Or more accurately, pissed on. I’ll get to that in a minute.

So, these last few weeks, I’ve really been besieged with requests for “loans” and financial assistance. Usually, the amounts requested aren’t that large–fifty bucks, sometimes $100, occasionally more than that. There is almost always an “emergency” involved–electric bill, rent overdue, no food for the kids. I try to be as accommodating as I can, but I also have to consider the source and enforce Rule #1 (don’t be a sucker). These “small” requests add up, and I do have a fixed income and try to live within my budget. In fact, these past couple of months, I have had to dip into my savings account, which I supposedly maintain for my own potential emergencies. This is my long-winded way of saying I need to toughen up and say “no” more often.

Yesterday, I received a message from “Jona” asking for a loan of 3500 pesos to pay her electric bill. She promised to repay me on the 25th when she gets paid. I’ve heard that line before, including from Jona, and in over four years of living here, I’ve only been repaid one time. I believe “loan” is the Tagalog equivalent of “gift.” Anyway, what especially rankled me about Jona’s request was that I almost never hear from her unless she wants something from me. That’s use and abuse, not friendship. I told her, “sorry, no.” I don’t expect I’ll ever hear from her again.

I also heard from Joy, who needed money to buy medicine for her sick child. She had told me earlier that the daughter was running a fever, and she was taking her to the doctor. She sent me a picture of the lab receipt and diagnosis of “blood infection.” Joy had spent all her available money on the doctor and didn’t have funds for the prescription. That’s the kind of request I’m not going to refuse. I gave her the 2000 pesos she needed, and she later sent photos showing her making the purchase at the pharmacy. Begging done right!

I say all of the above, knowing full well that I’m likely to spend more than the total of both requests buying lady drinks in the bars. Well, that’s a form of charity too, I suppose.

Speaking of the bars, I had my work cut out for me maximizing the use of the coupons I had won at the SOB on Friday. I actually started at Blue Butterfly because it was near the ATM, and I was waiting for Joy to claim her medicine money. When that transaction was completed, I moved on to The Green Room, where I had my most valuable coupon–a voucher worth 500 pesos.

I’m not a frequent visitor at The Green Room, preferring Wet Spot next door, so I didn’t know any of the gals working last night. I tried a little flirty humor with my waitress but she was pretty clearly not interested in anything I might have to offer. I also had a 10% discount coupon for Sit-n-Bull for food ordered in the bar. So, I ordered a chef salad and a pizza.

The previous time I was in The Green Room, the girls had been more aggressive in their pursuit of lady drinks. Last night I was still sitting alone when the pizza arrived, so I left it in the box, figuring I’d just carry it with me to the next bar I visited. Then I got a message from my pal Erik asking where I was, so I invited him and his girlfriend to join me for pizza, and they accepted. I was glad I found someone to enjoy the food.

In due course, the waitress advised that I had exhausted the 500 peso voucher (those gin and sodas aren’t cheap, especially the way I drink them). Another friend of Erik’s was at the bar, so they joined him, and I headed next door to Wet Spot.

The night before, when I was there after the SOB with the girls from Snackbar, I had invited my Wet Spot regular, Aine, to join us. She was very unfriendly, guzzled the drink I had bought her, and walked away. When I saw Aine last night, I confronted her about her rude behavior and asked why she had acted that way. “I was jealous.” Oh boy, that’s a red flag.

Anyway, I decided to be forgiving and allowed her to join me at my table. I’m not sure what got into me (well, other than a lot of gin), but before long, I had Aine and three waitresses imbibing at my table with me. That’s usually not my style. And then, I got a message from Lydell inviting me to join them at Kamto. Hoo boy. Well, it was still technically an hour before my bedtime, so I headed on up the street.

And it was a good time, from what I remember. A nice expat crowd, including Erik and his girl, Played some music, had some chats, bought a round of drinks for the ladies, and then I bailed out for home.

Now, I woke up during the night as I usually do, needing to take a pee. And that’s when I noticed, or rather felt, that I already had. Yep, I was sleeping at the wet spot, and not the good kind. It’s been a long time since I’ve pissed the bed. I think the last time it happened, I had dreamed I was standing at the toilet and woke up immediately when the wetness hit. I slept through the event last night.

Fuck, I’m turning into the stereotypical old man, it seems. Let’s hope this was a one-off event and won’t be repeated. What will I do if it does? It Depends. *ahem*

I’m going to treat myself to Sunday dinner at John’s place this evening. I might even go for a steak. Promised Joy I’d come by Hideaway, and it’s Rose’s birthday at Cheap Charlies. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me again. Oh well, someone has to do it.

Or at least pretending like I am.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just a quick recap of my more drunken interesting than usual Friday night.

I started out by dropping into my former haunt at Alley Cats. It was Billy’s birthday, so I brought her some brownies and a gift envelope. I stayed for two drinks, but the “cold shoulder” vibe I’d felt during my previous visit continued. I’m talking as much about the fellow customers as I am about the bargirls. Keep in mind this was my former hangout for over four years, and now I felt like a stranger. The good news is I don’t give a shit. If someone doesn’t like me enough even to be polite, I don’t want or need them in my life.

Since I decided to bail out early at Alley Cats, I still had time to make it to the SOB competition being held this week at Voodoo. My first visit there since I did the bar review last November. It’s a smaller bar, but there were still plenty of good seats left when I arrived. Since I don’t frequent this bar, I didn’t know any of the waitresses or dancers. I picked one dancer randomly to join me for some company during the show.

I was a little surprised when she told me she was 45 years old. That is the oldest dancer I’ve ever seen in a bar. Granted, she was still attractive, and despite having three kids, her body was in good shape.

She’s a touchy-feely kind of gal, and her friskiness in a public place made me a little uncomfortable. But the drinks were flowing, the show was going, and no one else was knowing. When the contest was over (Voodoo won), I said my goodnight to what’s-her-name and dragged my drunken ass out of the bar.

It wasn’t time to go home yet, though. There’s an event after the SOB called “Aftermath” featuring reduced drink prices and more discount coupons being raffled. It was being held next door at Hot Zone, so I popped in and drank some more.

Then things got a little fuzzy. Well, more than a little. I recall getting a text message from a female friend saying she had been waiting for a Jeepney home for a long time without any luck. I guess I invited her to join me at Hot Zone, and she agreed. And that’s where things go blank.

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning on my couch. That’s a first for me—no recollection of how or why I ended up there. I made my way to the bedroom, and my female friend was sleeping in my bed, fully clothed. I crawled in beside her and tried to go back to sleep, but I was kind of freaked out by the situation and my lack of memory as to how it came about.

My friend woke up around 4:30. According to her, I had invited her home with me, she had given me a massage, then I got up and fell asleep on the couch. Weird, that is so unlike me. I can see myself falling asleep during a massage but not moving to a very uncomfortable sofa. I can only assume that something happened that I don’t recall, and she isn’t telling me.

Anyway, she said she was ready to go home. I told her to wait a while; it was still dark outside. I offered to make her breakfast, but she insisted she wanted to leave now. It was raining too. I’m not going to make someone stay who doesn’t want to be here, but damn, I never walk these streets in the dark. But off we went, using my phone’s flashlight to provide a little bit of illumination. My unpaved shortcuts were out of the question under these circumstances, so it was a 15-minute walk to the highway. I brought Buddy along too. It wasn’t long before a Jeepney arrived and carried my friend homeward.

So, I brought a woman home, and she slept in my bed. And I didn’t. No sex or cuddling or anything. Well, I guess a massage that I don’t remember at all. And her insistence on leaving under the worst possible circumstances was mind-boggling. Something must have happened, but I have no idea what.

Oh, and she is still chatting with me like everything is cool and nothing has changed. And she sent a message that “next time” she’ll stay all day if I want. Huh? Why would I want there to be a next time when I can’t get my mind around the last time.

Weird shit, huh? I think I may need to recalibrate my plan to convert to gin and soda. Beer never made me lose my mind this way. Maybe having a big belly isn’t the worst option.

Shopping day, and even week to week I can see the inflationary impact on groceries, especially anything imported. On the other hand, I’m getting 55 pesos to the dollar; that’s the highest I’ve seen since I first started coming to the Philippines back in 2008. The lowest I’ve seen is 43, and I hope I never see that rate of exchange again.

After shopping, I had some lunch at Sit-n-Bull:

Facebook reminded me that it was four years ago when I got the call my lost Buddy had been found after going missing three days earlier:

I also came across this photo on Facebook and got a good chuckle:

I seem to be walking a different path, though. This TikTok video posted on the Althouse blog spoke to me in ways that seemed eerily responsive to my thoughts about whether I’m destined to die alone:

I guess there are worse fates. Oddly enough, when I woke up this morning, I had a song in my head called “The Loner.” It’s from Neil Young’s debut solo album released in 1969 (I was 14 then, if you are keeping track) and it was far from my favorite song on that record. In fact, I haven’t thought of it or heard it played in decades. Why I thought of it this morning is a mystery. Maybe I shouldn’t read too much into it.

There was a woman he knew
About a year or so ago
She had something that he needed
And he pleaded with her not to go
On the day that she left
He died but it did not show

Know when you see him
Nothing can free him
Step aside, open wide
It's the loner

Perhaps that’s my fate, but then again, everything can change in a New York minute.

Moving on, I may be alone, but I have a life, and part of that life involves drinking. I figured I’d spend at least a portion of my Tuesday evening on Baloy Beach. Last time I was out there at McCoy’s, they told me they didn’t have soda water. So on my way to the beach, I popped into 7/11 to buy a couple of cans, but they were sold out. Damn, well, I’m right next door to the Snackbar, and I know they have soda water, so I went in to get a couple to go. My friend was there and invited me to stay, but there was a Dick sitting outside, so I took a pass.

When I got to McCoy’s, the bartender pulled my regular beer out of the fridge, but I told her, “no, just give me a shot of gin. I brought my own soda.” She gave me a funny look and said we don’t have gin. I pointed at the bottle on the shelf, and she explained that is only sold by the bottle, not a drink. Ah yeah, the Filipino style is for a group of friends to buy a whole bottle and take turns doing shots. I should have known better. Well, I wasn’t going to break my diet, so I gave my soda water to the bartender and headed on up the beach to Johan’s.

I was the only customer in the place, and even a loner can be bored (it’s a regular bar, no bargirls). After a couple of drinks, I sent a message to my friend asking if the Dick was still at Snackbar. She said “yes, but he’s outside. Come inside and sit with me.” It seemed like my best option, so I walked on over.

I didn’t say anyting to the Dick when I walked inside. Sat down, ordered up my gin and soda, and chatted with my friend and her lovely staff of waitresses. Before too long, a couple of them started goofing around and dancing.

Anyway, as you can see, we were all having a good time. Inside at least. I don’t know what triggered it, but something happened, and the next thing I know, my friend was out in the parking lot yelling at the Dick. He wound up running away. When she came back in, she said he had been bad mouthing her to other customers. And not just her, one of the waitress played me a recording she had made of him trash talking about me. Of course, he didn’t have the balls to say anything to my face. A real Dick move. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with the guy, but he clearly has issues. He was bragging to people a few days ago about being engaged. Why he would care about me spending time with the woman who rejected him is a mystery. I don’t really give a shit, though. Just someone I’ll continue to avoid whenever possible.

Anyway, we didn’t let it cool our buzz. I had ordered food for the staff from Kamto and it arrived shortly after the incident, and we all chowed down. When the food was gone, I finished my drink and headed home for my 9 p.m. bedtime.

And there you have a snapshot from my so-called life.

And so it begins, the first day of my new life. It will be much like the old life but with less beer, healthier eating, and additional exercise. I weighed in today at 213.4, and I want to get under 200 again. The real goal though is reducing a beer belly that makes me look eight months pregnant. I feel like a picture of me must have been circulated that started this whole ‘men can have babies’ lie. Sorry for that!

Started the morning with a good long group walk on the backroads out to Waltermart in Subic. I’ll post those pics tomorrow. As is our custom, the after-hike food and beverages were at Kamto.

Came home and took a quick nap, then started a new workout routine.

We’ll know soon enough if I have the self-discipline to keep this up and reach my goals. Stay tuned.

I took advantage of my last night as a “free” man to engage in some serious beer drinking. Started at IDM, where the weekly raffle was to raise funds for Mike, the guy who got hit by a car last week.

Reports I’ve read say that Mike seems to be making slow but steady progress. He still can’t speak or move his left side but is responsive to voices and will give a thumbs up to visitors. He’s got a long road ahead of him, but from everything I’ve heard, this Marine is not one to give up. Good luck to you, sir!

Later on, I spent some time with my favorites at Cheap Charlies. It’s nice to have fun in that bar again. I had more than enough beers by the time I headed home. I guess I’ll be missing those days soon.

But life goes on, and this is Friday, and today the SOB will be held at Wet Spot. I’ll be there drinking gin and sodas and hoping I can pace myself so as to make it through the show.

Wish me luck!

A rainy Wednesday, and only Martin and I had the gumption to get out and walk anyway. As it turned out, we only needed our umbrellas for a few minutes, but given the wet conditions, we stayed on flat pavement for most of our 8K journey. Photos at the end of this post.

A good meeting with my doctor(s) yesterday. As I mentioned before, Dr. Jo runs the clinic, and her American husband assists, although he is not licensed to practice in the Philippines. My bloodwork results were mostly positive; I was only above normal in two categories. My glucose came in at 6.66 (I’m such a devil!), with the top of the normal range being 5.83. My blood uric acid was also high at 0.87, above the 0.51 ceiling for normal. The docs agreed that my plan to reduce beer consumption and improve my diet would likely bring my high readings back down. I was happy to see that my liver function and diabetes numbers were still not a problem.

What I most appreciated was having a consultation that lasted almost an hour and resulted in removing two of my six current drug prescriptions. They also modified my nebulizer juice’s ingredients, hopefully improving my lung function. My other big issue is my chronic sinus congestion, and the docs said that there were better alternatives to try other than surgery. I’m down with that. So, we’ll see how things go, but I’m happy to have found physicians I can trust right here in Barretto. Oh yeah, the visit and the juice for my nebulizer cost me a whopping 3700 pesos ($75).

At the conclusion of my appointment with Dr. Jo, it was beer o’clock, so I went to work. I’d promised Joy at Hideaway Bar a visit, and my custom of late is to provide the girls with a bite to eat. I stopped by Sit-n-Bull and got an order of lasagna for Joy and some chicken fingers and lumpia for the rest of the crew. They all seemed happy with their chow, but it did cost me a bit over 1000 pesos. Wouldn’t normally be a problem, but I hadn’t adequately filled my wallet for both a doctor’s visit and a night in the bars. Didn’t have my ATM card with me either, so my style was going to be a little cramped.

After a few beers at Hideaway, including a freebie from the owner, I headed up the highway for Cheap Charlies. It seemed like a fitting place to be given my reduced spending power.

I was keeping a mental tally of the total cost of my beers and lady drinks, and when the time came to stop spending, it was only 7:30. Damn, that is too early, even for me. In checking my nearly empty wallet, I saw that I had a drink coupon for The Green Room right across the street. I’d buy one and get one free, then head on home.

Except things didn’t work out that way. My two Green Room regulars joined me as soon as I sat down. I explained my situation and told them I could get them each one drink with no tip or no drink and 100 pesos each instead. They both wanted the drink even though the commission was less than my proposed tip. They told me they have a drink quota, and failure to meet it results in a reduced salary. Good to know, and I guess that explains the desperate pleas of “buy me drink” in some bars.

The CR (comfort room/restroom) is next door in the Wet Spot bar. I said my goodnight, then went to take a leak before catching a trike home. As I was leaving Wet Spot, I spotted Daddy Dave, the owner, at the “backslappers” table. I asked him if they accepted credit cards, and he told me that was not a problem. First time I’ve ever used my card in a bar (most don’t take them), but desperate times call for creative measures. I was peacefully enjoying my beer when I spotted Aine walking past my table. I hadn’t seen her since throwing a party for her 40th birthday at the bar. The same night she told me she had met someone and would be leaving the bar to be with him.

She didn’t see me as she went by, and I didn’t call out to her. I was definitely surprised to see her, though. I guess someone must have told her I was there because she showed up at my side a few minutes later. “What are you doing here?” I asked. She sat down and told me the common tale of the bargirl: the customer makes big promises, and they all turn out to be lies. She seemed to be taking it all in stride, so I invited her to sit down and bought her a drink. And later, another one after Daddy Dave sent me over a free beer. I called him out for his timing; since I had a fresh beer, I needed to buy Aine another drink. Well, that’s why Dave is a successful businessman, I guess.

Truth be told, it was nice spending some time with Aine again. Sorry things didn’t work out for her and that guy, but better she finds out sooner than later that he’s a liar. She’s been around long enough to know how that game is played (and maybe she’s played it herself, as far as I know). Anyway, the SOB is at Wet Spot this week, so I’ll see her again on Friday.

Here are a few photos from the Wednesday Walkers hike:

That’s all I have from the hike.

It’s the end of June and my last night of beer in the bars for a while (at least the month of July). I’ll still have a few on Hash Monday since there is no other option. (and no, not drinking at all is NOT an option).

See you next month!