I have a 103-page Human Rights Watch report on the Muslim insurgency in southern Thailand to read by tomorrow. I'm only at page 22. I just went for a swim and I'm currently damn tired - my arms hurt, my legs hurt, my brain hurts.
And besides, I have something vaguely interesting and rather hilarious to write about from last night. It's also slightly tragic and once again I'm convinced that I'm going to remain single for the rest of my life, because...because I have bad luck with guys. Very bad luck. I mean, just look at the history of my pathetic love life; that in itself is more or less res ipsa loquitur.
Anyway, like I said, I decided to go to Clarke Quay with my cousins and their friends. But at 6.30 my parents coerced me into going out for dinner with them, when my initial plan was to read my Thailand article at night until it was time to go to Clarke Quay. Long story cut short, I was at Clarke Quay at, like, 9 p.m. My cousin and her friends were still having dinner. At first I sat at Starbucks (at Central) with a soy latte and a copy of Newsweek, alternately messaging Rui and reading the magazine. After a while it got damn cold, I was damn bored, so I decided to head to Clarke Quay to walk around and see what people do at Clarke Quay on a Saturday night and hopefully amuse myself.
And so there I was, walking innocuously, minding my own business, until I stopped at the fountain at the intersection of the four blocks, contemplating where to go. And just as I was about to walk in the direction of The Pump Room where a huge crowd had gathered outside just to see what the attraction was, someone said to me, "Excuse me."
Naturally I stopped, turned to the someone, and was like, "Yes?"
The first thought that came to mind was, This guy is lost and is asking for directions.
But he wasn't lost. He wasn't asking for directions. I don't even remember what his opening was, but he said that it was a major coincidence that he and I were standing at the same spot because he and his brother, this other dude who was pretty much silent throughout the whole thing, saw me from across the river and he thought that I was "just so beautiful".
Coincidence? I think not. In my head I was thinking, "Fuck, you followed me all the way here?!"
Then he went off on this weird-ass spiel about fate and meta-physics and how some greater force brought "us" together and how we had to go out for "the greater good", and he mentioned "our children".
LIKE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK. I swear, I almost died. He was wearing a cross and I was SO close to saying, "Uh, sorry, I don't date Christians." But I just stood there politely, half-amused, answering his questions about where I study and all that usual shit. He went on and on about a lot of weird stuff and after a while I was really just rather bored. I think it was quite obvious that I wanted to leave, because after a while he was like, "So. I'm asking you out. I know it's really direct but I can tell that you're going off and I can't let you go without asking you out. Can I take you to watch the new Tom Cruise movie? Next week?"
I almost said, "I hate Tom Cruise." But I bit it back and said that I had a paper due and that I had exams and that I was really not free.
Then he asked for my number. I said, "Give me yours. I'll text you." The plan was not to text, ever, and just get myself off the hook...but after I'd keyed his digits into my phone, he was all, "Give me a missed call. Are you calling?" And in the moment I didn't know how the fuck to get myself out of the bloody situation, so I pressed "call". Because I really didn't know what to do.
And so the plan did not work. And now I want to kill myself. Fortunately he hasn't texted or done anything with his possession of my phone number, and I hope he never does.
The entire encounter was just bizarre. I can't decide if it was better or worse than this incident, because...the guy, while better-looking but this isn't saying much because that guy from 2 years ago was FUCKING UGLY, was also damn weird. I mean, the entire spiel about fate and whatever else? Seriously? He mentioned that his brother was a cop and therefore it was a good thing that I was a law student or whatever, and once again I wanted to say, "Oh. Defence counsels and police don't really go well together." And maybe I should have, but I was trying to be polite. Maybe next time I won't try at all.
I only get hit on by the weirdest of weird people. It's bloody tragic and I'm not really seeing the hilarity yet, so hopefully someone else will and tell me why it's hilarious so that I can laugh it off and not feel sorry for myself.
And you know what's even more telling? The fact that I felt nothing at all when he said that I was "beautiful". Three times. It was like, Whatever. I really don't care. And I wasn't even flattered, and in fact I was really just rather tired. Because I just knew that once this weirdo got to know me - really know me - he'd run in the opposite direction. I mean, all the caustic remarks in my head, like when he said that he and his brother liked fishing I was thinking, "That's bloody cruel", all my negativity, and my emotional baggage - why the hell would anyone want to deal with it? I wouldn't want to deal with me if I were a guy.
And even if the weirdo wanted to deal with it, it doesn't mean that I'm interested in ever giving him any locus standi to do so. Because I'm not. I haven't yet figured out why working adults would want to date girls who are still in university and for some odd reason I have an inherent distrust in men who appear interested in dating me when they are, like, working?
I think I might sink into depression if my fucking pathetic love life doesn't take a turn for the better anytime soon. Because last night's incident only reaffirmed how damn tragic it all can be and I refuse to believe that I have to settle for less than what I fully deserve.
I am superficial - I'm sure everyone knows that. And therefore, I won't go out with a guy that I can't show off to the world. It's as simple as that. Because the showing off? It has to be mutual. I've mostly only dated good-looking guys and I really don't care if this is extremely callous and superficial, but I just won't date guys who aren't good-looking again. Remember my trophy boyfriend? I haven't abandoned that.
Anyway, so that was the vaguely interesting thing that happened last night. I found my cousins and their friends after while and we went, first, to the Arena, which was damn boring. The entire place was like dead. It was damn sad. There was a live rapper/singer sort of dude and black guys playing guitars which I thought was quite amusing, in a good way, and the performers on stage were really quite good, but the crowd was fucking dead. We were seated at the back and my cousin and I wanted to go dance but there was no one dancing up front, near the stage. What the hell?
Never go to the Arena. It's tragic. And they charged $17 for my Sex on the Beach which is bloody ridiculous. I was talking to one of my cousins' friend, this very pretty girl, and in my direction came this dude with hair slightly touching his shoulder. I glanced at him, he caught me looking, I glanced away - then he came over and was all, "Ladies, can I get you a drink?"
What the fuck!?!?!?!? Honestly I couldn't hear what he was saying so I let my cousin's friend take care of it. She was nice enough to say "maybe later". If it were me I would've said, "No, thanks."
And it really turns me off when guys refer to a group of girls (group meaning more than one) as 'ladies'. It's just so pretentious and slimy and...what's that word? Smarmy. And that is damn disgusting.
It's so hard to find sincerity nowadays. The only sincere people are your friends, and they are the people that you will never date.
But then again, what did I expect? I was at a club - enough said. But to be perfectly honest, I still don't give a damn.
Anyway, we got out of there after a while and headed to the Pump Room which was slightly better but...well, the dance floor was fucking packed and my other cousin and I tried to go up there a couple of times but it was just too packed. And there was people making out and feeling up each other nearly everywhere I turned on that tiny space which grossed me out like you wouldn't believe.
The crowd there was rather old. I felt like I was a kid in there and it was rather odd, but still fun.
My cousins' friend had this colleague with her whom I thought was quite cute. Japanese American, rather tall, fair-skinned, dark-haired. Kind of my type.
But then he opened his mouth to talk and I lost all interest.
At the Pump Room I saw him rubbing bodies with some chick on the dance floor and I was officially turned off.
And I ordered a gin tonic at the Pump Room just for the hell of it. I don't like the taste. Too bitter.
And so I went home after two drinks at 2 a.m. and found my dad waiting up for me.
My legs hurt through the night. I didn't feel sick.
Two drinks - more than enough.
As usual, I have not started on my term paper which is due 12 November.
I'm really quite sick of this semester and I can't wait for it to end. I'm sick of the studying, of school, of all the shit that I still can't put down. I need December to arrive. I need December 7 to pass without me getting all emo.
I need to realise, once and for all, that none of it matters. None of it mattered. None of it will ever matter.
I need a boyfriend. Soonish. An emergency one. And once I stop feeling bad, he can go. Haven't I always been like this? When did I stop being me and start being half the person that I've always been?
I still feel a stab of something negative whenever I think about Bangkok.
I know I have to realise that it's not my fault. But I also know that the instances in which I seem to believe it's not my fault were merely my vitriolic reaction to everything, a manifestation of the confusion that's yet to clear.
This whole...thing is really a lot harder than I'd thought it would be.
Ergo, emergency boyfriend. Soonish. Not now, but soonish.
Edited to add at 10.34 p.m.:
The report is damn depressing. I'm at page 60. It's different from reading newspaper articles about the violence in Thailand's south, because newspaper articles are scant on the details. The report is not. They tell you who the victims were, what kind of persons they were, and the manner in which they were murdered.
I can't take this shit. I am distraught and I feel like crying.