As I related in yesterday’s post, I rented a room for the homeless woman I call “mama”. The first month’s rent and a security deposit set me back 6000 pesos ($120.). A small price to pay to make a difference in someone’s life and I was happy to do it.
Late in the afternoon yesterday, I headed out for some liquid refreshment at Cheap Charlies. And lo and behold, mama was sitting under her ever-present umbrella right outside the stairs to the bar. I gave her the good news and told her to stick around for a bit. I contacted my Filipina friend who had found the place and asked her to join us. Once she arrived she contacted the woman getting extra keys made so we could take mama home. Soon enough, we were all in a trike on the way to Baloy beach.
Upon arrival, we showed mama her new place, demonstrated how the lock worked and where to turn on the lights. We also told her that in the morning we’d come back with a bed cushion, a shower curtain, a fan, and anything else needed for her comfort. My friend told her she would help give the place a good scrubbing as well. Then we invited mama to join us for dinner.
Mama at the dinner table. In retrospect, she does look a little pensive.
Dinner conversation was light and mostly in Tagalog. I did learn that mama is 68 and was very popular back in the days when Subic was a regular port of call for the US Navy. I think I heard her say that at some point she was married to a Marine. After we ate, we walked back to mama’s new place. I wanted to be sure she could open the door and turn on the light (you have to plug it in before hitting the switch). She managed that just fine and so we reminded her we’d be back in the morning to fix the place up some and said our goodnights.
On the way out, we saw Gerlie, mama’s new neighbor and a friend of mine. She invited us to join her for a beer, so we sat on her porch and enjoyed a cold one. Before I finished that beer, the words Kevin Kim left in a comment on an earlier post echoed in my brain:
Keep in mind that many homeless folks get so used to living on the street that, when they’re gifted with lodging, they fail to maintain their domicile and/or abandon it completely. Some habits are too deeply ingrained, and for the benefactor, the whole thing becomes a waste of money and time. I suspect that “mama” will need some constant supervision if this project is to go well and smoothly.
Back in my more bleeding-heart days, I did a lot of work with the homeless in the DC-Metro area. There’re tons of homeless folks in and around my hometown of Alexandria, Virginia. Most of them have some sort of mental/psychological condition, which is what often compels them to fuck up a good thing. As much as I’m a believer in free will and personal responsibility, I know that some compulsions are powerful and extremely hard to beat (viz. me and overeating). They CAN be beaten, but it takes time, effort, focus, and the care/support of other people to help one along.
Upshot: I’m not optimistic that giving “mama” a home will solve whatever you perceive her problems to be. I mean, I might be totally wrong, but experience and instinct both whisper that I’m probably right.
A few minutes after we left her, mama walked up and held out the key to me saying “I can’t do the lock”. I said I’ll help you with that and she responded “no, I don’t want.” I told her to keep her key (I’d put it on a necklace so she wouldn’t lose it), I’d use my key to lock up for her. She repeated, “no, I don’t want.” You don’t want to sleep there, I asked? “No, papa.” Why don’t you try it for a few days and see? “No papa, I don’t want.” She handed me the key and walked away. Alright, then.
Okay, I figured it was a 50-50 chance it wouldn’t work out. But I was surprised she didn’t even want to give it a chance. Granted, it’s a pretty crappy room, but still, you’d think it would be better than sleeping on the street. Apparently not, at least in mama’s tortured mind. Kevin’s thinking proved to be spot-on; sometimes the people you think you are helping don’t want to be helped. And really, one of the things I have always admired about mama was that she seems genuinely happy whenever I see her. Perhaps I was foolish to think I could make things better for her. Although in my defense, she did tell me when I asked that she would like a place of her own. Heh, maybe she was thinking it would be fancier. Who knows? I don’t regret trying. And if any of my readers are looking for an inexpensive place to stay close to the beach, let me know!
My dreams of upgrading my own accommodations hit a snag when the agent for that house I like advised that the owner was not interested in renting it out, only selling. Oh well. I do think I’ll email the owner directly and ask, the agent has a financial interest in making a sale. The owner might find a long-term lease more attractive than a house that has been sitting vacant for over a year now. We’ll see.
The day wasn’t a total loss though. I had a nice 8K solitary walk in the morning. I did that 1000 step photo thing again:
Buday, my step-dog (she adopted me) greeted me as I left the house.1000 steps in and Easter mountain looms large.2000 steps as I exit Marian Hills…3000 steps and I see a shell.4000 steps and I admire the perseverance of those less fortunate than I.5000 steps and I’m on Sawmill road…6000 steps is a field of dreams.7000 steps going over the river…8000 steps going home…9,000 steps–but not this one.
You can Relive that walk here if you are so inclined.
https://www.relive.cc/view/vxOQroYJN26
And here we are with another Hash Monday upon us. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare and he has a 7.5K trail lined up. I will be short-cutting at my discretion, but I am walking to the start which adds about 3K,. So, subtracting one of those hills should even things out some.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned that fine line between helping someone in need and being scammed that exists here. It’s actually more than that–generosity is often seen as evidence that you are stupid and ripe to be taken advantage of. I’m learning these hard lessons as I go and I am getting somewhat better at saying “no” these days. When I get the pleas about not having rent money or no food for the kids instead of feeling sympathy I’m more likely to ask “and why is it my responsibility to take care of that?” It’s an ongoing process though and I guess it comes with the territory when you are perceived as being “rich”, which I guess comparatively speaking, I am. I just don’t want to be an example of a fool and his money soon being parted.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I derive satisfaction from engaging in charitable activities. In fact, I’ve made the connection that giving for me satisfies an aspect of my selfish nature. Helping someone out tends to alleviate some of the guilt that comes with living large amongst those who have so little. And as regular readers know, some of my giving has come with a transactional quid pro quo element–I do for you and you do for me. Lately though, I don’t find those arrangements quite so satisfying. Maybe that’s progress of a sort.
I guess what prompted these reflections are several recent entreaties that I dispense with some cash in the service of others’ needs. The most egregious came last night in the form of a message from Jhen. I was quite surprised to hear from her as this was the first time she had contacted me since last July. Back then she was starting her college course work remotely due to the pandemic and she needed a laptop. I told that story in a post here. To recap briefly, I needed a new computer anyway and told her I’d give her my old piece of shit. Well, acquiring my upgraded unit took longer than anticipated and Jhen was desperate because classes were starting. So, I bought her a new laptop ($400.00). When it was delivered I invited her over to pick it up and had planned a lunch and movie afternoon. When she arrived though she said she couldn’t stay. Just took the computer and left. Jhen did send a couple of messages telling me how much she loved the computer and thanking me. And that’s the last time I heard from her. Until last night:
Jhenny sent Yesterday at 5:29 PM
Im not ok John…i hope you you understand me and not thingking that im taking advantage your kindness for so long not hearing from me…but i need to take my chance….and pls hear my story first
I got pregnant just the school started…unexpected cause never been pregnant for so long….i gave birth to premature son last sunday…so broke he’s 32weeks and currently incubator with oxygen….we got helps but its not enough because he needs 3 to 4weeks under observation….i need your help John…im sorry but i need to take any chances for my son’s life…..
Im dying everyday knowing my son is fighting his life in the incubator…i got complete medical records…again im sorry John but i dont have a choice….
What to do, what to do? I don’t think she’s lying about the baby. Still, I shared her story with a mutual friend (also a Filipina). Her response was: “you do know she’s married, right?” Um, no. I didn’t know that. Jhen’s marital status never came up during all the previous flirtatious chats we had between us. I know this for a fact because this morning I went back and read them all starting one year ago and never once did she mention having a husband. And then I did the math–even if the baby was born prematurely last week she knew or should have known she was pregnant at the time she was beseeching me for a laptop. That really makes me feel like a sucker. So, as sorry as I feel for her situation and as much as I hope the baby recovers, it ain’t my responsibility to pay the hospital bills. Take it up with your hubby, Jhen.
As if to underscore how I must be perceived, this morning I got a message from Reyna, a girl I’ve chatted with briefly through a dating site, and she begged me for some financial support because her cousin died. Well, that’s an easy one for me. I have a pretty firm rule that I NEVER send cash to anyone I’ve not met in person. I just block them and go on with my life. No big loss there.
Well, on Friday I did give money ($60.00) to someone I don’t know. An acquaintance (Irene, the woman I buy my meat from) contacted me asking if I knew anyone looking for a maid. I didn’t but said I was still looking to hire a replacement masseuse. She advised that her friend didn’t have any massage training. Oh well. Irene then explained that her friend was desperate because she had no money to feed her kids. I told Irene that if she was vouching for the validity of her friend’s needs, I would make a one-time donation on her behalf. I guess she talked to her friend and then relayed the message that her friend was willing to come and service whatever needs I might have (hint hint) in lieu of a massage. Hold on to your seats, dear readers: I declined the offer. To begin, this woman is a complete stranger to me (Irene did share a picture of her though–she’s fairly attractive), and I’m just not into getting intimate with someone I don’t know. That’s why I like the massage route–it is a legitimate way to be physical and if the chemistry is right, you can go from there. The other problem I had was that the money was allegedly for the purpose of feeding her family. It didn’t feel right to me to expect or accept something physical in return for my charitable donation. I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into me! Is this leopard actually changing his spots?
Or maybe I’ve just learned Rule #1 left by Kevin Kim in the comments of the post linked above:
…remember Rule #1: don’t be a sucker when women come a-pleading. You won’t be making any real difference that way; you’re just a corpse being plucked at by crows. Making a difference should be about proceeding from a sense of self-worth, i.e., from a position of strength and dignity; it shouldn’t be about trying to find a sense of self-worth. You’re already worthy, good sir, so don’t turn your gestures of charity into a subtle form of begging.
In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered; “But I like it “Because it is bitter, “And because it is my heart.”
Stephan Crane
A challenging night of darts last night. I teamed up with Billy, one of the top players, but we both struggled early on. Kevin and Troy, a solid team but one we should have beaten, knocked us into the losers bracket. We fought our way back against some other tough opponents, before meeting Kevin and Troy again in the semi-finals. This time we managed to secure a victory setting us up for a showdown with Cristy and Gerlie for the championship. Cristy is currently the strongest darter in Barretto and Gerlie is no slouch. We had our work cut out for us and almost miraculously I finally started throwing some decent darts. We needed them to play it out all the way to the final leg of the second match. And we won!
It was a great finish and perhaps my last hurrah.
During the evening some of the dreaded darts drama reared its ugly head. Nothing related to the tourney, rather some people were complaining about a decision I made regarding the singles league. I’d been drinking of course which does reduce my ability to tolerate bullshit so I might have overreacted a bit. But I take personal attacks, well, personally. And when someone doesn’t like something I’ve done, I’m fine with agreeing to disagree. It’s over the line though to accuse me of being “unfair” when the decision I made was predicated on fairness.
In a nutshell, here’s what happened: A player quit midway through the season, which is a chickenshit thing to do to begin with. So, I needed a replacement and offered the spot to Espie who I promised could have the next opening. Now, the guy who quit was ranked last in the league. Espie is a very solid player, certainly capable of holding her own in the top tier. I was in the process of splitting our 12 players into two divisions and placed Espie in the higher group. It seemed to me that letting her play in the lower division which she would likely dominate wouldn’t be fair to that group. I did reach out to the 6th ranked player and asked if he was willing to play in the lower division rather than the spot he had earned in the top division. He readily agreed. And so it was done. And several players proceeded to attack me and my decision. I went home pissed, slept it off, woke at 2:00 a.m. unable to go back to sleep thinking about it so I posted this on our league Facebook page:
AN ANNOUNCEMENT As most of you know, we had a player quit the league at the end of Round 1. The league format works best with an even number of players so I needed a replacement. Espie had asked to join the league at the beginning of the season but I already had 12 players. I told her she would be at the top of the waiting list. For this reason, I invited her to join the league for Round 2 Divisional play.
The player who quit finished last in Round 1. As you know, Espie is a very strong player. In my opinion, she would have an unfair advantage playing in the lower division. I asked the player who finished 6th in Round 1 and qualified for the upper division if he would object to playing in the lower division. He told me he did not have a problem with that. So I thought we were set and made the schedule and spreadsheets for Round 2 with Espie in the top division.
I have now heard from several of you that my decision to do so was unfair. I admit I was shocked to hear this. The whole purpose of Round 1 was to establish competitive divisions based on a player’s performance during Round 1. In my opinion, Espie is a much stronger player than the one who quit and belongs in the upper tier. If I’m wrong about that it is unfair to Espie, not the other players in the league. Again, to allow a stronger player to dominant the lower division is unfair to those players in my view.
I first founded this singles league format over 10 years ago. I have run the league in the USA and Korea. In Seoul, we had four divisions and 32 players. The intent of the league has always been to have fun in a competitive environment while improving our darting skills. This is the first time I’ve ever been accused of being unfair.
Therefore, I am resigning from the league. Espie can replace me which should be “fair” to everyone. I will leave it to the players to find a replacement for the vacancy in the Champs division.
I will continue to update the stats for the remainder of the season unless there is an objection to my doing so.
Good luck and shoot well.
You know, running a league is a pain in the ass under the best circumstances. I had avoided starting one after my move here because I didn’t want the headaches and hassles. But I know it really helps people improve their skills and strategies and I thought I should make a contribution to our darting community. I wasn’t looking for a thank you, but damn, I wasn’t expecting a fuck you either.
So, as of now, I’m taking a break. From the league, from tourneys, from the darts scene in general and the people who populate it. I certainly don’t want to be perceived as unfair so I think it is for the best. On the bright side, it is always a good thing when folks reveal what they truly think about you.
UPDATE: Wow! I feel vindicated:
Espie’s first match in Singles League against the top player in Barretto. She more than held her own and look at those marks! A 160 -In is pro-level. Can you imagine the shitstorm if I had allowed her to play in the lower division? Hell, she would have likely gone undefeated.
Today marks the tenth anniversary of my mother’s passing. No great insights to share–everything changes, yet life goes on for those of us left behind. Perhaps being remembered is enough. My love for you will live on as long as I do.
Bonnie Rose before she was known as mom.With her second-born son. The special one!I made her a grandmother for the first time.She loved my dad for over 50 years.A mom and her sons.Mom with her sisters for the final time. The last picture I ever took of her.
You will always be missed by those who loved you.
Meanwhile, in the world of the living, I changed things up some and drank my beers at Palm Tree yesterday.
It’s right next door to Mangos. I actually stayed here on my last trip to the Philippines as a tourist.The bar is on the second floor with a nice balcony overlooking the beach.
This morning I decided to make supper for breakfast.
The ribeye, while thin, was so tender I could almost pull it apart with my fork. I think I’ve mastered the searing process too as the meat was juicy and medium-rare on the inside.
I guess I’m in a beachy kind of mood as I decided to take a morning stroll to Baloy.
Well, in the event of a tsunami I’m already ideally located in the evacuation area–Alta Vista. Ain’t nowhere to run from an earthquake though.Once you get past the resorts, Baloy Beach Road is almost serene.Some nice bay views this morning…With the weekend crowds gone the beach felt almost deserted.
We’ve got the Hash this afternoon. The new starting time is officially 2:30, but I and a few others are going to head out an hour earlier. That should get us back On-Home before all the beer is gone. I’ll let y’all know how that goes tomorrow.
Now, should I take a nap or exercise? Hmm, perhaps I’ll do both!
At least, that’s what it felt like. Bending over to pick up my shorts yesterday morning and felt this sharp pain in my lower back. Not sure what I did or what I injured, but damn, it periodically hurts like a motherfucker. Never experienced anything quite like it. I’m stiff when I first stand up, but after I walk a bit I’m practically pain-free. That’s a good thing. But last night when I was trying to sleep I’d suffer immense pain whenever I rolled over to the left. Same stabbing pain when I tried to get up to pee. It seems marginally better today so I’m hoping whatever this is is running its course. We’ll see.
Changed things up a bit yesterday and started my evening out on Baloy beach. Visited my old-time favorite Treasure Island first. I was disappointed that they didn’t have my preferred beer and frankly the service was sloppy and unfriendly. I decided to eat elsewhere. I also noticed that all my old favorites on staff are now gone. Oh well. I went next door to Da Kudos instead.
Da Kudos is owned by Mango’s and I actually knew my waitress. The menu was also the same as Mango’s, so I ordered up the roast chicken salad. It didn’t disappoint. And neither did the view from my table:
Not bad, eh?
After my meal, I walked out on the beach and this is what I saw:
I may be living a lonely life, but at least I’m living it in paradise.
I guess I got to thinking about that being alone thing. And after a few beers I posted this question on Facebook:
Am I an asshole?
That’s probably not the kind of question that is best posed on social media. But I was just curious why a guy like me found himself dining and drinking alone. Maybe I am an asshole or something similar that people prefer to avoid. The responses to my question came in about 50-50, so maybe there’s hope. I did have to laugh at this response from ex-wife #3:
Well you use to revel in your self-identification as an dick. You were delighted when the Team America movie made an argument for dicks, saying pussies needed them for protection against assholes. So no you are not an asshole. You’re a dick.
Heh. Here’s the clip she was referring to:
Damn, that being drunk in the bar fits too!
My pal Jeremy offered up probably the most thoughtful and heartfelt comment:
John, if you’re not making your intentions known, then all that people are going to see is that youre just the nice old guy. How will anyone expect that you’re looking for something more if you’re not telling them that you’re looking for something more?
Also, dont be the nice, generous guy to everyone. That should be reserved for the people that have a special place in your heart. The rest of the people should be content with friendly, easygoing John. Then, people will take notice of your intentions, and only when that happens will there be the possibility of reciprocation.
Though, before any of that happens, you have to decide if you’re going to buy a ticket. Sure, you’re going to have a lot of losing tickets, but when you hit the jackpot, it’ll all have been worth it. I mean, that’s what my Dad tells me about he lottery, anyway, but I dont think those are his views on love after fifty years of marriage, especially when considering my mom.
You’re a smart guy, John. Not only do you have to periodically examine yourself, but you must always examine the company that you keep. I hope that it works out the way that you want according to whichever way you decide.
Hmm, I’ve heard that advice about changing the company I keep somewhere before. That’s probably the bottom line; if I am indeed an asshole I need to find an asshole-lover to share my life. And until I do I’m better off alone, whether I like it or not.
Anyway, I’ll be alright. It’s my nature to never be satisfied with what I have until it’s gone. Might be time to just suck it up and embrace things as they are and stop lamenting my missed opportunities. Scary that a man my age is still trying to figure that out.
As long as we are peripherally talking about my indiscretions on Facebook, this might be pertinent:
That cracked me up.
And as a victim of the Facebook “fact-check” process, I liked this one too:
Ain’t it the truth?
Ah well, enough of this nonsense. I’m going to head out for another night of drinking alone. Hey, it’s what I do!
Another adventurous hike with the Wednesday walking group yesterday. We traveled out to Bataan, the province next door on the other side of the old Navy base. Our destination was the tower atop Mount Santa Rita.
These days the property serves as a weather observatory of some sort and is controlled by the Philippine military. We needed special permission to enter and make the hike. Our planned adventure proved to be quite popular, with over 30 folks signing up, including a contingent from Angeles City.
Alright, so what was I thinking to take on this trail barely a week after the nearly disastrous hike to Boton Falls on the old Navy base? Well, the situation was quite a bit different. I mean we were hiking up a paved road, there and back again. So there would be no getting lost, no sticker bushes, no stinging ants. I likened it to my days back in Korea when I’d make the climb up to Seoul Tower on pavement.
Easy, peasy. Right, Kevin Kim?
It turns out I was wrong about that. To begin, Mount Santa Rita is twice as high as Namsan. And the road leading up there was much steeper than I imagined it would be. It was 4.5K to the top, with the last 2K being at a 20% or so grade. It kicked my ass and there was some real question in my mind if I were going to be able to make it all the way up. In the end, pride would not let me bail before reaching the objective, but man oh man, were my lungs screaming. I’ve been struggling with uphills quite a bit lately but this prolonged ordeal felt like it was going to kill me. I’m not sure what the deal is, but I suspect my diminished lung capacity is not supplying enough oxygen to my poor old leg muscles. Anyway, I made it and I have the pictures to prove it.
But before I get to that I did have an interesting encounter on the hike. I noticed some of these alongside the road and there was something oddly familiar about them:
I got a better look and could make out the writing on top: Ray-O-Lite.
In the summer of 1972, I worked for the Rayolite company at their plant in Huntington Beach, California. Remembering that fact reminded me about a co-worker named Lisa I had a big crush on. I took her on one date, a Crosby, Stills, and Nash concert. Turns out she had a crush too, just not with me. Ah, well. Story of my as yet unlived life, right? In a sort of epilogue to that unrequited love about four years later I was a mailman in Anaheim and delivered to her house one day. Her mama told me Lisa had married her crush. I hope she had a happily ever after with him.
The other thought I had was that I may have actually had a hand in making those reflective markers. I mean, I’m sure they were installed back in the Navy days. And when I worked there they were a relatively new product line. So, it is possible that me and that Ray-O-Lite were together once again after all these years. Prove me wrong!
Anyway, remembering all that helped me forget my suffering a bit as I made my way up the mountain. Let’s go to the photos, shall we? (As usual, these photos are a group effort. Scott pulls them all together from several sources, cleans them up, then posts them on our Facebook page. Some are mine, but I steal them from there too.)
The path we took to the top.Gathering up at the rendezvous point for our 10:00 a.m. start. That’s a pretty impressive vape cloud if I do say so myself.After marching up the road a kilometer or so, we had to get signed in at a military checkpoint. Then two soldiers accompanied us for the rest of the hike. And we are off!Our two guides for the hike.Our objective is in sight but still oh so far away…As usual, I fell further and further behind. A couple of the gals felt sorry for me I think and stayed back to keep an eye on me.Damn, it doesn’t even look that much closer and I’m panting and drenched in sweat.One disappointment was that there were not many vistas to enjoy on the way up. But we found this one and it gave me the opportunity to rest a little without appearing to be a wimp.I definitely have a crush on this cutie named Marick.But I guess I’m still looking for love in all the wrong places…It was impossible to be the last to arrive discreetly. I had an audience. But by God, I made it!Not so high and mighty now are you, bitch?Only 1551 feet? It sure as hell felt like I was climbing Everest… That fence also interfered with the views. Damn it!If you were willing to do some more climbing you could improve the views.It was kind of a hazy day though.The high and the mighty…Looking down on the rest of us…Isn’t that right, Scott?There’s some pretty scenery!Our fearless group of hikers!Alright then, time to head back down the mountain.As you might imagine, going back down was oh so much easier. The asphalt was covered in algae in places though so you had to be careful not to slip…And I wasn’t even last to make it down!Even had time to stop and smell the flowers…
Well, I did it. Another monster hike and I lived to tell about it.
Felt as old and faded as this post when I was done though.
Here it is New Year’s Eve. Guess I’ll go out and do a bar crawl and see how long I last. I know it won’t be midnight though. But who knows, maybe I’ll fall in love with someone.
I’m willing to make that commitment! If the price is right.
Happy New Year everyone! I’ll be back with a full report on tonight’s adventures tomorrow.
That’s my life. And upon reflection, it’s good. Not all good and not all the time, but better than I might have hoped for. Or perhaps deserved. So, what triggered my bout of self-analysis to reach these not so profound conclusions? I blame the internet. Here’s what happened:
A question was posed on Quora: “What is something you wish you had known sooner?” And this was the featured answer:
I’m 77. I created four successful businesses, married two beautiful women (one at a time) have two great sons, and retired at 49. My life has been full. And it really doesn’t matter – none of it. I wish I’d known that in the beginning – that it all wouldn’t matter. I beat myself up most of my life trying to accomplish success and I could have had a much easier time of it. I was chasing someone else’s dream, not mine. No 14 hour days, six days out of the week. No heart attacks. No ulcers. No enemies. I could have learned the piano, painted, sculpted, read more books, learned to dance the salsa, had more dogs. At the end of life, and mine is just around the corner, the important stuff is the stuff I didn’t have time for. I can’t speak for all wealthy people, but the ones I know are pretty damn empty. We come into the world naked and we leave pretty much the same way – and there are no “Mulligans”. If you don’t get it right the first time, too bad for you. I’m too old to climb the mountains I always wanted to climb, too old to buy a dog, too old to learn to surf, too old to learn the piano. All the good stuff is behind me. Don’t get stuck in a life that isn’t yours.
Damn. Well, I’m happy to report that I don’t feel that way about my life. I don’t know that I ever really had much of a plan–I just went with the flow and it led me to this here and now. At 65 I may still have a few adventures ahead of me but I don’t expect there will be any life-changing events in store. It is what it is and I’m content to ride it out to its natural conclusion. Granted, I’m in no hurry to get to the end of days but you never know what’s left. I’m certainly not going to waste time wishing for something else.
Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. Sometimes when I am trying to ease myself into sleep mode I’ll engage in some fantasizing. No, not THAT kind, I can always pay to make those come true! I mean the fantasy of going back in time, knowing what I know now, and reliving my life accordingly. I usually imagine returning to various decision points in the past and deciding to do something different. For example, in my do-over life perhaps I’d enlist in the Army after high school. That’s something I never even considered at the time seeing as how I’d just managed to avoid being drafted. But who knows where that might have led me? One thing is for sure, in all these fantasies I end up rich beyond imagination–I’m buying all those IPO tech stocks like Microsoft, Google, and Apple!
So, while I’m in this mode of thinking about altering the past I happen upon an article in The New Yorker“What If You Could Do It All Over?”. Hmm, it seems my fantasy is actually quite popular!
“The thought that I might have become someone else is so bland that dwelling on it sometimes seems fatuous,” the literary scholar Andrew H. Miller writes, in “On Not Being Someone Else: Tales of Our Unled Lives” (Harvard). Still, phrased the right way, the thought has an insistent, uncanny magnetism. Miller’s book is, among other things, a compendium of expressions of wonder over what might have been. Miller quotes Clifford Geertz, who, in “The Interpretation of Cultures,” wrote that “one of the most significant facts about us may finally be that we all begin with the natural equipment to live a thousand kinds of life but end in the end having lived only one.” He cites the critic William Empson: “There is more in the child than any man has been able to keep.” We have unlived lives for all sorts of reasons: because we make choices; because society constrains us; because events force our hand; most of all, because we are singular individuals, becoming more so with time. “While growth realizes, it narrows,” Miller writes. “Plural possibilities simmer down.” This is painful, but it’s an odd kind of pain—hypothetical, paradoxical. Even as we regret who we haven’t become, we value who we are. We seem to find meaning in what’s never happened. Our self-portraits use a lot of negative space…
We may imagine specific unlived lives for ourselves, as artists, or teachers, or tech bros; I have a lawyer friend whose alternate self owns a bar in Red Hook. Or we may just be drawn to possibility itself, as in the poem “The Road Not Taken”: when Robert Frost tells us that choosing one path over the other made “all the difference,” it doesn’t matter what the difference is. Carl Dennis’s poem “The God Who Loves You” tries to make that difference concrete. Dennis poses a question to his protagonist, a middle-aged real-estate agent: “What would have happened / Had you gone to your second choice for college”? A different roommate, a different spouse, a different job: could it all have added up to “a life thirty points above the life you’re living / On any scale of satisfaction”? Only “the god who loves you” knows for sure. It’s an unsettling thought; Dennis suggests that we pity that all-knowing god, “pacing his cloudy bedroom, harassed by alternatives / You’re spared by ignorance.”
Swept up in our real lives, we quickly forget about the unreal ones. Still, there will be moments when, for good or for ill, we feel confronted by our unrealized possibilities; they may even, through their persistence, shape us. Practitioners of mindfulness tell us that we should look away, returning our gaze to the actual, the here and now. But we might have the opposite impulse, as Miller does. He wants us to wander in the hall of mirrors—to let our imagined selves “linger longer and say more.” What can our unreal selves say about our real ones?
Their mere presence in our minds may reveal something about how we live: “Unled lives are a largely modern preoccupation,” Miller writes. It used to be that, for the most part, people lived the life their parents had, or the one that the fates decreed. Today, we try to chart our own courses. The difference is reflected in the stories we tell ourselves. In the Iliad, Achilles chooses between two clearly defined fates, designed by the gods and foretold in advance: he can either fight and die at Troy or live a long, boring life. (In the end, he chooses to fight.) But the world in which we live isn’t so neatly organized. Achilles didn’t have to wonder if he should have been pre-med or pre-law; we make such decisions knowing that they might shape our lives…
Sorry for the long excerpt, but I found the article quite fascinating. Give it a read if you are so inclined.
This got me thinking about those crossroads and decision points I’ve encountered in my own life. The big ones that changed everything like deciding NOT to give my firstborn up for adoption or leaving my Amerian life and making the move to Korea. And the subtle ones, like walking into a bar in Flagstaff, Arizona, that put me on the road to where I am today. Would I change those decisions knowing what I know now? How could I? It would mean losing all that makes me who and what I am. I’ve come up with a workaround in my fantasies to avoid that pitfall; I basically create an alternate universe and my “real” life in this one is unaffected by any changes I pursue in the new universe. Yeah, I have WAY too much time on my hands, don’t I?
So much for looking back, let’s move on to learning. Obviously, I’m an old dog so what new tricks are out there for me to learn? But once again, the internet is here to save the day. Thanks to Althouse I learned a little about Saint Peter Damian, someone I had heretofore never heard of:
“[H]e introduced a more-severe discipline, including the practice of flagellation… Another innovation was that of the daily siesta… Peter often condemned philosophy. He claimed that the first grammarian was the Devil, who taught Adam to decline deus in the plural. He argued that monks should not have to study philosophy, because Jesus did not choose philosophers as disciples, and so philosophy is not necessary for salvation.”
My big takeaway from the above was that Satan was the first grammarian. Which is why we say “the devil is in the details”, right Kevin Kim?
Doing the devil’s work they are!
That’s enough learning for one day I think. So that leaves living.
And without sustenance, life is not possible. I ordered a chicken salad at Palm Tree and it came out looking like this. Pretty shocking, right? But even though I’d never seen a salad drawn and quartered like that, it proved to be quite tasty. I was also impressed that they served it with a whole bottle of ranch dressing instead of the tiny cups I’m used to. Living large sometimes includes dining at home. It had been a while since I made up a batch of burritos. I’m not one to brag, but damn, they were tasty!
Living a healthy life means taking appropriate steps to avoid viral diseases.
I’m by no means an anti-vaxxer, but I have some questions about this one. The kill rate of COVID is so minuscule that I fear the vaccine may be more deadly. Still, I’ll get the damn shot if it restores my freedom to travel.
Speaking of COVID, where did that killer virus originate?
Bought and paid for. And yes, politics are part of life although I’m trying very hard to make their part in mine as small as possible.Yeah, throughout my life the most meaningful moments have been the people I’ve met along the way.
And despite the inevitable ups and downs that come with living, you’ve got to keep your sense of humor and have some laughs. Luckily, I’m a very punny guy!
Don’t worry, be happy!
So, there you have it. Living, learning, and looking back. A philosophy for a lifetime.
At least until the end of days.
Alright, I’ve got that out of my system. We’ll get back to normal around here tomorrow with a report of yesterday’s crazy hike in the jungle. It was a path I should not have taken.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
One of my old smartass putdowns when arguing was that “I’ve forgotten more than you’ll ever know”. I fear that it may actually be coming true, at least the forgetting part. It goes beyond mere absent-mindedness; today I walked out for my hike and forgot to put on my hat. To make that failure even worse, I had gone upstairs earlier for the specific purpose of getting the ballcap I’d forgotten earlier. Took a pee and forgot the hat again.
But what really bothers me is the parts of my life that are just fading away. Last night laying in bed and waiting for sleep to overtake me I started thinking back to my youth on Milton Avenue in Westminster, California. Heh, I remember my address (13892) but what about the friends I grew up with? I remembered some of them, like Rod McClanahan and Darrol McCue who lived on my street. There were other buddies too that I can vaguely recall but some have fallen into a black hole. I remember I drove a friend’s sports car through a brick wall. Yeah, I was high or drunk. Or both.
The car looked like this before the accident. I remember it was a Triumph TR4 but I don’t remember the owner’s name.
There were a lot of empty spots like that in my memory and I found it disconcerting. So it was rather surprising when I got a message from my high school buddy Rod Headlee this morning:
Do you remember who the members of the Ringwraiths softball team were the year we won the championship game two to one?
Are you kidding me? That would have been 1974 and I honestly hadn’t thought of those guys since the turn of the century. [UPDATE: 2010 anyway] Coincidentally, some of the names would have been the same ones I couldn’t remember from the night before. I remembered playing softball of course and our team name but had no recollection of our championship season.
Now, Rod and I are Facebook friends. But his message this morning was the first time I’d heard from him in three years. Last time I saw Rod and his wife Pat was back on New Year’s Day in 2012 on his sailboat in North Carolina. Yep, they live on the boat most of the time and travel the world from their West Coast base. Not bad for a guy who’s a couple of years older than me. Anyway, his message today out of the blue took me aback. And after I confessed I couldn’t really remember more than a couple of the players, I asked how he was doing. He responded that he had some plumbing to do and would get back to me later. Maybe another three years?
And as if to underscore the point I’m attempting to make with this post (and which I might have forgotten by now) I did a quick search of my blog archives and found this post from 2010 featuring this photograph:
No, I didn’t remember ever posting about the Ringwraiths until now. But this has triggered some memories. Back row: #66 is Jim Meehan, #13 is Rod Headlee, #6 is Larry Raemakers. Front row: #12 Paul Martin, next to him Dutch something or other, Chuck Martin, don’t recall #24, #35 is Doug Price and #22 is my brother Keith.Oh, and that handsome #7 looks awfully familiar…
So, I don’t know whether I should feel good about remembering some more names after seeing the photo or not. The “Dutch” guy was my pot supplier and my first wife’s ex-boyfriend. It’s scary to me though that I don’t recall my old post or the fact that we were league champions.
Rod also reminded me that we attended a massive outdoor rock concert that year called California Jam.
I don’t really remember this either. But in my defense, I was very likely stoned out of my mind at the time.
Oh well, this has been an interesting trip (and fall) down memory lane. At least for me. I forgot I’m writing for an audience that probably gave up on this post after the first paragraph. If you are still here, thank you for your indulgence!
As bad as I may be, at least I’m not China’s bitch.
Or puppet as it were.
Now if I could only figure out how to lose the bad memories.
Luckily I have some photographs to document the interesting moments that took place. Such as they were.
I played darts in the Alley Cats tourney and drew a strong partner, Billy. We faced off against Cristy and Nancy in the first round. Now, Cristy is probably the best player in Barretto right now and Nancy is a good player, although she can be a tad inconsistent. They royally kicked our ass and sent us to the loser’s bracket. I figured maybe we’d meet them in the finals but a team with an average player with a weak partner beat them. Just goes to show you can never predict the outcome of a darts match. Sometimes your hot, sometimes it’s like you never played the game before.
Anyway, we did meet Cristy and Nancy again in the losers bracket and got our revenge. Then we beat the team that had beat them and made it into the finals. We had to beat Espie and Liza twice to take the championship and that’s just what we did.
Well done, Billy!
My new blender is back from the shop and I came home after darts and gave it a try. Loaded it up with frozen strawberry, mango, ice cream, and milk and let it rip. Those razor blades sliced and diced the contents in almost no time. The damn thing still scares the hell out of me though.
I think I might have mentioned my downstairs neighbor got a videoke (karaoke) machine as a gift. As I feared, loud and off-key singing has been the evening’s treat ever since. Last night I had to sleep with music playing in my headphones to drown out the noise. Well, that’s not gonna fly. Videoke is part of the culture here and the locals play it loud and long. One of the benefits of living in Alta Vista is you tend to be above all that noise, or at least you only hear it from a distance. When I agreed that the caretakers of the property could continue living downstairs, it was just Tony and his wife. Tony is dead now but the wife has had family, including small children, staying over frequently. It’s only a one-room accommodation, not sure how they manage it. So I’m either going to have to be a prick and evict her or move when it is time to renew my lease next month. Or maybe if I ask nicely they’ll knock off the bad singing most nights. We’ll see.
Oh, and my head is still shaking about this one. Apparently, the neighbor’s husband told her that someone told him she was fucking ME for money. What the hell? First of all, I’ve never been physical with the neighbor’s wife at all. I’ve not even heard from her since the day I took her to church last week. But why would I pay to have sex with a 40-something married woman? When I want to pay for sex, I have a couple of 20-something hotties I can call. I’m actually pretty damned offended by the accusation, it seems like defamation at a minimum. Haven’t decided what if anything to do about it. Not even sure who made the allegation, it just got relayed to me third hand through my helper. I am glad I took my reader’s advice and maintained my innocence though. Might be another motivation to move, however.
Somebody’s day started much worse than mine did:
That appears to be across the river on Sawmill Road. I’d reckon that black smoke is indicative of a structure fire.
Via Facebook memories I enjoyed this photo of me and some of my former staff at our Christmas party four years ago:
Ms. Yi, Ms. Choe, and Ms. Song. Part of a great team! Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone…
A rather pleasant walk this morning with Scott and Dan. I’ll post about that tomorrow. Now it is time to prepare for another darts tournament. Speaking of darts, Facebook reminded me that eight years ago I wrote the lyrics to a song called “A Hard Darts Night” after a tough tourney loss. And yeah, I stole the tune from the Beatles, sue me!
It’s been a hard darts night And I’ve been throwing like a punk It’s been a hard darts night But at least I’m getting drunk Yet when I get to the line I think I’ll get it right this time But I still miss the out
You know I throw all day To win some money to buy my drinks And when you lose it in the final leg Well the money, it kind of stinks And so I get home and moan ‘Cause I’m to blame alone You know I can’t hit an out
When I practice, everything seems to be fine In the games, I don’t have a clue at the line, yeah, yeah, yeah
It’s been a hard darts night And I’m really having trouble It’s been a hard darts night ‘Cause I can’t hit the f’n double But I’ll be back for some more Because I’m just a darts whore And that makes me feel alright
Yeah, I won’t quit my day job. Oh, wait…
Coincidentally, today marks the 40th anniversary of John Lennon’s murder. RIP.
I’m not a believer so I don’t really believe that. It’s probably just sheer coincidence. Still, it makes you think.
The first incident took place 43 years ago in 1977. I was a mailman in Anaheim, California at the time. I doubt if I ever would have even thought of the event if something I read on Quora hadn’t yanked me back in time to that fateful day. Here is the question that was posed:
I wasn’t the boss but had it happen to me. Back when I was a letter carrier with the USPS we had to “bid” on vacation dates based on seniority. Only a certain percentage of employees were allowed to be off at any given time. Anyway, I had the first week in June and another guy had the second week. A few days after the bidding was over, the other carrier came to me and said his plans had changed and would I mind switching with him. I didn’t have anything going on that week so I said sure, let’s clear it with the boss. So we approached the supervisor and told him what we wanted to do. He replied, no problem and instructed us both to fill out a leave form canceling the approved time off and then fill out another form requesting the new dates. And so we did just that.
Once he had our cancellation forms he took our names off the board showing approved leave. And then he DENIED our new leave requests saying another carrier was on extended leave and so the maximum number of carriers was already off. In other words, both of us lost our planned leave. He was gleeful as he told us and it was obvious he had suckered us into canceling our prior approved leave.
So, all these years later I just want to say thank you, Mr. Frank Nathan. Your actions that day caused me to join the union and later become a shop steward and eventually the president of the local union branch. My work with the union impressed the HR Director and she promoted me into my first management job. I had over 35 years of government service when I retired as a GS-15 Human Resources Director and I’m now living a happy life on my pension in the Philippines.
I honestly never really thought about how that incident may have played a role in changing my life. I recall being very pissed at the time and talking to my union steward about it. He agreed that the supervisor was being an asshole but he was also technically within his rights to deny our leave requests after we had canceled the previously approved leave. It was a lesson learned and one that helped me become a better leader. I’m sure you are long dead by now Mr. Nathan but you are proof of the old saying that no man is totally worthless–he can always serve as a bad example.
And then there was the thing that happened this morning. My neighbor’s wife had asked if she could join me on one of my hikes. Well, I’ve been following the advice of my commenters to the post linked above and maintaining my distance from “Judy”. But it’s nice to have company when I’m walking and really, it’s an innocent thing so I figured no big deal. We had agreed on Sunday but she sent a message saying she needed to go to church on Sunday and asked to join me today. Fine, let’s go. She wanted to meet up the road a piece, I guess so her hubby wouldn’t see us walking together. Anyway, we met up and set out. I took her out the back way from Alta Vista and then down through Marian Hills. We had to avoid some dogs and do some puddle jumping but she was a good sport about it. She really was surprised seeing some of the sights that have become old hat to me, so that was pleasant. I thought she might get tired out early on but she was a good trooper.
As we walked, we talked of course. She said her husband hasn’t been feeling well so this walk was a break for her. She told me of her efforts to gain legal status in her husband’s home country of Switzerland that has been stymied by the logistical restrictions due to COVID. Then she talked about her church. She told me she had resided in the church for several years serving as a missionary. They would go on missions to convert Catholics to the true “born again” faith. As she went on and on I asked if she were trying to evangelize me. She laughed but didn’t deny it. I asked where her church was located and she told me Olongapo City. She mentioned the name but the only part that stood out was “4th Watch”. I didn’t recall hearing that before, but it was still vaguely familiar.
About an hour and a half into our walk, along a route I take on a regular basis, we turned a corner and I saw this sign:
Over the course of several months I had observed this church being constructed but otherwise paid it no heed. But that was where I had seen that “4th Watch” term.
When I pointed it out to “Judy” she was both shocked and excited. She had no idea a branch of her faith was out here in the sticks of San Isidro. Of course, she wanted to go in and have a look-see. And this is where it got a little weird. Everyone in the building appeared to know her! They beckoned me inside and I reluctantly entered so as not to appear rude. Then we got invited into the parsonage where Judy engaged in banter with an older woman and I accepted a chair offered by a cute young woman. And then the “bishop” came in and we exchanged introductions and some small talk. The usual where are you from, are you a believer type talk (my standard response is I raised in the Pentecostal faith) you’d expect in this situation. They did comment on my Biblical name, so I dutifully recounted John 3:16 from memory. They all seemed quite impressed. Anyway, it wasn’t unpleasant and they all seemed warm and welcoming like any good Christian should be.
It was all news to “Judy” that the Olongapo church was now closed and all these people she knew from there were assigned to this new mission building. I was invited to join them for Sunday services and I was non-committal, but of course, that’s not going to happen. Not sure if “Judy” is going to make it, but it’s an easy trike ride from here. She also took pictures with me and the Bishop which made me a little uncomfortable. I asked her after we departed how she was going to explain my being there with her. She already had told them the “truth”–I was a neighbor and a friend who had graciously shown her the way to the new church building which I had discovered on my many walks through the area. Okay then.
Anyway, for the remainder of the walk, it was all about “God’s plan” and how He had used me to guide her to the new church. I finally had to make it abundantly clear that I did not now, nor would I ever, be sharing in her religious beliefs. Things got a little quiet after that. As we neared the highway, a trike driver offered a ride. I declined, she accepted. So I walked the rest of the way home alone and haven’t heard from her since. Perhaps I never will again. That would I guess be God’s will.
Although I was now walking alone, I did encounter this cutie walking in front of me:
I wasn’t sure if her shirt was yet another message from God.
And oh yeah, as I was entering my neighborhood I met “Judy’s” husband as he was walking out. We exchanged nods in greeting. It was a weird end to a rather bizarre hike.
I got to thinking (shuddup!) on my morning walk today. It occurred to me that there is no future for me to worry about. I’m not sure that this realization constitutes an epiphany, I mean, it’s not like I’ve been working towards any goal attainment or making other future-driven plans. Probably the last thing I aspired to do was finding a true and lasting love to share my life with. Having let go of that dream for good I have to face the fact that this life I’m living is all there is and all there ever will be. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that is a bad thing, I’m just consciously accepting the reality of my situation.
I’m 65 years old. What kind of future goals could I expect to achieve in the ten or fifteen years (if I’m lucky) I have left here on earth? I’m retired, so there is nothing work-related to accomplish. I’m living on a pension, so for better or worse, what I have now is all I’m ever going to have. Of course, there are things I still aspire to do, like travel, but under the current lockdown circumstances throughout the world that’s not possible. So it would seem that all my dreams are in the past. Perhaps that explains why nearly all my brain comforting fantasies involve going backward in time.
But here in the real world, this day is what I have. Like yesterday was and tomorrow will be. There is a Groundhog Day quality to the sameness of it all. Hell, you’ve read the blog. I wake up, I hike, I drink, I sleep, and then do it all over again. And again. Sure, some of the details and people around me change day-to-day, but the reality is that this life is what I’ve chosen and this life is what I’ll be living until it ends. I suspect that even the invocation of Plan B (moving to Cambodia) would only change the location, but not the substance of my life. Such as it is.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying this life I’ve chosen is a bad thing. Indeed, I reckon some people would say I’m living the dream. Nothing is perfect and I have my share of disappointments and frustrations, but I honestly cannot think of anywhere else I’d want to be or that would make me happier. I’ve likened Barretto to those retirement communities I used to see in Arizona when I was a young man. But this one I’m living in is like nothing I could have imagined back then. Yeah, we’ve got our share of crotchety old fuckers but we are surrounded by brown-skinned beauties willing to service our needs and desires. And I don’t just mean sex, although that is obviously available too. I’ve got friends and acquaintances I can hang out with who share some of my passions and interests. There are the Hash and darts, and of course, the bars to keep me entertained. And every morning when I walk the dogs and look around me I’m still astounded by the natural beauty of my surroundings, even after nearly three years of living here.
So, this day and all the days to come are my future. I’m okay with that.
Yesterday’s sunset. Today’s will be the same, only different. Like tomorrow.
And so it begins. Again. I can no longer pretend not to notice that large protrusion around my mid-section popularly known as a beer belly. How it got there I haven’t a clue but I’ve resolved to take appropriate actions to make it go away.
Yes, Google is my friend and the WebMD tells me my beer belly may come from my consumption of beer. Go figure. Also, unhealthy eating habits like indulging my sweet tooth and other high-calorie carbohydrates. This usually happens after I drink a few beers, so I guess there is some correlation. So what to do about it? Well, the web is full of advice, most of which comes down to diet and exercise. Tell me something I don’t already know!
I don’t expect I’ll have six-pack abs, but I want to get rid of the keg I have now.
Truth is, I do get plenty of exercise in the form of walking. Admittedly my step count has fallen off somewhat of late, averaging around 18,000 steps daily rather than the 20,000+ I used to do routinely. I’m going to work on bumping that back up but I’m also planning to add some strength training as well.
Nothing real dramatic though, just some resistance band training and using the ab wheel to strengthen up those stomach muscles.
The real challenge will be in reducing my calorie intake and regaining some discipline when it comes to just saying “no!” to the foods I enjoy, like ice cream and other sweets. That’s why I had that big breakfast of French toast yesterday; just my way of saying goodbye. For a while at least.
Compare and contrast to this morning’s breakfast–no bread at all!
So, this is basically my plan: I’ll have a big breakfast and skip lunch. If I get hungry, I’ll eat something healthier like nuts or a slice of cheese. I’ll cut out the sweets as much as I can too. No big ass bowls of ice cream but maybe an occasional strawberry smoothie. What am I forgetting? Oh yeah, the beer. Hmm. I do drink low carb, low-calorie beer now but I’m drinking too much of it. Starting today I’ll cut way back on the beer consumption. I’m thinking I’ll indulge on Hash day because beer is all that is available. On other nights when I’m out and about I’ll switch to something carb-free, like gin and soda water. I’ve already checked with my favorite bars and I was pleased to find that they all stock soda water so I should be good to go.
I’ve done this regimen before. Dropped 70 pounds in about 18 months by taking up walking and engaging in some dietary discipline. I weighed in this morning at an even 211 pounds. My goal is to bet back under 200, so that means at least 12 pounds have got to go. I’d actually like to drop around 20 pounds and then try and maintain a healthy for me weight of 195.
Two years ago when I was back home in the USA I was happy to discover I could still wear my letter carrier jacket. I think it would be a tight squeeze now.
What else is going on? Well, everyone is these parts is waiting expectantly for Super Typhoon Rolly to roll in. I thought it was due to hit in the wee hours of this morning but I hadn’t noticed the times in the tracker were GMT. Arrival is now expected tonight around 9:00. Looks like it is going to be a doozy, probably the strongest storm I’ve seen since moving here. Rolly is hitting at the same time as high tide and word is there will be a storm surge of 2 or 3 meters. So flooding could be an issue for those near the beach. Rolly is also packing big winds and that could cause some damage, especially for those who are living in shacks and squalor already. I guess my worry about loss of power is meaningless, comparatively speaking. Still, I’m fully prepared to suck it up and book a room at Mango’s should the need arise.
It was clear an hour ago, but now the rain has arrived. Good thing I got my morning walk in at least.
So here’s your daily dose of mask litter porn.
Speaking of porn, you should see my ass. Almost a week after taking my spill during the Hash, my butt is still sore. Here’s why:
Just be thankful I cropped out the crack. You are welcome!
It’s highly unlikely I’ll be doing a Hash tomorrow. For one thing, Guenter is the Hare again. For another, there’ll be a frickin’ typhoon. I’m hoping things have moderated enough that I can do a bar crawl type trail. We’ll see.
And that’s it from here on this rainy Sunday. Wish me luck!
Tuesday is supposed to be my day off from walking. It’s a whole other kind of excitement for me on grocery shopping day. This week things went a bit out of the norm though. To begin, my driver had a court appearance (no, I didn’t ask why) and couldn’t pick me up until 10:30. No big deal. Also, I had to go to the immigration office in Olongapo to renew my tourist visa for another 60 days. That went fine. Then it was off for the groceries.
I wanted to hit Pure Gold, another grocery store on the old Navy base, first to see if they were stocking some of the things I can’t seem to get at Royal lately. I was pleasantly surprised to find the coveted frozen strawberries I hadn’t seen for months. Also got a few other hard to find items, then went to the old Royal store nearby for the rest of my shopping. Given the late start and detours, I wasn’t back home until 1:00 p.m.
When I checked my phone I found a message from H.I.V. asking if I was coming to the Bundok Hash he was hosting. Well, a couple of weeks ago I had signed up and never got a response. I figured it wasn’t happening. Then I heard it mentioned at Sunday’s COVID Hash so I emailed to ask what was going on and once again got no response. I sent another message on Monday and still got no answer. I just figured I wasn’t welcome. And now the Grand Master is asking me when I’m going to arrive? Well, fuck it. Changed clothes and headed out to Hot Zone a few minutes before it was time to hit the trail.
I paid my 3500 pesos ($70) and got ready to head out. Guenter was once again the Hare, but I was pretty familiar with the territory so wasn’t too worried about getting fucked over on a fucked up trail.
We started out on the beach…I’m thinking, this is too easy for a Guenter trail…It wasn’t even raining! Ah, but of course. We had to do the crossing where the river enters the bay. I could have taken a shortcut to avoid the wet feet but wanted to be a good example of our out-of-town Hashers…I did find a discarded mask amongst the flotsam on the beach…We circled back around on the streets of Barretto and had a beer stop at the 3K mark. I stuck with water. I like walking and I like drinking but I try and keep those activities separate and distinct.
The second half of the hike was also slated to be 3K and it went up the mountain and on to the familiar My Bitch trail. Guenter’s trail went down to a creekbed/waterfall that I’d done once before and swore I’d never do again. But I knew a better way to go and that’s what I did.
A short but steep climb to the top.These guys were both Hash virgins and were even slower than me. So I hung back to make sure they found their way. When we got to the intersection where my trail turned off I gave them fair warning about what was ahead of them on Guenter’s trail. They opted to stick with me instead. Smart guys!
Made it back to Hot Zone a little after 4 p.m. We had a circle and all the virgins had to wear a diaper on their head for the duration. Our food arrived promptly at 5:00, wings and potato salad from Sit-n-Bull. Then another brief circle to prepare for Phase II of the Bundok.
I’ll need to be discrete discreet in my description of those activities. All the Hashers are randomly given a key to a room at a nearby short time motel. So we can, um, take a shower. The rooms do come equipped with “software” that each individual is free to utilize in any manner that pleases them. Or not at all. Of course, whether the software actually works is also an individualized undertaking. This was my third Bundok and the first time I maximized the capabilities of the software to my ultimate satisfaction. The shower was refreshing as well.
A knock on the door shortly before the hour was up meant that it was time to head back to Hot Zone (we were on the roof, not in the bar) for our final circle and after-action report. Apparently, a good time was had by nearly everyone in attendance. I know I was Charmed.
Oh yeah, here’s this year’s version of the coveted Bundok shirt.
The front.The back. Fuck you COVID.And the discrete disclaimer inside the shirt.
So, that was that. Another day in paradise with a dash of the unexpected to spice things up a bit. Back to my normal routines now. Long (for me) walks yesterday and this morning and I’ll do some darts out on Baloy beach this afternoon.
I’ve got a friend in Cambodia who is making a difference. A big and lasting difference.
He is acquainted with a family who was living in this shack……so he provided the funds to have this house built for them.
That’s quite the legacy. Now granted, I don’t know anything about his financial resources other than to say he worked for me on and off for the past twenty-five years or so. Which is to say, he didn’t get rich working for Uncle Sam. He’s no Biden after all! So, his generosity is all the more impressive. Well done, sir!
Now I on the other hand like to pretend to be a caring and giving person. Sure, I’ll help someone I know out of a tight spot occasionally. Throwing out the equivalent of fifty or a hundred dollars now and then isn’t going to change the world though. Hell, it doesn’t even make a lasting difference for the people I’ve helped. It makes me feel good to know that I fed “mama” for the night or that Ester won’t be getting evicted (this month anyway). But that’s chump change really and I’ve acknowledged before that what I’m really doing is selfishly buying some peace of mind for myself.
But it gets worse, or should I say that I do. Lately, I’ve been losing patience with some of those continually begging for my assistance. One of the downsides of my beachside stool at Mango’s is that there is nothing separating me from the souvenir vendors who ply the sandy shore searching for suckers tourists. I try to be friendly and polite with them but I’ve made it clear I have no interest in the trinkets they are selling. I’ve helped one guy out a couple of times when he said he needed milk money for his daughter because after walking all day he had found no customers. I’ve given him advice along the lines of the tourists won’t be back anytime soon and that you are a healthy young man and need to pursue another line of work. Hell, he could ask the hotels if he could rake the littered beaches for them. He nods and says he understands, but every day he is back. So, I gave him another 100 pesos ($2.) last night but told him not to expect me to continue doing so. It is not my responsibility to feed your daughter. He smiled and took the money then went on his way. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again.
Not long afterward yet another vendor comes and obstructs my view. I didn’t recognize this one but he didn’t want to take no for an answer. I finally had to get up and move to the inside bar to avoid a confrontation I knew I’d regret. I told the bartender they should really not allow the vendors to harass customers but by then the guy had moved on. When I came back to my regular stool I saw him a bit down the beach and he waved and smirked at me. I raised my hand to give him the finger but then lowered it again. He ain’t worth it.
So, what is my problem really? What’s a dollar or two to me when I’m dealing with people who from all appearances have nothing? The best I can come up with is I don’t like being played for a sucker. I gave the one guy some pesos, he tells his friends, and the next thing I know they are swarming around the fool who gives away money for nothing. I don’t want to be that guy. When I give it is in a time or place of my own choosing. I don’t want to be shamed or guilted into giving money to people whose true needs I can’t be sure of. Mostly, I want to be left alone to enjoy my beer, and once you have outed yourself as an easy mark that ain’t gonna happen.
But wait, there’s more. Not long after the vendor incident, I got a message from Nikole, the woman he does my weekly massage. She told me her daughter was sick and she needed a 1000 peso advance to buy medicine. I responded that I was sorry to hear that but I had no way to get her the money. She said I’m in Barretto now. So I told her I’d meet her out in front of Mango’s. This was the third time she has asked for money from me, both of the previous requests I declined. Harder to say no when a sick child is involved (if that was truly the case). Still, it pissed me off. So, when she walked up I handed her the money and told her, this is not an advance, it is your severance pay. She asked me what I meant and I told her it means you are fired. Then I turned and walked away. She messaged me later that she was very hurt to be fired and that she was crying. That working for me was a big help for her kids. I haven’t answered her messages.
I do feel shitty about it though. I overpay for the massage as it is, I don’t want to be hounded for money when I’m out trying to enjoy myself. Now, my friend Ester had hinted around that she would like to add meat products to the vegetable stand she opened but didn’t have the money to do so. I ignored her hint. She also said she is hoping to be called back to work at Alley Cats soon. Well, last night I found out that Alley Cats has hired a new girl which is reprehensible when you have at least three women thinking they will be getting their job back “soon”. That pisses me off and makes me not want to patronize the bar again. I’m planning to go for darts today but that may be my last hurrah there. I’m also toying with the idea of starting up some darts tourneys in a different bar. Just out of spite. We’ll see.
Anyway, I’ve been feeling guilty today so I sent Ester a message asking how much she needs to add the meat business to her stand. Yeah, I need to buy myself another dose of peace of mind.
My dinner at Mango’s last night. A roast chicken salad and a bowl of seafood chowder. That and my beers cost more than the money I gave to Nikole and the vendor. Pretty strong evidence that I am indeed a selfish bastard.The view was free though.
I know I promised photos from yesterday’s hike but I think this post has gone on long enough. I’ll share them with you tomorrow though. I promise.
She calls out to the man on the street “Sir, can you help me? It’s cold and I’ve nowhere to sleep Is there somewhere you can tell me?” He walks on, doesn’t look back He pretends he can’t hear her Starts to whistle as he crosses the street Seems embarrassed to be there
Oh, think twice, ’cause it’s another day for you and me in paradise Oh, think twice, ’cause it’s another day for you You and me in paradise Think about it
I guess the only thing of interest going on other than my normal walkaholic/alcoholic life would be my budding relationship/romance with a married woman I call “Judy”.
Just a quick recap: I first met Judy several months ago. I had an immediate physical attraction to her and over the course of several in-passing conversations I became enamored with her wit and humor. And that’s all there was to it because I knew she was married and unavailable. Until the day Judy came to visit my helper and told me she wanted to have a talk with me. Turns out, she shared my feelings of attraction and also the understanding that it was an impossible situation. She was having problems with her husband but would not break her wedding vows or her religious convictions to be with another man. Obviously, I had no cause or desire to object to that. One of the issues she was having with her spouse was his refusal to have any involvement with her adult children, including financial support. Her daughter needed some money to continue her college education online and I agreed to help. Judy was of course very grateful, but otherwise that was that.
Until the day she came back to my house and tearfully revealed to me and my helper that her husband had told her he would be leaving her by the end of the year and moving to another country. Judy seemed devastated by the news despite the fact that her husband appears to be a selfish asshole. My advice was circumspect, basically just telling her to look to the future, not the past. That it seemed to me her husband had given her a wonderful gift of freedom to pursue whatever life she desired. We also connected on Messenger and have been chatting frequently ever since.
One of the things we have talked about was how we both wished we had met six years ago. Judy says I am the man she always dreamed of and she would have been much happier with me than her husband. I admitted that I had also considered how my life would have been different if I had moved to the Philippines in 2010 instead of taking the detour of marrying Jee Yeun, I also said that perhaps the fates would provide us our chance to be together sometime in the future. Judy has hinted about having a secret rendevouz but I told her as long as her husband is around it is not worth taking a chance. If he is really going to leave the country in a couple of months it is better for us both to wait. Judy was accepting of taking that approach.
Since that time her messages are full of how much she misses me, wishes she could see me, dreams about me, and on and on. The other day she even invoked the “love” word. Alright, I admit that kind of talk makes me more than a little nervous. It’s too soon for one thing. If and when the time comes when Judy and I can pursue a proper relationship we can discover together how compatible we truly might be as a couple. I mean, we’ve never even kissed. I’ve told her she needs to slow down and take things one day at a time and we will see what the future has in store for us. It doesn’t seem to be working though.
I’ve also got a problem with being someone’s rebound option. I don’t want Judy to think that once her hubby is gone I’ll be there to pick up the pieces. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. But if we are together it will be because it is the right love at the right time. I’m not a safety net or the next best thing. Given what I know about her husband (admittedly only what she has told me) I’m reasonably sure she would be trading up, as unlikely as that may seem given my own sordid history. Again, who knows and we won’t know until such time as we spend time together and find out. That’s just not possible right now so I need her to focus on the present, not some dreamed of future with me that may never happen anyway.
Another thing that is on my mind is that going into a new relationship immediately may not be in Judy’s own best interests. She told me in one conversation that her parents still live in her province on another island and that she owns land there. Her dream has been to develop the property and live there one day. Judy’s current husband won’t even permit her to visit her parents or her children. I know that sounds outrageous and my thinking when she told me is what kind of person would permit an abusive man to isolate her from family. Sadly, Judy’s personality and religious beliefs have caused her to be subserviant to this guy’s desires. She sees it as her duty to take care of her husband faithfully and without complaint. Yeah, that’s fucked up, and yeah my being in the picture now has created a lot of cognitive disssonace to the depths of her soul. She tells me she cries a lot these days.
Anyway, I am going to hold steady and try to avoid doing anything stupid. I’m content to wait and see how things play out without my getting physically involved. I do have feelings for Judy and I feel like I have some part to play in her future. In my thinking that may very well be helping her return home to her family and living that life. I have no plans to join her there but would be happy for her if that proves to be her best option.
Meanwhile, I’ve got my walks and I’ve got my beer. Not being in a relationship and not worrying about not having one are actually easier done than I ever imagined they would be. I’m going to be just fine on my own. If Judy is truly what she appears to be, perhaps I’ll trust her with my heart one day. Time will tell.
Watching my head, holding my face One more evening gone to waste No longer do I know my place Killing time and missing my cues Watching her belong to you Tears could only change my view
Take the L out of lover and it’s over [
Growing up has always been tough Good intentions never good enough I would take you far away Do anything to make you stay
It’s certainly interesting how you can suddenly find yourself at the intersection of the unexpected and the unintended, not knowing which way to turn, and then enduring the consequences of your indecision. That was where I wound up yesterday.
I guess the first indication of trouble to come was Thursday night. My helper Gina, who is also friends with the ex, told me said ex was very distraught about something and maybe I should inquire as to her well-being. I was tired and a little drunk at this point so I went to bed instead. The next morning I did send the ex a message asking if she was alright. She responded affirmatively but then revealed that she was really upset with the female Hash group on Facebook. When she told me why I too was pissed off.
I mentioned in an earlier post that I had an encounter with a drunk “Janey” on Wednesday night at Bar Celona. What I didn’t reveal, because it seemed insignificant at the time, was that “Laura”, one of Janey’s friends took a photo of us together. I recall being a little perturbed at the interruption of my beer enjoyment for no apparent reason, but Janey’s friend was insistent on capturing the moment.
You can see how happy I was about the interruption. I’m thinking, why does “Laura” want to take this photo so badly?
Well, come to find out Laura posted the photo in the Facebook group with some commentary mocking my ex. That was why she was upset. Seriously, who in the fuck does that, and for what motivation? To take pleasure in causing someone else pain? I honestly don’t get it and I thought the invasion of Janey’s privacy in such a fucked up manner ought to be brought to her attention.
At first, Janey shared my anger and indicated she wouldn’t have any future dealings with Laura. She came back to me later and said Laura had denied posting the photo and she had suggested maybe one of the other girls present had done so. Well, I’m no detective but the only photo taken that I knew of was taken by Laura and was on her phone. But whatever.
So, I go out and do my Friday morning group hike and we finished at Cheap Charlies for some lunch and beer. I get a message from Janey asking how the hike was, and then she brings up the photo issue again. I reiterated that I didn’t believe Laura’s denial but she could believe whatever she wanted. I said it seemed cruel and unnecessary that the ex had been subjected to mockery. I mean, she already knew that I was seeing Janey.
Oops.
Janey: “How does she know that?” Me: Because I told her. Janey: Why would you do that? Me: Because she asked and I wasn’t going to lie about it. Someone had already told her.
And then the shit hit the fan. I sat there in disbelief as message after angry message came up on my phone. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have acknowledged my “dating” with Janey. I get that she wanted to be discreet. After all, she does have a boyfriend. My bad. But Janey wouldn’t let it go at that. Instead, she attacked me on the most personal level: I had no character. I had betrayed her trust. I was a liar. She was a fool to have believed I had feelings for her. On and on she went. And then she said the words I had never wanted to hear: “And to think I almost broke up with my boyfriend for you!”
You know, I had backed off of the relationship with Janey specifically so she could find her own way about what to do with her boyfriend. From everything she has told me the guy is a complete loser. Treats her disrespectfully, is likely cheating on her, and may even be a pedophile (based on pictures she saw on his Facebook account). I didn’t want to be her second choice or fallback position. It was important to me that she figured out that she was better off without him. Not for me, but for her own good. Then I thought we would have a chance to see how things would work out for us as a couple. And until yesterday I thought she might be moving in that direction. But compare me unfavorably to her pathetic boyfriend? Perhaps they deserve each other.
Anyway, at that moment I think I realized it was over with her once and for all. I’d never seen her in attack mode like that and it wasn’t pretty. Or deserved in my opinion. So, someone who would turn on me like that is not the kind of person I would trust with my heart. It was a painful way to find out that aspect of her character, but I’m glad I know now.
I ended our conversation by telling her I don’t need the drama in my life. We wished each other well in the future and that was that.
So yeah, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with the ex’s issues with the Hash group. I thought I was doing Janey a favor by revealing the true nature of her friend Laura. Obviously, I should not have bothered. The ex told me she had blocked all the girls in the Hash group and that she would not be participating in any future Hashes. And then she told me “Janey is old and ugly”.
I’ve been doing some self-reflection and pondering the way ahead as I move into what remains of my golden years. Honestly speaking and notwithstanding my bitching and moaning, I’m living a comfortable and mostly satisfying retired life here in my scenic little town. The one aspect I’ve been most unhappy about has been my failure to find and maintain a truly loving relationship. And yes, I know that is all on me. And you, my dear readers, are quick to remind me of that fact whenever my whining rants and self-pity get to be too much. See, this blog does serve a purpose!
A commenter on myLive and Learnpost defined the nature of my failures with women as being due to what he called “transactional relationships”:
If you really are seeking some sort of love and companionship, you have to start by eliminating the transactional dimension of your “relationships.” Another astute commenter used the phrase “pay for play” to describe your situation. As long as you’re unable to rise above the transactional (she gets something out of this; I get something out of this), you’re doomed to marinate in your own hell.
I hadn’t really ever thought of it quite that way so that set me to thinking. Looking back it is true that almost all of my “love” relationships had a transactional aspect to them. Maybe it is just the way I’m wired or perhaps it’s just my admittedly selfish nature, but I’m not seeing how I might escape this Groundhog Day-like cycle. I mean, aren’t the traditional wedding vows transactional in nature? Making mutual promises to one another about all the things you will do for that person “until death do us part” is tantamount to entering into a contract. What’s more transactional than that?
So, I’ve been married four times. Some might call that a failure, but on the other hand, I did find four women in this world willing to take those vows of eternal love. That it was all for naught isn’t all that relevant, is it? In the case of wife #1, she had my baby. I wanted to keep that baby girl and raise her the best I could. Marriage was the avenue for doing that, so I gladly made that transaction. After five years that wife decided she didn’t want the job of being a mother anymore (we also had a son by now) so I became a single father.
Wife #2 was and is probably one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I knew she’d make a great mom for my kids (she was a widow with one young child) and so I convinced her to marry me. I did love her in my fashion but there is no denying the transactional nature of that relationship. Of course, once the kids were grown the foundation of the marriage no longer existed. I recall that when I told my daughter of the pending divorce, she said to me: “I never understood why you got married in the first place. You two have nothing in common. She doesn’t even laugh at your jokes.” I responded that I got married so she would have a mother. My daughter looked at me and said “Daddy, we were doing just fine as the three of us.” Oh well, that one is all on me and I hurt a very good woman in the process. I’m not proud of that at all.
Now, wife #3 was all about passion. I mean, that was certainly true in the physical sense but it also carried over into our intellectual life as well. We fought about everything, but not really in a bad way. We both worked in labor relations and we’d have heated debates about work-related issues as a matter of course. Once I wised up and left my liberal orthodoxy behind we’d fight like cats and dogs over politics too. But the thing is, we were engaged. We argued because we cared. And once I moved to Korea and she reneged on her promise to join me there, I really missed that aspect of our married life. That’s probably one of the few instances of a non-transactional relationship I’ve managed to achieve. In the end, it was still a failure, but in a twisted kind of way, it worked while it lasted.
My Korean wife (#4 if you’re keeping score) was pretty much the complete opposite of my third wife. The language barrier played a large part in that I suppose as our interactions were limited to mostly mundane questions and responses. But she was a good woman and had a good heart. And she changed my life. I was supposed to retire and move to the Philippines in 2010. But after one of my trips there I came home sick and was hospitalized for a couple of days. Jee Yeun took time off work and stayed with me 24/7. And that got me thinking. I knew the Filipinas I had been meeting would love me for what I could offer them but likely only until a better option came along. I knew Jee Yeun would always be there for me. So, that’s what I chose. The deal was we’d always take care of each other and I was happy or at least satisfied with that. I guess that’s transactional too, but at least it was mutual. It was shocking when Jee Yeun unilaterally backed out of the deal. And not to make excuses, but I’ve been cynical about love ever since.
Now, after that final failure (and it is final, I will never marry again) I’ve been floundering. I want to have love in my love, but I’m unwilling to take the risks that loving someone requires. I don’t want another broken heart. So, I came up with a brand new plan. It was the ultimate in transactional relationships–I would pay someone to do and be all the things a girlfriend should provide, except there would be no love involved. I was a fool to believe it was foolproof. In the end, I fell in love with her and she broke my heart. Turns out she was better at the transactional game than I was–dumping me for a guy who offered her a better package. Is that how Karma works?
So, now what? We’ve identified the problem and that would be me. But what to do about it? Is being aware of my transactional nature enough to change it? Or will this be my destiny:
…like a wind-up toy aimed at a wall, you tend to hit that wall and to keep stubbornly trying to walk through it. You’ve been great about accepting the various criticisms we’ve offered (frankly, I might not react so well if I were in your place), but deep down, you’re not really accepting them. You’re stubbornly, eternally walking into that wall, into that wall, into that wall. Until you divorce yourself from that momentum and that trajectory (some would call this karma), nothing is going to change, no matter how much you rhapsodize about loftier things.
With awareness comes acceptance. Except I’m accepting that I’m not likely to change at this stage of my life. After giving the matter lots of thought, I’ve concluded that I am unlikely to change because I’m not at all sure that I want to change. No, I’m not particularly happy with my current state of being but damn, being “in love” might just be worse. These past few days seeing how the power my feelings for Janey has made me vulnerable to hurt and despair has been a good reminder that there are worse things than being alone.
So, what next? Well, I’m going to strive to do better in the way I treat the women I meet. A transactional relationship is one thing, but using people in a way that causes them pain is unacceptable. I don’t think that was ever my intent but I believe there have been some inadvertent hurt feelings along the way. I’m going to learn to embrace my aloneness as just another part of who I am. Yes, I’ll find opportunities along the way to experience the unique pleasure female company can provide. Let that be my respite from loneliness.
Actually, the thought has occurred to me to give my “Plan B” another try. Just pay someone to be my girlfriend/companion in much the same way that I pay my domestic helpers to take care of my house. It could work. As long as I don’t fall in love.
And the best news of all dear readers is that you will not hear me bitch and moan about the sorry state of my love life. There is peace in acceptance.
I’m in the early stages of reevaluating the person I’ve become and hopefully finding ways to be better than I have been. Self-awareness is definitely not my strong suit, but I’ve acknowledged in the past that in very many ways I’m a selfish bastard. That “what’s in it for me” attitude is probably what drove me to the transactional relationships habit we’ve been discussing in the comment threads on some recent posts. More on that another time.
In the belief that I might atone for some past transgressions and steer a course towards a more honest future, I had a talk with Janey yesterday over lunch at the Arizona resort. We started with a calamari appetizer. Janey did a chef salad and I tried their enchiladas. I honestly wasn’t impressed. But that’s not important right now.
Janey wasn’t expecting any serious talk and I could tell she was taken aback when I started telling her the things I’ve been thinking about these past few days. I began by telling Janey that contrary to what she has said to me on several occasions, she is not a “bad girl” for seeing me while she is in a long-distance relationship. I said if anyone was bad, it was me for having put her in this position to begin with despite my knowing she was not free. I told her that it made me sad when she blamed herself. I also said that I didn’t want her to feel any pressure from me to make a choice between me and her boyfriend. She should take her time and pick the life that is best for her. By the same token, I made clear that I do not want to be a second choice or fallback option. Her decision should be solely about him and her without consideration of her feelings towards me. If she should ultimately choose to end that relationship we could start anew and see where it leads for us. In the meantime, I would be taking a break and preparing myself for whatever the future might bring. I made clear I wasn’t seeking to find someone else, in fact, I needed time alone to figure out what it is that I want.
It felt good to get all that off my chest and I figured it would lead us into a larger conversation about her feelings as well. So, I was surprised by her reaction. “I understand” was all she would say. She was ready to burst into tears and wanted to leave the restaurant. I kept trying to reiterate that I was doing this for her–no more stress and she could take her time to make the best possible decision for her future. I emphasized that my feelings hadn’t changed but I thought it best for us both to focus on what was going to best prepare us for whatever the future might bring. “I understand” was all she told me. Then we left, she caught a trike and I went to play darts.
I later got a message saying I should not have told her what I did in the restaurant because she had to fight to keep from crying. We’ve chatted some today and she wasn’t sounding happy at all. So, I guess I was selfish again after all. It seems I just can’t help myself. Telling her what was in my mind and heart felt like the right thing to do, but maybe I was wrong about that.
I think where things stand now is we are back to being friends without all the baggage that comes with cheating. She did talk some today (on messenger) about her boyfriend and some of their issues. I suggested a face to face heart to heart when he returns to the Philippines. She’ll figure it out I think. I’m not sure where I’ll be at that point when she makes her decision. Hopefully in a better place than I am now.
And that’s where things currently stand with Janey.
More like 6 months. And whatever happens now won’t be my fault!
Oh, and I sucked at darts last night. It’s like I hadn’t played since March or something.
Tried to take a walk this morning, but it started raining so I turned around. Tried again this afternoon but when I got to Marion Hills the gates were closed. I’ve never seen that before. Made me wonder if one of those COVID cases was there. Or maybe they are trying to keep it out. Either way, I didn’t want to wind up in some quarantine ward so I retreated back to Alta Vista and walked there.
A beautiful afternoon regardless.
And that’s all I’ve got for this lockdown Sunday. Well, I’ve got pork chops in the crockpot. Maybe some beers and a movie later. Life goes on.
It’s not my way to love you just when no one’s looking It’s not my way to take your hand if I’m not sure It’s not my way to let you see what’s going on inside of me When it’s a love you won’t be needing, you’re not free
Please stop pulling at my sleeve if you’re just playing If you won’t take the things you make me want to give I never cared too much for games and this one’s driving me insane You’re not half as free to wander as you claim
But I’m easy I’m easy Give the word and I’ll play your game As though that’s how it ought to be Because I’m easy
Well, for those of you who have been following along with my adventures in love, here’s an update on yesterday’s meeting with the latest woman to trip my triggers.
I’m not going to name the woman here because I don’t want to have to password-protect the post. Let’s just call her Janey. When we arranged the rendezvous Janey had two items on her agenda to discuss–her stress and us. Turns out the stress was not induced by me, rather it all revolved around issues with her current (other?) boyfriend. Now, I’m only getting one side of the story so I take her criticisms with a certain amount of skepticism, but from what she reports the guy does seem to have some odd behaviors. Some of which might even raise some serious concerns about the man’s moral character. I’ll leave it at that for now, but it did seem apparent that Janey is in the “more I learn about this guy, the less I like him” mode. I asked some questions for clarification and to have her think through some of her feelings and fears, but otherwise did not state an opinion or interject myself in her efforts to reach conclusions about the value of the relationship.
One thing that took me aback was just how little time they have known each other. They met in November and only spent a month or so together before the guy returned home. I asked how long he has been coming to the Philippines and Janey said he’s made three trips in all, each approximately six months in length. He met her on his first trip to Subic last year. Apparently things moved fast after that. I have to say though the guy doesn’t strike me as too bright. Who in the hell buys a house in a town he has only visited once? And puts the damn thing in the name of a woman he’s spent only a month with. Rookie mistakes for sure. It might just turn out he’s going to pay a high price for his ignorance.
Don’t lead me on if there’s nowhere for you to take me If loving you would have to be a sometime thing I can’t put bars on my insides My love is something I can’t hide It still hurts when I recall the times I’ve cried
But I’m easy I’m easy Take my hand and pull me down I won’t put up any fight Because I’m easy
And so now it was time to talk about “us”. Janey essentially wanted to know if there was still an us. I reminded her that I had already said that I was taking a step back to allow her to decide the future she wanted to pursue without pressure or influence from me. I told her my feelings hadn’t changed but given the circumstances, there was nothing I could do about pursuing a relationship. She was already in one. I wanted more but considering she didn’t even want to be seen with me in public I would just have to content myself with biding my time until she made a decision. I reassured her that I would still be here for her anytime she needed me as a friend or someone to talk to.
I guess she was okay with that because we went upstairs and had amazing sex.
When we were finished I fed her some meatballs I had prepared in the crockpot. Then I put on some music. The playlist had a country sound going on and when Darius Rucker’s “Wagon Wheel” came on I gave her some twists and turns in her first experience with country swing dancing. She seemed to enjoy that.
And a bit later when Keith Carradine’s “I’m Easy” played I tried to sing along but got a little choked up. I guess it hit a bit too close to home.
When it was time to leave I accompanied Janey to the highway. She preferred to walk rather than take a trike so I said my goodbyes. No hug or kiss, of course, we were in public. It still felt weird somehow.
So, I don’t know if anything was resolved or not. At this point, I don’t feel ready to walk away but I’m prepared to go on with my life in the interim. Perhaps Janey is feeling the same way. She sent me this message this morning:
I want to be happy, I don’t want to be sad anymore… If you find something more than me just go ahead baby. I don’t want to hold you back. I love you but I want you to be happy. Life is so short.
That works for me I guess. It’s not like I have any choice. I’m easy.
Don’t do me favors, let me watch you from a distance ‘Cause when you’re near, I find it hard to keep my head And when your eyes throw light at mine It’s enough to change my mind Make me leave my cautious words and ways behind
That’s why I’m easy Ya, I’m easy Say you want me, I’ll come running Without taking time to think Because I’m easy Ya, I’m easy Take my hand and pull me down I won’t put up any fight Because I’m easy Ya, I’m easy Give the word, I’ll play your game As though that’s how it ought to be Because I’m easy
The internet truly is forever. Or so it seems. I had an email this morning from a stranger. He’d read something I posted on a forum back in April 2017 and wondered how things had worked out for me. And so I briefly related the sad details of that unhappy ending.
That forum post had been called “A brand new plan” and detailed the soul-crushing history that had led me to give up on love completely forevermore. My new plan was simply to hire someone to provide all the things a lover might without the baggage that love brings with it. I had already found the perfect woman for the job and was sending her to school to learn the caregiver trade. I was quite smug in my belief that I had it all figured out.
And then I fell in love with her. And then she broke my heart. It’s going on three years now and I’ve mostly gotten over it. And for the first time since then, I find myself falling in love again. With a woman who is already in a relationship. It’s a little scary when I consider the parallels with what happened to me and what could potentially happen to my new love’s boyfriend. It ain’t pretty and I’m not comfortable with being in this triangle.
It was odd timing that I was led to revisit the past this morning. Because this afternoon I’m having “the talk” with my new love. I had already told her that I was taking a step back to give her the time and space she needed to decide which future she wants to pursue. I got a message from her saying she didn’t sleep well last night because of “stress” and today she wants to talk about “us”. So that’s what we’ll do.
No idea which way this is going to go but I think I’m ready for anything. Frankly, re-reading my old new plan has me thinking that maybe I was on the right track back then before I mucked everything up by falling in love.
I’m anxious to see what is going to happen next.
Love is a rose But you better not pick it It only grows when it’s on the vine A handful of thorns and You know you’ve missed it You lose your love When you say the word “mine”
I wanna see what’s never been seen I wanna live that age-old dream Come on, lass, we can go together Let’s take the best right now Take the best right now
