Things don’t always go according to plan, even when you don’t have much of a plan to begin with. Last night should have been a good time, but I wound up sitting alone in a bar, feeling sorry for myself. I hear what you’re thinking: what else is new? Well, things got worse after that, so I drank more, and maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. I don’t know, still feeling blue today, but I’m fixin’ (man, those years down south left a mark) to put it all behind me and see if tonight turns out to be worth remembering.

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, Paula, the Snackbar owner, was celebrating her birthday, and her loyal customers would help her make the day as special as she is. My initial plan was to show up around four, head to Alaska Club for the SOB at five, and then return to Snackbar afterward. But I changed my mind and decided to skip the SOB and just enjoy the birthday party vibe.

I arrived early, expecting I’d spend some time with Lydell, but she was otherwise occupied. I talked to some other folks, and then the tiny bar (most of which is seating outside at tables in the parking lot) began to fill up. I went to use the restroom, and when I returned, the waitress had seated several strangers joining me at my small table. Eh, I understand at a crowded event with limited seating, you can’t expect to have prime territory for your exclusive use. Still, interacting with strangers is not my nature, so I moved to a less desirable location. And as I sat there, my mood darkened until I reached the point where I didn’t want to be there anymore. So, I wished Paula a happy birthday again and left. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do next, but I knew it would involve beer.

As I approached Alaska Club, I saw people outside signing up for the SOB. I approached the table and saw that there had only been a dozen or so admissions so far, so I figured I could still get a good seat. I paid my 700 pesos and went inside.

My favorite spot was already taken, which was no surprise, but the waitress sat me on a small couch (big enough for two) along the wall in front of the stage. That’ll work. I usually have someone from the host bar join me for the event (I buy their company with lady drinks), but last night a customer brought all the Alaska girls down from the stage for drinks. That’s okay; I figured my regular Joy (the skinny one with no boobs and stretch marks) would join me after her team danced. She didn’t, though, and so I sat there alone. The storm clouds in my brain continued to darken. I tried to drown the discontent in beer without success.

When the show was over, I left Alaska and stood on the highway thinking, what next? Fuck it; I’ll go back to Snackbar. When I arrived, the party was still in full swing, but I was able to find a seat inside. Lydell had already left but came back when I messaged her, so I was finally able to buy her a drink. I was in big spender mode and bought drinks for several of the other girls as well. And I finally started feeling a little better about things.

And then a drunken guy I know (I’ll call him Earl) came in. He was being loud and obnoxious, which is not unusual for him when he’s been drinking. Earl hadn’t ordered a drink yet, but when the waitress walked by with a half-finished drink from another table, he attempted to grab it from her. I reached out and grabbed it first, and told him if you want a drink, buy one like everyone else. He tried to argue that it was just going to be thrown away, so why not. I told him it didn’t work that way. I guess the argument escalated, although I don’t recall what all was said; eventually, Earl left in a huff. The other customers applauded his departure, and several thanked me for intervening.

I left shortly after that, and when I got home, I saw that he had sent me some messages:

You a bitch

Fucking with me

Suck my dick ass hole

Dont be a prick towards me

Ill fuck you up Bitch

Be peaceful dick head

If you understand peace dick

Apparently, I pissed him off. He didn’t talk so tough in person, though. I sent him this response:

You were being an asshole. If you don’t like it, don’t be an asshole.

This morning I noted that he had deleted all his tough guy words to me. No apology, though. Fuck him; I don’t need that kind of drama in my life anyway. Normally, I can’t be baited into those types of confrontations, but it was just one of those nights for me for some reason.

So, that’s how my day ended. It started out much better with a hike in the Bolon Falls area out in the hills on the far side of Subic town. We only had three folks show up for the Friday group, so once again, Scott volunteered to drive us to some rarely-visited areas. We were last out that way over a year ago. A couple of moderate climbs and several get-your-feet-wet creek crossings, but still quite nice overall. We also passed through an Aeta (native Filipino) village, which I always find quite fascinating for some reason. Very friendly and smiling, despite living in abject poverty.

And it turned out to be the best part of the day.

Or at least pretending like I am.

One of the girls I know called me “lucky” the other day. I responded that I had worked hard all my life so I could be lucky. But yeah, I understand her point. I don’t have to worry day to day about paying for the essentials. I was blessed to be born in the USA, where you have a better opportunity to improve your circumstances through hard work, determination, and perseverance. And yeah, maybe a little luck along the way too. But I was born poor, well, I guess working class, in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. The kids all made fun of my hand-me-down clothes and the old run-down house we lived in. But it doesn’t matter how you start; it’s where you finish that counts. And here I am, living in paradise like a rich man. I’ll call that a win.

So, when I saw that chart above, I was curious where my full-time employee fit on the income scale: “low income but not poor”. Of course, that is based on salary alone, she also gets free lodging and eats on my dime, so I’d guess that makes her almost middle class. I know now that the salary I’m paying is way above normal for a domestic helper/caregiver. Still, she does good work and has been with me the entire four years I’ve lived here, so she’s worth it.

But as rich as I am, there are some things I just can’t afford. I was perusing the frozen meats at Royal supermarket yesterday and experienced a severe case of sticker shock when I saw this:

The signage says it is beef from Japan. I don’t know anyone who could afford to pay that price, in their right mind or not. And you’d have to be crazy to spend that kind of money for 14 kgs of meat. Something ain’t right. I’ll check again next week to see if they are still there or if the price has been changed.

The women I know all seem to recognize my richness. Another day, another request for emergency funding. At least the story last night was original and mildly interesting. And honestly, 5,000 pesos here and 5000 there do add up. I’ve been exceeding my charity budget these past few months, so I’m going to have to toughen up again and strictly enforce Rule #1 (don’t be a sucker). Wish me luck with that!

Luckily, I’ve got plenty of cash for my other nighttime pursuits, which primarily consist of alcohol consumption. I honestly don’t usually pay attention to the cost of an individual drink. I mean, if a beer is 60 pesos or 80 pesos, it is not that big a deal. But this new gin and soda routine has been shockingly expensive. What I’ve been doing is buying a shot of gin and a can of soda water. That allows me to moderate the strength of the drink and reduce the speed of alcohol consumption. In Blue Butterfly last night, my shot of gin was 90 pesos, and the can of soda water was 120 pesos. That’s more expensive than a lady drink, so I jokingly asked my waitress if I would be receiving a commission on my beverage. All kidding aside though, the difference between paying a buck fifty for a beer and over four dollars for a gin drink adds up pretty quickly. Still, I can afford it, so I’m not really complaining. Much. I do try to keep it in perspective by reminding myself that I was paying around seven bucks for a beer back in Korea. So, it’s all relative.

I met the girl who needed cash at John’s place last night. We shared an order of Korean-style wings. She had beer, and I had gin. When she finished her tale of woe, I told her I’d give her some cash the next day. Then she wanted to join me on my bar hop. I hadn’t been planning on that, and for some reason, it bugged me. I finally relented to the extent that I’d join her at Blue Butterfly, a place where she had previously worked.

When we got there, she was given a warm greeting by all the girls and the manager. I guess she had been a very popular member of the team. We had more drinks, and she asked me to buy one for the manager, and I agreed. I was taken aback again when she told me she wanted to be my girlfriend, and I kept rejecting her. That I seem like a nice guy, but I’m cold-hearted. I didn’t have much to say in response other than it just wasn’t a good time for me.

What’s weird is that she was the third woman this week who strongly suggested interest in being in a relationship with me. And despite my persistent whining here about being lonely, those feelings weren’t mutual. I’m not saying I’ll never give any of them a shot; it is just that something doesn’t feel right for me at this moment in time. Or maybe I’ve just made the transition to a solitary existence, and I’m not willing to give that up. It seems strange, though, and so unlike me.

I told my wannabe girlfriend goodnight and left her at Blue Butterfly with her friends. I had a couple more drinks at Cheap Charlies, then tried a new place up the highway called Sloppy Joe’s. They’ve expanded since my last visit to include indoor tables and several large-screen televisions. I sat outside to watch the world go by instead. They did have a nice buy one/get one promo with your first drink, so I did two for the price of one, then headed to the sanctuary I call home.

My deadline for leaving the country is rapidly approaching, and I will have to decide soon on whether to get jabbed. Stay tuned.

Rained throughout the night and into the morning, but ’tis the season. It didn’t stop me from walking today and won’t prevent me from going out tonight. A rich man has got to live large after all, right?

Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
Say... Women... they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean... you'll know, you'll know

Just one of those nights, I suppose. Or maybe one too many. I was once again disappointed to observe that the people around me were not really my friends. But mostly, I was disappointed in myself for foolishly trying to believe otherwise. I ought to be smarter than that by now.

So, I had been looking forward to attending Jerlyn’s birthday party at Alley Cats. With my ongoing darts hiatus, it has been a couple of weeks since I last visited the bar. Jerlyn had sent me a message asking me to come to her party, and I felt good about that. I baked up a batch of my brownies that the girls always seem to enjoy and also stopped by Kamto to get some chicken takeout for the party.

I arrived at Alley, handed the food to Jerlyn, and wished her a happy birthday. She thanked me and then left to add my contribution to the food table. She was gone for a while, but when she finally came by my table, I offered her a lady drink. She curtly told me she already had one. Alrighty then.

I sat back quietly sipping my beer and observing the goings-on around me. It was Saturday evening, and so the regular dart crowd was in attendance. Billy asked if I was playing, and I told her no. Annabel asked if I would sponsor her entry fee, so I gave her the 100 pesos she needed to play. I’d been coming to Alley Cats at least a couple of times a week since moving here. People I’ve known over these past four years, with just a couple of exceptions, didn’t have a thing to say to me, not even a welcome back. Yeah, I felt like a stranger in what used to be my home bar. I did wallow in some self-pity, but mostly it was an eye-opener to realize I meant next to nothing to these people.

The birthday song was sung, the candles were blown out, the food was served buffet-style, and then the tournament began. Jerlyn never returned for the drink I had offered her, and my beer bottle was empty. I had prepared an envelope with a 1000 peso note as a birthday present for Jerlyn. Feeling peeved, I discreetly replaced that bill with a 500. Yeah, I can be a vindictive dick like that. No wonder no one likes me. I handed her the envelope, she thanked me, and I left.

Well, that didn’t go as planned. Had been looking forward to a good time with “friends” and left feeling borderline depressed. Luckily, there were other places I could go to self-medicate. I had a couple of “buy one, take one” drink coupons for Alaska Club, so I made that my next stop.

When I arrived, Karen, the waitress I had been crushing on, was at the door to greet me. I sat down at a table near the stage, and Karen brought me a San Mig Zero. Then she disappeared. That’s okay; I had already given up on her. I was interested in getting to know the dancer I had met at the SOB the week before. And sure enough, Marissa was one of the four gals on stage. I couldn’t get her attention, though, because she was busy trying to play with her phone when bar owner Jerry wasn’t looking. There was just me and one other customer, so I guess she figured doing her job wasn’t worth the effort. Her loss, because one of my coupons was for lady drinks. In a fit of pique, I called down one of the other dancers to drink with me, turning my back on Marissa forever. Silly girl.

Needless to say, my mood hadn’t improved much. I decided to try and change my luck at Outback. Bought my bartender friend Bhel a drink, exchanged greetings with the new waitress, and watched some music videos on the big screen TV over the bar. I was feeling bored after a couple of beers and decided to see what was happening up the road.

Walking past Kamto, I didn’t see anyone I knew, so I kept on going until I reached Snackbar. They weren’t busy either, but I enjoyed the “friendly” company of the waitresses. At least they put some effort into earning their drink commissions. And laughing at my bad jokes must be hard work! I guess all those beers were starting to kick in, or maybe it was pretending that these lovely young ladies actually liked me, but my mood had improved considerably. Then I got a message from my friend at Kamto expressing a desire for my presence, so I walked the one block back up the highway. Waitress Lyndell joined me (both places have the same owner, and the staff moves back and forth as needed) and even held my drunken hand as we walked. That’s sweet.

I stayed up an hour or so past my bedtime drinking with the Kamto crew and had a pleasant time. But my judgment was not impaired to the point of doing anything I might regret later, so I grabbed a trike for home.

The VFW event was all about increasing awareness of our veterans who suffer from PTSD and other service-related psychological disorders. I was surprised when I was told they were not accepting donations; that wasn’t the purpose of the gathering. Well, glad to step it up for our vets on my first ever “rucksack hike.”

We were told the trail was just under 6K and mostly flat. Sounds about my speed, and in fact, I found it to be no challenge at all. Left the VFW, went up to Alta Vista, down to Marian Hills, then back the way we came to the VFW. I walk that loop all the time, so it was pretty dull. I didn’t bother returning to the VFW, I just stayed in Alta Vista on the way back. I had that disastrous party to prepare for.

Here are a few pics:

And that was how my Saturday went down. I’m letting go of the bad feelings, keeping a positive attitude, and recognizing that I’m in control of my life. If there are aspects I’m not satisfied with, it is on me to make any necessary changes. It’s all going to be fine.

Then again, on the other hand:

Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions
I keep my visions to myself
It's only me
Who wants to wrap around your dreams and...
Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?

While I was walking yesterday, I passed two old men engaged in a game of chess. I’m not sure why, but it triggered a chain of thoughts on what life is really all about. I suppose it is no great insight that so much of our time on earth is nothing more than filling in the hours of every day. The manner in which we do so pretty much defines who and what we are. During our working life, a goodly portion of the day is filled with earning a living. Having a job or career that is satisfying makes a difference, but feeding the family has its own kind of worthiness, regardless of whether you like your job or not. It’s those other hours outside of work or sleep that give meaning to this thing we call life.

As I said, nothing new or astounding in these thoughts, but I did look back at how I’ve lived those hours. I recalled as a youngster playing board games like Monopoly and Risk. I also learned to play chess, but that was never a passion. As a teenager and young adult, I was big-time into softball and racquetball. And, of course, there were those years when I escaped into a drug-fueled fantasy world. I learned to ski, liked to camp out, and take cross country drives. The responsibilities of being a parent took their share of time as well. It was nice to look back and reflect on ways I’ve filled in time throughout my life.

Naturally, that led me to thinking about how I spend the hours in my old age. I don’t really ponder so much about how having less life ahead of you than behind you matters or makes each hour somehow more precious. Retirement affords the opportunity to expend time the way you want rather than dancing to the whims of your employer. The question arises, though, am I using them wisely? As my regular readers know, I spend my days engaged in walking, drinking, darting, and pursuing ill-fated romances. I guess I spend a fair amount of time here on the internet as well. Hopefully, as the scamdemic draws to a close, I’ll be able to once again invest some time in travel adventures. Is that enough? It is for me, at least for now.

That doesn’t mean you can’t change things up now and again. The desire for something new led me to forego my typical Saturday night in Barretto. Instead, I walked the 4K out to Calapadayan for the soft opening of a new outdoor bar called Poseidon. Heh, you knew I wasn’t going to not drink beer, didn’t you?

It was definitely a nice change of pace. Too far out to be a regular stop for me, but I had a good time and won’t hesitate to drop in when I’m in the area.

Alright, I’m running out of time. Need to get to It Doesn’t Matter before the raffle. I’ll be back with more tomorrow!

Here we go again.

Too soon to assess what I feel about Lyn so far. No fireworks, bells, or whistles; but no big red flags either. She arrived at my door at lunchtime and was hungry, so I walked her down to Sit-n-Bull for some lunch.

After lunch, Lyn waited patiently while my bakla barber gave me a haircut. Lyn said he/she did a good job. We next visited the 7/11 where I bought her some glue to repair the shoes she’ll be hiking in later this morning.

We took a trike back home and then took a nap after consummating our new relationship, such as it is. I only tend to nap for an hour or so, but she was still sleeping at 5:00, so I had to wake her up. Didn’t want to have to walk into town in the dark.

I was going to start off the evening at the Central Park Reef hotel so she could see the view from the rooftop there. She reminded me that she had been there with the woman who introduced us on her last visit. Okay then, never mind. We crossed the highway again and I took her to my overall favorite bar, It Doesn’t Matter. I had my usual Zero beer, and she ordered a margarita. I was a little surprised when she told me she doesn’t like beer and doesn’t drink much alcohol either. In fact, that margarita lasted the length of our entire visit (four beers for me).

A bit of a hiccup at first, when one of my favorites at IDM, Agnes, came over and started getting all cuddly with me. I saw a familiar look on Lyn’s face and really didn’t blame her, so I told Agnes I was on a date and she needed to back off. She did switch into waitress mode right away and there was no problem after.

Lyn is really into billiards, so I told her to go inside the bar which features two pool tables, and find a game. That’s what she did, playing against one of the waitresses. I checked in periodically and she really is a good player. In fact, she told me the waitress wasn’t much of a challenge. It was getting close to dinner time, so I said I’d take her to another place with a pool table and we’d eat there.

Next stop, John’s place.

It was getting close to 9:00, and that’s my bedtime, so we caught a trike home. Or thought we did. The driver passed by the entrance to Alta Vista, saying he needed to buy gas. I was thinking, WTF? Why pick up passengers on an empty tank? There was also a line of vehicles waiting to fuel up, so I said fuck it, we’ll get out here and catch another trike. In doing so, we had to pass through a fully manned police checkpoint. It hasn’t been a problem lately, but last night the cops said “where’s your facemask?” In my pocket where it belongs is how I answered in my head, but instead, I pulled my mask out like a good sheep and started putting it on. They asked Lyn too, but she hadn’t even brought one with her. She said she forgot and would get one at the 7/11 next door and they let us pass. Of course, I unmasked as soon as we were past them. We caught a trike and made it home without further incident.

I made us a mango/banana/pineapple smoothie for dessert which Lyn seemed to enjoy. Then it was off to bed–for sleep. Once a day for this old man is enough.

We are doing the Friday group hike together this morning so I wanted to dash off a quick report on our first day together. She’s still sleeping.

I’m not sure where I’m going or what I expect. I’ll try and figure that out as I experience more shared time with her. Oddly enough, I came across a post I wrote in 2017 where I quoted these words from Kevin Kim:

The Hindu concept of life is that it’s a painful wheel of existence called samsara.We’re chained to this repetitive, revolving wheel through our actions (karma). The object of the game is to gain enough wisdom about the nature of things so as to escape an eternity of repeating the wheel of life-events, again and again, all thanks to our accidental or deliberate unwisdom. Good luck as you examine deep causes and do your best to find liberation from the wheel (moksha) and bliss in your life (ananda). Every day is a new chance to walk a different path!

Here’s hoping this experience is better than my last one. Maybe not feeling that “love thing” like I did for the ex is the best course for me. We’ll see.