Double your pleasure, double your fun…
I never really had a plan for life, I just reacted to it. Whenever I reached a crossroad, I chose a direction and followed the road without a clue as to where it might take me. I guess it is natural to wonder about the paths that would have led to a different life, but you only get to live the life you chose …
I posted the above to Facebook five years ago on the eve of my retirement and departure from Korea. I didn’t add a citation then, and I can’t remember whether it is something I wrote or read somewhere else. Either way, it’s as true now as it ever was.
So, let’s celebrate the milestone on this road of life called yesterday.
After grocery shopping, I paid the driver and sent him and my helper home with the groceries. I walked to the Harbor Pointe Mall to take care of some business.
I took a cab back home, but this one wasn’t metered. Before departing, I asked the driver how much to Barretto. When he said “500 pesos,” I told him to stop the cab; I’m getting out. I’m not a cheap Charlie, but I don’t like being scammed for any amount. The metered cab was a little over 200, and the last time I took an unmetered taxi ride home, it was 350. Well, the driver said, sorry, I meant 350. Whatever. I took the ride for that amount.
The mountain mama I support once again pleaded to give me a massage, and I relented. She does do a good job, but this time I declined the happy ending (and reduced her compensation accordingly). I honestly don’t know what has gotten into me lately, but I just have zero interest in transactional sex. I keep waiting for someone who wants to be with me with no expectation of compensation. Geez, I’d pay someone for that kind of loving. Yeah, that last line is me being funny (or trying to), but maybe I should consider hiring someone to be my companion. At least part-time. And yes, that’s inconsistent with my stated desire not to pay for it, but assuming I hired someone talented at pretending, it might work. We’ll see; I haven’t decided yet.
So, that brings us to last night. I went out a little early because I wanted to get a haircut. When I arrived at my regular shop, no barber was available (it’s more of a beauty salon-type place). My former barber was let go a couple of months ago, and the owner gave me my last couple of cuts, but she wasn’t around yesterday. I think it is time to take my business elsewhere.
So, now it is a little after four, and It Doesn’t Matter is right across the street, so that’s where I started my evening out. Again, not many customers, and still a sad vibe in the air. Bob’s remains are being buried at the American Veteran’s Cemetary in Angeles tomorrow. My regular waitress, Agnes, wasn’t around either, so I was drinking alone. And that led me to the idea of a theme for the night–two and out. I’d have two beers, then move on to the next venue. So, when my second bottle of Zero was empty, I paid my tab, said goodnight, and moved on.
I’d been craving a Philly cheesesteak sandwich for a few days, and John’s place has the best in town, so I made that my next stop. I got to chatting with my waitress, Veronica, and was really wowed. Pretty and can hold up her end of a conversation is an all too rare combination, at least in the places I tend to hang out. Alas, she revealed she is in a committed relationship, thereby crushing my newly formed fantasies.
I ordered some of John’s Korean-style chicken wings to go and my second beer for while I waited. When the wings arrived, and the beer was gone, I headed across the highway to Hideaway Bar. Since it was only Tuesday, they were surprised to see me. I acted like I had just been confused and told them to put the wings in the fridge for tomorrow. Of course, they weren’t having any of that nonsense.
Two beers for me and two drinks for Joy, and it was time to move the Twosday party to the next venue. As I departed Hideaway, I had no idea where that would be. So many options and so little time. I knew I wanted to finish at Queen Victoria to welcome Angie back after her week off from work, but there were thirty bars to choose from between there and where I was standing. I finally settled on Hot Zone.
I was the only customer when I first arrived, which in a girly bar can be a little uncomfortable. Owner Jay has a disciplined crew, though, and no one besieged me for drinks. Over the course of my two beers, a few other guys came in, further relieving the pressure. I was a little short on cash and didn’t want to splurge on lady drinks in a bar where I don’t really know any of the girls.
Two beers and out, then down the road to Queen Vic. I was disappointed to see that Angie wasn’t around (I was advised she was eating), but in almost no time, two acquaintances sat down on either side of me and started right in with flirty bargirl talk. When I ordered my second (and final) beer, I got each of my companions a drink too. A couple of minutes later, Angie came in, so we made room at the bar for her to join us. When my beer was gone, I was done (five bars, ten beers, if you’re keeping score).
I paid, left a sixty peso tip, and stepped outside to hail a trike. When I got home, I made a batch of sugar-free pudding, adding a banana and some raisins, then settled in to spend some time worshipping Satan. Keeping with my Twosday theme, I watched two episodes of Lucifer, then escaped to the peace that comes with sleep.
I have been fortunate and blessed…but the roads I have taken have led to some great adventures and life-altering experiences. A fool’s luck perhaps, but even so, I could never have imagined what my life would turn out to be; it has been a very nice ride. So it is time to look forward again…it will be an adventure with an uncertain outcome for sure…”
Was it me who wrote this?
As mentioned in the opening of this post, Facebook reminded me of what I was up to on my last day in Korea five years ago, including sharing the words above (whether I wrote them or not).
And I spent the dark hours that night visiting my haunts in Anjeong-ri and handing out chocolates to all my favorites.
I had a good run, just wish I had appreciated it more at the time. Oh well, that’s behind me, and what matters now is what lies ahead, starting with that lab work tomorrow morning.
I honestly don’t know what has gotten into me lately, but I just have zero interest in transactional sex.
I’d say that’s a good sign.
but maybe I should consider hiring someone to be my companion. At least part-time. And yes, that’s inconsistent with my stated desire not to pay for it, but assuming I hired someone talented at pretending, it might work. We’ll see; I haven’t decided yet.
I really don’t get the “I enjoy fooling myself” thing. To me, that would just feel hollow and insubstantial, not to mention a waste of time. This is why I made that “Captain Pike” joke so long ago: in the 1960s “Star Trek” series, Christopher Pike was so badly injured that he was unable to walk or talk. On a certain planet, alien beings capable of generating illusions allowed Pike to feel as if he were a young, healthy man capable of running around and having adventures. The whole thing was a sham, of course, but Pike was content to participate in the illusion/delusion. Very sad.
American Veteran’s Cemetary
Oh, noes! That’s close to the Stephen King spelling of “cemetery”: Sematary.
I informed her that a foodie like John would never MAKE a sandwich with anything other than real cheese.
For what it’s worth, the classic cheesesteak is made unapologetically with Cheez Whiz. The only other tolerated alternative is provolone. That’s it.
The most unique tip jar I think I’ve ever seen is at Queen Vic.
Interesting that “cunt” is above “asshole.” I’d switch those.
Good luck with your examination!
John,
I know you usually respond to comments, so maybe you didn’t see the one I left a week or so ago regarding your “donations”. (BTW, no offense taken if you did see and didn’t respond). In any case, you mentioned above that you had another donation request, so am reposting my earlier comment.
Here is my suggestion:
Find a legitimate local or semi local charity organization, though I realize that in and of itself may be difficult. I am thinking of something like the Salvation Army that has been vetted and spends the vast majority of its donations on its goals. Total up the amount you spend on your various individuals. Cut those people off, and donate that amount on a monthly basis to said charity. Get some business cards printed up with the charity’s contact info, mission statement, etc. When someone comes to you with their hand out, you hand out one of the business cards, explain to them your donation strategy and direct them to contact the charity. That way, you are still making a difference, and after a month or two, it should eliminate the pestering.
I wrote:
To me, that would just feel hollow and insubstantial, not to mention a waste of time.
Oops. Do you see my grammatical goof (not a comma this time: it’s something much bigger)? Here’s another chance to point and laugh like Nelson.
Honestly, I don’t. Even my Grammarly cheat didn’t help. Enlighten me, please.
Hey, Brian. Yes, I saw the comment about finding a charity and would have sworn I responded to you. One more example of my brain not being up to par lately. I liked your idea enough that I’ve included it in my “rich man fantasies” of things I’d do differently if I were wealthy. In the fantasy, I create and fund a charity like the one you describe.
Here in the real world, I’m kind of in a box. For example, the mountain mama relies on me for food and household expenses for her and three children (her American ex-husband was sending support but died last year, so I stepped in to fill the void). Cutting her off would be pretty devastating for them, and I’d feel guilty as hell about it. I budgeted 10,000 pesos per month (2500 weekly) in support, and that’s really not a problem for me. It’s the constant “emergencies” like utilities and medicine each week that are wearisome. I’m getting better at turning down her frequent requests for additional funds (even though she is willing to earn the money through massage services). Still, this is a charity project I volunteered for, and I think it is having a positive impact.
It’s all the other “nickel and dime” requests that wear me out. An occasional handout that is little more than pocket money to me is okay, but it never seems to end, and after you do it once, the frequency of these emergencies seems to grow exponentially. This is where I need to get better at just saying no, and maybe the charity referral you propose would alleviate some of the guilt associated with rejection.
Actually, when I first moved here, there was an orphanage in Olongapo City that I sponsored. My selfish motivation was to feel like I was making a difference while living “rich” in a poor country. After several months, both my driver and my helper took me aside and advised me I was being scammed–the food and money I was donating weren’t going to the kids. So, I started taking a more hands-on approach.
I’ll keep my eyes open for the kind of charity that might help the type of people I tend to get sucked into supporting. That will make telling individuals “no” much easier.
About that grammatical goof:
To me, that would just feel hollow and insubstantial, not to mention a waste of time.
The error here is one of parallelism. Normally, if you’re making a list, the items in the list need to be grammatically similar in structure and function.
Starting with the word “feel,” then, I list two adjectives: “hollow” and “insubstantial.” The third list item after “not to mention” should also be an adjective, but instead, I wrote a noun phrase: “a waste of time.” So that broke the pattern.
that would just feel
• hollow (adj.)
• insubstantial (adj.)
• a waste of time (noun phrase)
Had I been thinking more clearly, I should have written
To me, that would just feel hollow, insubstantial, and wasteful of my time.
Or, better—
To me, that would just feel like a hollow, insubstantial waste of time.
Grammatically, this changes the list to a noun phrase with coordinate adjectives in front of it (hollow, insubstantial), thus avoiding the whole list/parallelism problem.
Kev, well, there are some advantages to “fooling yourself,” especially when you go in eyes wide open with a purpose and objective in mind. In my experience, the fantasy of the joys that come with having a regular girlfriend never lives up to the realities that living day-to-day brings. It just seems that if I could hire the right “companion” for the hours I wanted one and be free when I didn’t could be an ideal solution. Again, I’m not talking only about sex; just someone to share adventures and hang out with when I want company, and to leave me alone when I don’t has some appeal. It would require the right woman and complete and upfront honesty about goals and intentions, but it might work. I didn’t see the Riker episode, but it doesn’t sound as off-putting to me as it is to you. We just have different perspectives, I guess. You seem to be completely at ease in a life of relative solitude; I always feel like I’m missing out on something.
Geez, I can’t believe spellcheck let me get away with that cemetery fuck up. Damn.
I also had no idea that Cheez Whiz was a legitimate ingredient for a cheesesteak. I was given a cheddar or mozzarella option when I ordered. Anyway, I liked it!
Okay, when you lay it all out like that, I see what you are saying, but the reality is I got your intended meaning the first time. Perhaps my blissful ignorance of the technical grammatical requirements serves some purpose after all. But thanks for the lesson! I’d never really thought of structural issues like this one before.
“And I don’t know
Oh, where I’m going
I just want to be left alone”
Tuesday’s Gone With The Wind
Sounds like Skynyrd wrote it for you McCrarey. RIP Gary Rossington(Born 5 Dec 1951, Jacksonville, FL. Died 5 March 2023, Milton, Georgia)
Doctor Jokes well here we go.
ME: Doctor it hurts when I do this.
DOCTOR: Don’t do that. That will be $200.
Soju: Good song, great band. Sorry to hear the news about Gary.
At least the doctors are cheaper here, but coincidentally, my blood work cost me almost $200 today.