. Talk about a cold shoulder!

So, I left Alaska after one drink and went next door to Sloppy Joe’s for my nightcap, then caught a trike home feeling a little melancholy.

I did almost 11K on my Sunday morning solo walk. I took the backstreets to Subic town so I could raid the ATM (those lady drinks don’t pay for themselves!). Along the way, I dropped off 1000 pesos so an acquaintance could have a birthday celebration for her daughter.

Nothing all that interesting along the way, but I did see the wealthiest man in Subic:

Here’s what my hike looked like from above:

You can Relive the experience and see some more photos if you are so inclined:

Up and at ’em again this morning. Did a beach walk to Baloy:

And now it is Hash Monday once again. The trail starts on Rizal Extension, so I reckon I’ll once again chance walking the My Bitch trail alone to get there.

I will be back tomorrow with a full report. Hopefully.

I opted not to attend the SOB dance competition as originally planned. I arrived at Cheap Charlies a little after 4 p.m. to await the arrival of “doors open at 5 p.m.” at Hot Zone, which is right across the highway from CC. I was somewhat surprised to see folks begin entering early, and by 4:30, that trickle had become a stream. Hot Zone is one of the smaller venues in the contest, so that didn’t bode well for me securing a preferred seat.

When it did come time for me to leave, I told Narissa I wanted to bill out. She got up and whispered something to one of the other girls, and they were laughing when she walked away. I asked what was up, and they said, “she couldn’t remember your name.” Ouch! But it was certainly a good indication of her interest level in me.

Narissa brought my change; I gave the girls all a 50 peso tip and headed to Hot Zone, arriving right at the scheduled 5:00 opening. Before I paid the entry fee, I took a look inside. As I feared, the place was already packed. There were still seats available, but I didn’t like the sardine can vibe. I’d also heard that a large group was coming in from Angeles for the show, and I reasoned that if I stayed, I might prevent an out-of-town guest from enjoying the contest. I’ll be around next week, so no big deal.

So, I was free on a Friday night, now what? I decided to treat myself to a meal at John’s place. He had posters up advertising a New Zealand ribeye promo for 695 pesos. Since I had just saved 700 pesos by bailing on the SOB, I took it as a sign of my dinner destiny.

And I was pleasantly surprised when Dr. Jo and her husband, Chris, arrived for dinner shortly after I did. We had a nice chat and some laughs while waiting on our food to be served. The Hideaway bar is practically right across the road from John’s, and while I was dining, Joy messaged that they had no customers. I told her to be patient as it was still early. She responded that she needed to earn some lady drink commissions so she could pay her electric bill. I suggested that she pray and ask God to send some business her way.

Naturally, when I finished my meal, I paid a visit to Hideaway, announcing as I entered, “God sent me.” And because I was on a mission from God, it was only fitting to treat all the girls to a drink. And so the party was on.

It wasn’t a feeding night, but the girls said they were hungry, so I sent one out for some roast chicken.

So, since I was the only customer and the girls were still talking about that country swing dancing we did during my last visit, I played all my old country favorites, singing right out loud and eventually giving a couple of them a twirl on our improvised dance floor. Good times! When it was time for me to go, I paid my hefty tab and tipped Joy enough to cover the month’s electric bill. I’m either a generous mother fucker or a sucker. Maybe a little of both.

The Friday walk was an 8k street trek. My lungs weren’t feeling up to a climb, so we took a Jeepney out to Waltermart in Subic town, then hiked the backroads home to Barretto.

Anyway, I decided to check in with my new best friend, ChatGPT, and get its opinion on whether or not I might have a drinking problem:

It depends on the quantity and frequency of your drinking, as well as the impact it has on your daily life. Consuming alcohol in moderation is generally considered safe for adults, but excessive or binge drinking can lead to a wide range of negative health consequences and can be a sign of an alcohol use disorder. If you are concerned about your drinking habits, it is important to speak with a healthcare professional or a licensed therapist.

Well, okay then. I’ll take that as a no. I consider it excessive when I wake up fully dressed, and that is very rare. Binge drinking? Hell, I take one shot of gin in a tall glass with a whole can of soda water and sip it. That’s pretty much the opposite of binging. Now, I know guys who start drinking a nine in the morning, and I never want to be like that. One of the reasons I quit the dart league was that I thought drinking at two in the afternoon was too early to imbibe. I do drink during my small window (usually five until eight or so) every day, but I don’t NEED to; I just want to until or unless something comes along that I enjoy more. I think the fact that I’m monitoring my consumption shows I’m in control. And I did give up beer in the interest of my health. As of now, I feel I’ve got it covered.

Time to prepare again for my nightly retirement party. Thanks for stopping by!

I got to thinking about my long-deceased father while sitting in the bar, assuaging my thirst for alcoholic beverages. Some of my earliest memories are of him taking me along when he visited the local beer joints. I guess they weren’t enforcing the “no minors” rules back then. I’d sit at a table sipping a Coke, and he’d be at the bar with a beer engaging the bartender and other customers with his wit and witticisms. Much like I do with the bargirls now. Speaking of which, after my father passed, I was going through some boxes of photographs, and I came across one of him in middle age on Texas Street in Busan, surrounded by thirsty bargirls. He was a merchant seaman, and Busan was just another port of call along the way. I wish I could ask him about his trips to the Philippines. Maybe I have brothers and sisters here. Oh shit. I just had a scary thought. Never mind, I don’t want to know.

Anyhoo, the bar culture is something that has become ingrained in me over the years. I don’t see a problem with that, provided you maintain some self-control and not be a drunken asshole. At least in the bars I frequent, everyone seems to get along, and we all enjoy a pleasant atmosphere. I didn’t really become a barfly until I moved to Korea and started living the Itaewon lifestyle. Met some good people back in those days, and I have no regrets then or now. It’s not the life for everyone, but it seems to work for me. Besides, what else am I going to do? I rarely even turn on my TV these days.

My journey to Cheap Charlies was much more pleasant last evening.

I had an amazing conversation with one of the new hires at Cheap Charlies, a waitress named Narissa. Chat with most bargirls is pretty much what you might expect: surface-level mundane banter on trivial subjects, with occasional jokes or sexual innuendo tossed in. Not so with Narissa. She surprised me by asking questions about American politics and politicians (is Trump really a jerk?), famous people she likes (Bon Jovi), and whether I’ve met them (who was the most interesting celebrity you’ve met?) and specific places (Have you been to Universal City in Florida?). I did ask if she likes hiking and she told me she prefers museums and zoos with rare animals. Anyway, it was refreshing to have a “real” conversation in the bar.

But I wasn’t quite finished yet. I needed to use an SOB “buy one, get one” coupon, so I made Whiskey Girl my next stop.

I went home shortly thereafter with a smile on my face. My Fitbit says I was asleep at 8:30.

And I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to start another day.

And the morning view from my back patio:

Life is good, or at least good enough.

Speaking of which, I was on my way to It Doesn’t Matter yesterday and passed a woman I know walking with her kids. She wished me a happy birthday. I told her it was not my birthday, and she asked, then why are you wearing a red shirt? I responded because it was clean and hanging in my closet and went well with the color of my shorts. She told me people usually wear red when celebrating their birthdays. Then when I arrived at IDM, I got the same treatment from the waitresses–what’s the occasion? It was all good-natured, of course, but damn, I like my red shirts (I have a couple), and I intend to wear them whenever I please. And from now on, if someone asks me if it is my birthday, I’ll respond with, “yes, it is; where is my present?”

The fact is, I was attending a birthday celebration for Heidi at Snackbar later in the evening, so I thought it was perfectly appropriate to wear red.

I had had a few gin and sodas before I arrived at Snackbar and a few more after I arrived. So, I was even more generous than usual with the lady drinks. Plenty for the birthday girl, of course, and also my new favorite Jenn (Lydell has pretty much ghosted me) and a couple of others.

I had a drunken good time and spent around 3000 pesos ($60) to pay for all that liquid fun. Fortunately, there is a trike stand right next door, so getting home was a breeze. I even made it by my bedtime. Some of the other guests at the party mocked me for being such an early bird, but hey, it works for me. I don’t want to be one of those fools who doesn’t know when to say when and winds up doing something stupid. Or worse.

Earlier in the day, I had done my standard Saturday street walk in Barretto.

Since this is a weekly jaunt, there was nothing much new to catch my eye, so I only took a couple of photos.

At Sit-n-Bull, I ordered a pulled pork sandwich and brought it home with me (yes, I took a trike). In deference to my diet, I took the meat off the bun and gave the bread to my helper. I poured my coleslaw side on top of the pork and chowed down. So, it wasn’t technically a sandwich, but it was masarap (that’s Tagalog for delicious; I just wanted to impress you all with my dozen-word vocabulary).

And about that diet–today was my weekly weigh-in, and here are the results:

This week I’m at 221.4 pounds, a reduction of 3.9 pounds since January 1 and minus 3.3 from last week. Slow progress, but at least I’m moving in the right direction. 195 is still a LONG way to go, though. I miss the ice cream more than the beer, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

I have the Sunday feeding at Hideaway on tap for later, and I also promised one of the Alaska girls I’d drop in to say hi tonight. Yeah, it’s a tough life, but somebody has to do it.

Back with more tomorrow.

I can’t wait to become less impatient.

A nice 6K hike with the Friday group to start my day. I’m going to be a Hare for the Hash on February 6, and this will work for the short trail:

I’ll add the photos from our journey at the end of this post.

Friday night is the SOB dance contest, and Whiskey Girl bar was the host this week. I got there early to secure a front-row seat for my viewing pleasure. And also because I’m a judge. The dancers are really stepping up their game and seem to have developed a competitive spirit. Good to see them having fun while entertaining us.

Last week’s champion, Voodoo, took third place:

Alaska is always a contender, and this week took second place.

And for the first time ever, Whiskey Girl took the crown, or banner as it were.

Here is the Whiskey Girl performance on video if you want to watch the action:

And as an added bonus, here’s my friend Irish from Queen Victoria bar:

I did, in fact, go to Queen Vic after the SOB, but I’d had too much to drink already, so just bought Irish and Susan one drink each and got my sorry ass home before I did something I might regret.

So, let’s take a hike, shall we?

Another good day. I have a lot to be thankful for.

UPDATE: Facebook reminds me that it was 18 years ago today that I made the life-changing move to Korea. Nothing has ever been the same since, and without Korea, I wouldn’t have found my way to the Philippines. There is much that I regret in my life, but leaving the USA and discovering a whole new world was the right move for me. Who knows what would have happened in wife #3 kept her promise to join me in Korea? Or if wife #4 kept her vow to love me until death do us part? But this is the life I have found, and this is the life I will live. For better or worse.

…but let’s ketchup!

Anyway, yesterday was pretty much a cluster fuck. The power went out around 8:30 a.m., and I was hoping it would just be one of those short one-hour outages that occur occasionally. So, I headed out for my regular Thursday solo walk, and the power was still out when I returned home two hours later. And then I found out it was a “scheduled brownout” and would last until 4 p.m. Damn it. I have no water without power, so I can’t even take a cold shower. No electricity means no internet and no ability to charge my phone and laptop. Almost like being poor, except my cupboards weren’t bare.

My new phone’s wifi hotspot wouldn’t connect to the internet. I just got my old phone back from the repair shop, so me and the helper struggled to take the sim card from the new one and reinsert it into the old one. That took longer than it should have (it was like fitting the pieces into a jigsaw puzzle). The old phone did connect me to the internet but at an incredibly slow speed. Uploading the photos for yesterday’s post was at an excruciating crawl, and my laptop was running out of juice, so I finally just gave up and posted what I had. So, here’s the rest of the story.

I had a dandy trek with the Wednesday Walkers. In the interest of brevity, I’ll just share the Relive video of the hike:

My nighttime activity was limited to one stop–Hideaway Bar. I rarely spend an entire evening without a change of scenery, but Wednesday was the exception to the rule. I guess the reason why is that there was a good vibe happening. Only one other customer that I recall, and I had control of the music machine so I could play songs that fit my mood (feeling sad as I remembered the anniversary of my mother’s passing). Joy was also providing some comfort, and someone kept buying me drinks. Everything just came together for a one bar night.

I splurged on tasty treats from John’s place for the bi-weekly feeding of the girls.

I drank away my blues and made it home safe and sound. Success!

In addition to having no power yesterday, I received three pleadings for assistance to resolve financial emergencies. My friend in Bohol required 3500 pesos to pay for her business license renewal (she runs a little eatery). I deemed that request worthy and managed to wire her the money despite my glacially slow internet. Another person I’ve been acquainted with since moving here needed 2500 pesos to obtain the required health certifications to begin work at a new restaurant in Olongapo. I agreed to provide the requested assistance and gave her the cash prior to this morning’s hike. The third request came from my favorite at Alaska Club and was the strangest I’ve ever had and also for the smallest amount–300 pesos. I’ll call her Pam for the purposes of this post.

I’m looking forward to getting the details next time I see her in person, but a female friend of Pam’s had asked that Pam accompany her on a visit to Bataan. Pam told her she didn’t have the funds to make the journey, and her friend agreed to cover the expenses. Yesterday morning, Pam awoke to discover her friend had abandoned her without a word. So, there she was, a stranger in a strange land with no money in her pocket to get back home. She sent me a message pleading for help, and there was no question I would provide it (the equivalent of six bucks for chrissakes). I just didn’t know how to get it to her. I usually do wire transfers, but Pam said there were no pick-up outlets where she was located. She asked me to send it via GCash, which is a big deal here in the Philippines–a mobile wallet–that I’ve never used and know nothing about. I asked my helper if she had a GCash account, and she did not. Pam advised the funds could be sent to her account from a 7/11 store, so I sent my helper out on a mercy mission. I’m happy to report that Pam made it home safely, and I will hopefully see her at tonight’s SOB. Oh, and I hope Pam’s “friend” keeps her distance so as to avoid being murdered–Pam was livid when we chatted.

In other news, either I’m famous, outed, or maybe both. My friend Kevin has been looking at his blog stats and noted that he had over 7,000 visitors one day. My little diary of a blog gets 250 hits on a good day, and I’m of two minds about that. I mean, I feel an obligation to post something every day for the loyal few who follow me here, and I’m always wowed by the feedback I sometimes receive in the comments. So, increasing regular readers would be a good thing, I suppose, in a “the more, the merrier” kind of way. On the other hand, there is a certain freedom that comes with anonymity. It may sometimes appear that I write as if no one is reading, and sometimes it does feel that way. So, I’m always surprised when I encounter an LTG reader in person, especially here in my little town. A reminder that I’m not as anonymous as I choose to believe. And then, yesterday, someone (one of my readers) sent me a link to this post on Facebook:

Now, there was a time I would post links to my blog on Facebook, but I stopped doing so several years ago. I post things here about my life that I wouldn’t dream of doing on Facebook. Even so, I’ve gotten negative feedback from family members saying my lifestyle here in the Philippines is inappropriate reading for my grandchildren, who are now old enough to Google my name and discover their perverted grandfather. Well, I guess I can always serve as a bad example. Nevertheless, it is somewhat disconcerting to know my local community may be reading my rantings and ravings. That won’t stop me from writing the truths as I see them, but I will strive not to invade the privacy of the people I know. So, as I go forward, I’ll be changing the names of people like “Pam” and may alter some details without changing the factual basis as necessary in future posts.

Back in the real world, at 4:30, I gave up on power restoration, sprayed on some extra cologne, and went out unbathed last evening.

I assuaged my hunger by ordering a plate of honey barbeque chicken wings from Foodies, the restaurant downstairs from Cheap Charlies.

The wings were good; the drinks were cold, and the company was thirsty. Everyone was happy!

Later, I dashed across the highway and had a couple more at Wet Spot. Then headed home, where I was relieved to see that the power had been restored but distraught when I discovered that the water pump was not functioning. Nothing to be done about it in my drunken condition, so I went to bed. This morning before the hike, I gave my helper some money to have someone repair it. When I returned from the hike, I once again had running water. The helper told me she had remembered how to reset the pump. I’m lucky to have her! (I hope she doesn’t read that and ask for a raise!)

And that should just about cats u up. I’ll be back tomorrow with more!

My Saturday was spent in typical fashion out on the streets of Barretto. My morning walk looked like this:

For all the f’n good this diet of mine is doing me. I actually gained 2.3 pounds since last week’s weigh-in. Yeah, I haven’t been totally faithful to the low-carb plan, but I have sacrificed beer and ice cream for the most part and increased my average daily step count to no avail thus far (well, I am down a half pound since the first of the year). It’s frustrating, but I’m not giving up.

My evening bar crawl looked like this:

Anyway, that’s what passes as excitement around here. I’ll be back to Hideaway tonight for the Sunday feeding, and we’ll see how things go from there.

I started this post with a joke, so I may as well end it with one.

I had another one of those out-loud conversations with myself in the wee hours of the morning. It went something like this:

Me: Am I alive or dead?

The voice in my head: Dead.

Me: So, is this place I’m in heaven or hell?

The voice in my head: Both.

I’m not sure what the takeaway from that exchange is supposed to be (other than evidence that I’m clinically insane), but there you have it. Nothing to do but keep on keepin’ on, so that’s my plan.

I had a good time at Hideaway last night, as evidenced by my bar tab of over 3000 pesos; I usually only spend a third of that amount. The difference was buying lady drinks for the other girls as well as Joy. I also splurged on the feeding, spending another 1200 on the giant tacos from The Coffee Shop restaurant. I guess I was just in one of those moods, and money doesn’t have much value unless you spend it. And I do enjoy buying those smiles.

After Hideaway, I paid a visit to Cheap Charlies. My regulars were otherwise occupied, but a couple of replacements were soon seated at my side. I didn’t stay long and don’t remember anything of significance, but that’s pretty much the story of this life I’m living.

My Fitbit stats say I went to sleep at 8:30 last night, which is early even by my low standards. Then I woke up at four in the morning and started talking to myself.

The Wednesday Walkers group did a relatively easy trek, mainly on the My Bitch trail. There were six of us all told, including a newcomer named Gen. Yeah, that Gen. She said she was tired at the end but seemed to enjoy herself. Welcome to the group!

And that was the hike.

Yeah, these past few days have been a good reminder of just how lucky I am. I think I’ve finally reached the “I don’t give a shit anymore” level of caring whether or not I have a significant other in my life. I guess you should never say never, but I ain’t gonna waste another minute worrying about it. My life is what it is, and I’ve already had more than my share of lemons.

When I was just a lad of ten, my father said to me,
"Come here and take a lesson from the lovely lemon tree."
"Don't put your faith in love, my boy", my father said to me,
"I fear you'll find that love is like the lovely lemon tree."

Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.
Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.

One day beneath the lemon tree, my love and I did lie
A girl so sweet that when she smiled the stars rose in the sky.
We passed that summer lost in love beneath the lemon tree
the music of her laughter hid my father's words from me:

Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.
Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.

One day she left without a word. She took away the sun.
And in the dark she left behind, I knew what she had done.
She'd left me for another, it's a common tale but true.
A sadder man but wiser now I sing these words to you:

Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.
Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.

I’m going to a birthday gathering today in San Narcisco.

It’s the birthday of my physician, Dr. Jo, and an invitation for me to attend was sent via a message to my helper (my helper is a certified caregiver, and she’s the one who makes my appointments–she got invited too). I’ve never had any previous out-of-office socializing with my medical professionals, so it was a surprise to get the invite. I’ve only been to San Narcisco once before, it’s a nice beach town, so I’m looking forward to hanging out at Mope Resort with my doc and her friends this afternoon.

Speaking of gifts, I was surprised when one of the Hideaway gals gave me a present last night. As for Dr. Jo’s birthday celebration, it seems like the perfect occasion to extend that warmth and generosity. Perhaps considering something unique, like custom hawaiian shirts, could be a charming idea. They’re not only a nod to the relaxed beach vibe of San Narcisco but also a fun way to add a touch of personality to the festivities. Plus, it could make for a memorable group photo with everyone sporting their own vibrant designs.

I was at Hideaway last night to feed the girls because I’ll be out of town for the regular Sunday meal I provide.

My pal Ron had invited me out to McCoy’s on Baloy Beach for a full moon viewing, so I grabbed a trike after Hideaway and made my way to the beach bar. It was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night, and I was especially happy about the lack of videoke singers squealers. I was disappointed that McCoy’s was without soda water, so I couldn’t stick to my gin. The bartender promised to order some for my next visit. They don’t have San Mig Zero beer either, so I was compelled to break diet and go with a San Miguel Light. Oh well.

Shortly after I arrived, Ron showed up with two other guys I’d never met, and the party was on. It wasn’t long before Ron’s friends wanted to barhop in Barretto, with Whiskey Girl being the first stop. I agreed to go along so I could get a squeeze from Jen, but I knew I wouldn’t be hitting any other bars; I was pretty much at my limit for the night.

I’d been intermittently chatting with Gen, and she’s heading back to Subic today. I guess I was too slow in responding to her messages, and she got upset. That unfurled a HUGE red flag in my mind. I told her I was in a crowded bar with friends and that it is rude to be on the phone when people are trying to converse with me. She said she was disappointed, which I find disappointing. I went back and checked this morning, and the longest gap between one of her messages and my response was fifteen fucking minutes.

So, today I’ve been thinking things over. First of all, I don’t really know this woman at all. Today she told me she wants to go to the Hash on Monday, and I told her that’s not a good idea. We have that whole virgin initiation thing, and I doubt she would find that fun. She wanted to get together tonight (I guess she’s not too shy to meet me without a chaperone now), but I have a party to attend. So, I reckon it will be Tuesday for the first in-person contact. Maybe it will be the last, as she says she will stay with her mother up north if she doesn’t find work here this week.

It seems to me that I’m always missing what I don’t have and think that I want. I guess a girlfriend has been at the top of that list for a while now. But damn, one thing I haven’t missed is the drama that seems part and parcel of a relationship. Just that little taste I had with Gen over message response times made me start thinking if this is something I really want to do. Let’s see if I can figure it all out before I fuck up. Again.

Maybe it just comes with the territory of being a man.

Here are the results from the Week 1 Weigh-In:

This week: 222.4

Last week: 225.3

Weight loss/gain: -2.9

Starting weight: 225.3

Goal: 195

The day started with a Friday group hike and ended with a dance competition. Try putting those bookends on your mantle!

The hike began quite a way from our usual meeting place at 7/11 on Baloy, which is just a few minutes walk from my house. This time we started at Barretto High School on Rizal Extension. I opted to take the most direct route, which means taking a path through the hills behind Alta Vista. That also required hiking it alone, which always makes me nervous because one slip, trip, or fall can have disastrous consequences if no one is around to assist you. I was extra cautious and completed the forty-minute trek without incident. And then the real fun began.

Our group headed up a path to Kalaklan ridge but didn’t go all the way to the top. Instead, we walked a trail midway up that paralleled Rizal Extension. It had been a while since I’d gone this way, and after the initial climb, it was quite pleasant. On the way back down some algae-covered steps, Scott slipped and came down hard. At first, he thought his ankle was broken, but thankfully that proved not to be the case. We took it slow the rest of the way down to the road, and he caught a trike home from there. Again, if that had happened when he was up there alone, he would have been screwed big time.

I’ll share photos from the hike at the end of this post.

Friday means attending the SOB dance competition, and this week the venue was Alaska Club. I left home around 4:00 p.m. to grab a bite to eat and be in line when the doors opened at 5:00.

Everything went according to plan, and I was the first to sign up for the SOB, which allowed me to select a comfortable seat with a nice view. I was doing the gin and soda drinks, so I needed to pace myself. It seems like one drink every 30 minutes is about right.

When things kicked off, the bar was packed. I guess we have a lot of tourists in town this week because several were doing the “two-week millionaire” routine. One guy was throwing cash on stage during the performance, which seemed a little rude to me. I mean, it’s fine when the girls are dancing for customers, but not so much during a competition. In my opinion, at least.

Another customer was throwing buckets of balls. I think I’ve mentioned this before. Some bars (including Alaska) have a small bucket of balls on the table. You can toss them to the girls for a 300 peso charge. The girls then scramble around, trying to pick up as many of the balls as possible. I understand they get 5 pesos for each ball they recover. I’ve never counted the number of balls in the bucket, but the bar obviously makes money on the toss as well. Anyhow, this guy kept throwing the buckets, seven or eight of them at least, so that adds up to a fair amount of money. I have just rarely seen the local expats engage in free spending like that.

That’s not to say that the expat community are all cheapskates, but most of us are more discreet in our giving. For example, I slipped each of the Alaska dancers (the ones not competing) a 50 peso note. Probably a better deal for them than scrambling around on the floor for a fuckin’ ping pong ball.

By the time things wrapped up at 8:00 p.m. (Alaska took first), I was feeling no pain. That didn’t stop me from having a final drink at Queen Victoria before grabbing a trike for home.

That covers the alcoholic portion of my life; let’s do the walkaholic part now:

And that’s the way the day went. Scott says he has some pain and swelling in the ankle, but it looks like nothing time won’t heal.

And now, it is time to shower up and discover what Saturday night has planned for me.

…sometimes you’re the bug.

I had a 15% discount coupon for Sit-n-Bull due to expire soon, so I decided to splurge a bit on the Wednesday feeding at Hideaway. Lasagna for Joy, tacos, chicken wings, chicken fingers, and lumpia for the rest of the crew. Even with the discount, it came to over 1600 pesos ($30). Still, I often spend that much on myself during a night out, so I’ll revel in the feeling good from seeing those smiling faces.

I stayed at Hideaway a little longer than usual and played Joy in pool again. This time I won! That’s surprising because she is a good shot. I still had four balls on the table when Joy missed the winning shot at the 8-ball, then I ran the table for the victory. As they say, it is better to be lucky than good.

Walking up the highway after Hideaway, I decided to pay a rare visit to Blue Butterfly for my nightcap before heading home. I was surprised to be warmly greeted by Tanya, who used to come to the Hash occasionally. Naturally, I invited her to join me for a drink at my table. Another waitress approached and greeted me by name. She was vaguely familiar looking, but I’ll be damned if I have a clue as to who she is. I bought her a drink as well. Then a vendor came by selling balut (fertilized duck eggs), so I got some for the girls to enjoy.

I had a couple of drinks, then Tanya hailed a trike for me, and it took my drunk ass home. I’m still looking for the sweet spot when I’m drinking gin and sodas.

I’m doing okay on my informal diet plan so far, I think. I had a few strips of bacon before my hike, an orange, and some seaweed chips as a snack after the hike, and then limited myself to two small tacos (one corn shell, on soft) for dinner. And no beers. I won’t know until I do my weekly weigh-in on Sunday if going without is making a difference.

In the morning hours, I was huffing and puffing with the Wednesday Walkers group out Subic way. The thing about the Wednesday/Friday hikes is that we have a general idea in mind but no actual trail like at the Hash. Sometimes that leads to adventure. Yesterday, we got stymied multiple times by deadends as we searched in vain for a path down off the mountain that used to be there (we did it over a year ago), but it is apparently so little used that the jungle vines have overgrown it. We eventually retreated and took another path down, and it turned out fine—all part of the fun. I reckon even Lewis and Clark had some deadheads when they ventured out west. Not that I’m comparing our group to theirs–we don’t have anyone like Pocohantus to guide us.

Here are some photos from our quest:

Things don’t always go as planned, but that means it doesn’t get boring. I’d call that a good day!

Another interesting chat with Gen today, but I’ll need to process my thinking a little clearer before I can decide what exactly I’m feeling. If anything.

Stay tuned!

Well it's a strange old game you learn it slow
One step forward and it's back you go
You're standing on the throttle
You're standing on the brake
In the groove 'til you make a mistake

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

You gotta know happy - you gotta know glad
Because you're gonna know lonely
And you're gonna know sad
When you're rippin' and you're ridin'
And you're coming on strong
You start slippin' and slidin'
And it all goes wrong because

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

One day you got the glory and then you got none
One day you're a diamond and then you're a stone
Everything can change in the blink of an eye
So let the good times roll before we say goodbye because

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love

Took care of some business yesterday, including getting a 60-day extension on my tourist visa. My very tentative thinking is that between now and March 5, when I’m due to renew, I’ll take a trip out of the country, perhaps to Vietnam. We’ll see. I’ll be going to the mountain city of Baguio next month to participate in the La Union Hash Valentine’s run. I’ve been there twice before and enjoyed it. And I also want to plan a trip to Bohol sometime this month. It’s been at the top of my list of places I want to see in the Philippines since before the scamdemic. No more excuses now.

My shopping trip to Royal went without incident. The five sale items in my cart all rang up with the appropriate discount. I’ll keep watching, though.

I felt like crap all day, low energy, and lethargic. Took two naps without much result. Got out the thermometer and saw I was running a low-grade fever of 38.1C. Popped a couple of aspirins and got on with my life.

The only issue with my new drinking routine is that it costs me twice as much because my method is one shot of gin in a tall glass and a whole can of soda water to add to the mix. It’s worth it because it allows me to both reduce the strength of my drink and slows the rate of consumption some. I had a coupon for Green Room that gave me two free drinks if I bought a lady drink, so I actually saved money on that deal.

After Green Room, I crossed the highway and checked my barber and was actually able to take a chair!

A couple more drinks at IDM, three at Cheap Charlies, and a nightcap at Voodoo. I wasn’t drunk, and it wasn’t even 8:00 yet, but I’d had enough, so I called it a night.

It’s probably too early to call this significant news, but I have been chatting with a woman I “met” on Facebook. An interesting gal who seems smart and witty. She also told me she likes to hike. I’m intrigued and want to learn more.

Gen is studying Korean because she hopes to find work there as an OFW. That would be consistent with my luck–I moved to the Philippines from Korea to find a woman, meet her, and then she moves to Korea. But that’s getting way ahead of myself. She did offer to be my tutor if I wanted to learn Tagalog.

We had a funny exchange in our chat last night. She asked me where I was, and I truthfully answered, “It Doesn’t Matter.” She responded, “okay, sorry to have asked.” I was laughing at her reaction and sent her this picture:

I guess Gen still didn’t get it because she wrote, “maybe it is better if you just say it’s none of my business.” Alright, I explained again that it was the name of the bar I was at, and I thought it was funny how she reacted. She finally understood and said it was funny but also reiterated that she didn’t mean to intrude on my privacy; she was just checking in on me. A bit of a red flag, perhaps, but we moved on and continued a pleasant chat throughout the evening.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to learning more about Gen when we meet in person next week.

Speaking of Facebook and the passage of time, I shared this on my page:

I thought it was kinda funny in a sad way, but my old friend Jeremy left this comment:

Yeah. People say shit that they don’t mean all the time, especially when they’re drunk, high, or otherwise intoxicated. Of course, in the first several months of any relationship, the love chemical, oxytocin, that the body produces is going to be in excess. Hence, the expression ‘drunk in love’. In fact, researchers have found that oxytocin make lovers feel positive drunk-like effects such as being relaxed, happy, and more confident as well as the negative effects such as aggression, jealousy, and arrogance.

However, this is necessary for the human propagation as a species. If we didnt have oxytocin, then we’d probably never mate (willingly). It just happens that many, especially the young (or inexperienced) don’t understand the thoughts and feelings that accompany the increase in oxytocin, so they say stupid shit like the above. To avoid having negative thoughts about the people who say such nonsense, it’s good to understand that they’re voicing an inebriated fantasy rather than making a sober, analyzed decision. This will make it hurt less IF forever doesn’t last until death did you part.

That sounds more cynical than even I’ve become, although I guess the “inebriated fantasy” is a shoe that might fit me. I tried to lighten the mood by asking, “Do you need a prescription for oxytocin? I could use some right about now.” It didn’t work:

you can get a prescription for oxytocin. However, studies suggest that it might be bad for those suffering from anxiety and depression, but you can also increase it naturally by physical touch (doesn’t need to be sexual, but it can result from masturbation), social interaction, massages, petting animals… basically, being generally happy. However, alcohol isn’t conducive to happiness from the standpoint of the physical body. You might feel good due to the inebriation, but it increases cortisol, a stress hormone, anxiety, depression, etc.

The exercise that you do (long hikes) is great for increasing your oxytocin levels, but all your gains are nullified by all of the alcohol consumption, both from a physical and mental standpoint.

All I could say to that was, “oh well, I guess I’m doomed.”

I do have some love in my life; they even like to take a morning walk with me.

And that’s about all I’ve got for today’s post about the third.