I Have No Game.

I was in the car with my roommate the other day and we were talking about what guys normally talk about - booze, video games, and broads.  I was telling him about how I met this very cute French girl through a yoga class and how I had just asked her out, to which he replied, "damn son, you just go for it don't you?"  I guess I do.  Later on in the conversation, we were recounting our sexless college years and why we did not (or could not) live the hedonistic college lifestyle of our peers.  He spent too much time in his dorm room playing online role playing games, while my explanation was, "I just had no game back then." 

His response surprised me and was a little off putting.  He told me, "Dude, you still don't have game.  You just don't give a fuck anymore."

Self-improvement has always been a big deal to me.  I was born with a great many talents and abilities, chief among them is my intelligence as well as my natural ability to make friends and connect with people.  I was not, however, born with any sort of innate ability with women.  Much of this blog has been recounting my adventures in dating as a single guy, and a lot of it has to do with "success stories."  Like any other guy, I get rejected far more than I get accepted - it's the nature of the game.  I also, in my life, started from a point of deep insecurity when it came to women.  It wasn't like starting from zero - for me, it was like starting from negative 100 when it came to my ability to relate romantically with the opposite sex.  I have done just about every "wrong" thing in the book when it comes to women - obsessed about girls who I didn't even talk to, tried to "friend" my way into relationships, took rejections as an indictment not just on my abilities, but my character.

I've done a lot of work since I was in my teens, not just with regards to my love life, but with regards to my life in general.  There was no epiphany moment - just a series of small improvements that led to a life of greater satisfaction and self-esteem.  But when my roommate told me he didn't think I had "game" I took it a little more personally than I thought.  One of the more abiding fears I have is that I am still the same awkward gangly teenager that I was before and that I haven't moved forward at all.  The thought that I was still as "bad" at "the game" as I was in my teens got at a core insecurity of mine.

But then I began to reconsider.  What, exactly, is "game?"  I found this question surprisingly difficult to answer.

In my roommate's conception of "game," it's a man's ability, using some combination of his innate characteristics and some verbal jousting, to get a woman become sexually interested in him at a higher rate than the average guy.  Indeed, there is an entire pick-up industry dedicated to teaching men lines and routines aimed to do exactly this.

And, my roommate is right - I do suck at this stuff.  I'm really bad at verbal jousting and "adversarial" flirtation.  I'm awful at being coy.  Maybe it's because I'm a really bad liar, but it doesn't really come naturally to me.  I'm terrible at saying something while implying something else.  I'm just no good at that wink and a smile stuff, and trust me, I've tried it.  The results have been awful.

But on the other hand, if we judge our "game" based on our results, then the story shifts.  If you want a guy who'll charm the socks off the hottest girl in the room, I might not be that guy.  But I am perfectly comfortable approaching a good looking woman and asking her for her number if I find her interesting.  I'm also, on the whole, happy with the kinds of women I've attracted in my life.  At the end of the day, isn't this the only thing that matters?

I love sports analogies.  I don't think that any professional basketball player will tell you that they emulate their "game" to mirror that of Michael Jordan.  They instead tailor their game to their strengths, through a lot of trial and error and practice.  Steve Kerr, the Chicago Bulls' deadly outside shooter from their championship years, couldn't play like MJ; in fact, he would likely fail and fail hard if he tried.  Instead he perfected his 3 point shot and became a key piece on a championship team.

Continuing at that analogy, I have long given up any notion of becoming a certain kind of "player archetype".  I can't do the bad boy thing - after all, I'm a nerd, and, at my core, I'm a genuinely nice guy (which must be distinguished from the "Nice Guy" archetype that assumes being nice is enough to get into a woman's pants).  I'm also, for better or worse, emotionally attuned.  Trying to be someone I'm not only further disassociates me from who I am. 

But getting out into the world and facing rejection also helped me realize that there were certain things I was good at.  Verbal jousting wasn't my thing, but, given my level of emotional awareness, I could reach deeper and get to know her on a more intimate level in a shorter time period than most people I know.  What also felt more natural to me was my ability to express desire without regret, which, after much rejection and a lot of time spent getting bruised in the dating game, has come to be something I do more naturally now. 

Connection and desire - those are the two things I'm good at, and those are the two things that I rely on as my bread and butter with all the women I'm interested in.  Does it work with all the women I am interested in?  Absolutely not.  And maybe I don't have "game."  But I do okay for myself, and that's what matters.

Scenes from a Wedding

I know I said I'd update all of you on my latest hot lead - the Kenya girl - but before I get to that, I'd like to recount a brief story of a wedding I went to in Chicago.

I'm entering my 30's this year, and, as is often the case, I've found myself going to a steady diet of weddings every spring and summer for the past 3 years.  After returning from Thailand, I barely had time to recover from jet lag before I had to go to my friend Lucky's wedding.  Lucky is actually 7 years or so older than me, but we met years prior in California and became fast friends, bonding on a mutual interest in Chicago sports, Chicago politics, and, well, everything Chicago.

Lucky's story of how he met his now-wife is a story of fearlessness and honesty.  He was stuck in a deteriorating relationship with a woman he had fallen out of love with but was bound to, at least temporarily, by a mutually signed lease.  They were no longer talking and no longer sleeping in the same room.  One night, he went out to Octoberfest and met a girl and went home with her that night.  The next day, he came home and his ex-girlfriend demanded to know where he had been the night before.  Instead of making up a lie, he told her the truth - that he had met and slept over at another woman's house.  His ex-girlfriend kicked him out of their apartment, and he proceeded to march over to the new girls house and explain to her exactly what happened.  She offered him a place to stay and, 3 years later, I'm attending their wedding.  It's the story of how a one night stand turned into something so much more and proof that sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction.  But crazy love stories like that are more common than you think when you listen to enough of them.

Anyways, back to my story.  I had initially put down a +1 for Lucky's wedding, but the implosion of my last relationship meant that I was flying solo.  But then I had a thought while I was in Thailand - why not do something crazy and see what happens.  Enter Kelly, the "perfect girl for me".  Well, according to my friends at least.

I had met Kelly years before though mutual friends who were looking to set us up.  She's cute, smart, and spunky; certainly my kind of girl.  One problem: Kelly had a long term boyfriend.  The problem, in my friends' eyes, was that this guy was a total loser.  He let himself go dramatically during their relationship, both physically (he got fat) and emotionally (didn't take care of her emotional needs at all).  She put up with it, as many do, out of love, or, more likely, habit.  Our friends hoped that putting us together might inspire her to realize that there were handsome, motivated single men out there and that she didn't have to settle for second rate.  And indeed, when her and I got together it was clear that there was a social connection there, but I have no interest in meddling in other people's relationships, and it was also very clear that she still loved this guy, despite all his faults, so we both seemed content to be friendly acquaintances. 

Fast forward a couple years and I'm sitting in Thailand without a date to a wedding in Chicago, where Kelly happens to live.  Kelly, by now, has finally broken up with her loser boyfriend, so I figure, what the hey, might as well shoot her an email and see whether she wants to go.  She responds: it's a date.

The wedding itself is gorgeous.  It's being held at the Art Institute of Chicago ballroom, a gorgeous venue complete with balcony and, for this wedding, a swing band to boot.  My date shows up a little late but we get right down too it - like before, the connection between us is immediate and transcendent.  It's always funny the reaction some people have on you.  Sometimes, connecting with someone is like pulling teeth, sometimes, we fit together like two puzzle pieces.

Well, mostly at least.  Of course, there was a catch.  Kelly had indeed broken up with her boyfriend several months ago, but she immediately took on a rebound lover who she was currently involved with.  Not only that, the boyfriend, being spurned, decided to "get his act together" and was working out and promising all the things he refused to provide before - commitment, marriage, emotional support, all that jazz.  Of course, she was torn between the familiarity of an old love, the fact that her rebound guy was actually a pretty nice guy, and now, me.  In other words, she was a hot mess.

Still, a connection was there and I figured that it was time to try something a little new: radical honesty.  Maybe it wasn't going to ever happen between me and Kelly - distance and circumstance seemed to be conspiring against us.  But that shouldn't stop me from expressing desire and attraction, dropping all the pretenses and putting my true intent out there without fear of rejection.  Getting from to the point of just putting out that you like someone is, for some, harder than a lot of people think, mainly because of the fear of rejection.  That's why you have guys who toil in the friend zone and awful stories of men (and some women) trying to "friend" their ways into relationships.  People hide their true intentions because they're afraid.

Of course, being afraid is normal, but letting those fears dictate your actions is where unattractiveness comes from.  So my resolution since the end of my last relationship has been to just be as expressive as possible, and act despite whatever reservations or fears I might have.  I was not sure what Kelly felt, but I knew what I felt - there was this attractive person in front of me who, while being a hot mess, I liked despite of everything.  And so I told her exactly that, without expectation and despite my anxieties.

Kelly's response was, initially, mostly of surprise.  She told me it's not often that someone just puts something like that out there.  And then the night took a turn for the romantic.  It was as if something opened up.  When I took her hand and brought her out to the dance floor, we talked about how we'd have our wedding right at this spot.  At the end of the night, she asked me to come get drinks with her... and I politely turned her down.  I told her that maybe after she sorted out all the other issues in her life, and if the universe brought us back together, I'd take her up on the offer.  I hailed her a cab, closed the door, and watched it speed away into the Chicago night.

I realized this night that radical honesty is not only attractive, but it's liberating.  It liberates one from fear.  After the words are said and the intent is made clear, then it's just a matter of sorting.  If love is a gift then there is really no such thing as rejection, just regifting.  I probably wont end up with Kelly, but we had a romantic time at a wedding... so I can happily check that one off the bucket list.

The Tale of Two Dates

It's been a while since I posted this blog, but here I am, up with an all too frequent bout of insomnia, so now's a good a time as any to update peoples on my comings and goings, especially in regards to my love life.  I'd like to say that I was out having out tons of romantic adventures during my 3 month hiatus, but I've just been absurdly busy with that other priority we call a "career".  I know, boring, right?  Other than a couple pretty lousy dates that I didn't feel the need to post about, it's been all quiet on that front, at least until recently.

I've actually been seeing two prospects right now, one I'll call the Reporter because, you guessed it, she's a reporter, and the other I'll call the Kenya girl because, well, she's currently off in Kenya until March.  Ick.  There are also a few other prospects on the radar, but they are only theoretical at this point and if they materialize into anything I'll post about them, but until then they exist ethereally in my mind.

I think that the three things that make up a romantic partnership are attraction, chemistry, and compatibility.  These three things are often confounded with one another, but they are actually pretty distinct, in my opinion.  Attraction is how physically attracted you feel about someone.  Another way of putting it is, how fast does this person make your head turn?  Compatibility is the least sexy but probably most important aspect of a relationship - it's the shared interests, values, and life goals that become the glue that hold a romantic partnership together.  Chemistry is the most "black box" variable in this entire equation - it's the combination of sometimes tangible and often intangible qualities of someone's personal style that inspire feeling and emotion within us.  Obviously these things are all correlated - you're more likely to feel physically attracted to someone with who you feel intense chemistry with, and sometimes vice versa.  But it's important not to confound the three concepts.  They are distinct.

Ideally, a relationship will feature all three, but sometimes entire relationships and marriages are based of two or just one of these ingredients.  An arranged marriage may feature only attraction and compatibility but no chemistry.  A companionate marriage may feature only compatibility.  A friends with benefits relationship may be based off of just sex and a brief window of compatible wants.  A one night stand could be just about attraction and nothing more.  If you've ever met someone who married someone else who was far less attractive than them, this is a great example of chemistry and compatibility with less attraction.

In the past few months, I've experienced at least two combinations of these variables - chemistry and compatibility minus attraction, attraction and compatibility minus chemistry.  If I look back far enough in my life, I also experienced a third combo long ago - chemistry and attraction minus compatibility, but that's a story for another blog post. 

So, the first story is the story of the archeologist - chemistry and compatibility without attraction.  She was one of the first girls I went out with when I got back from Thailand, and, yes, I met her through the internet.  She messaged me and seemed interesting enough paper as well as attractive enough by her pictures so I figured, what the heck, it's just a date right?  When we got together, I was stuck instantly by how well we got along - the chemistry between us was great, and we shared a lot of values and the same sense of humor.

But, there was a catch.  While her pictures made it seem like I could be attracted to her, in person she was just... borderline at best.  But the chemistry was so strong that I felt compelled to keep seeing her for at least a little, just to see whether the other two variables outweighed the first one.  On our second date, we made out a bunch and the clothes came off, but it ended there because I really couldn't get around the fact that I just didn't like seeing her naked.  Call me shallow if you will, but that was the rub unfortunately.  She was deeply upset when I had to end it with her because, by her admission, we had just great chemistry, and she was right.  But, to thine own self be true, as they say.

The second story is the story of the surgeon.  I met her through mutual friends - she was pretty, kind, smart, successful, and nerdy.  In other words, exactly the kind of girl I, theoretically want.  And, she liked me, my most important requirement.

However, after a few weeks of dating, it was abundantly clear that "something" was missing, that something was chemistry.  Put simply, I didn't feel it.  The attraction was there, and the compatibility was there, but the chemistry wasn't and the more I went out with her, the more I sort of felt as though it wasn't going to work.  When I kissed her, I felt as though I was doing it because I felt I should, and I simply didn't feel that spark. 

So, a couple tales of "close but no cigar" in the fall.  I'm still happy to have had these experiences, an am holding out for the girl who can hit all three cylinders... which brings me to the Kenya girl.  But, maybe next time.

My Father's Eyes

Growing up, I remember my father as a distant, stoic figure.  He was quick to assess critiques, but uncomfortable with being affectionate and loving, as if he himself didn't know how.  He raised me and my brother with the constant specter of disapproval, which made him like most Asian fathers.  Every now and then we'd catch flashes of warmth from him; a smile, sometimes even a laugh.  When I graduated from college, I remember seeing him as I was making my walk after having received my diploma.  His eyes beamed with pride, but sure enough when I saw him later he was quick to lecture me on how I blinked too much when nervous.

Needless to say, it was hard to be close to this man.  It was even harder after he and my mother began their long estrangement.  Me, my mom, and my brother had moved back to the United States while my dad kept his job in Thailand.  The plan was that my dad would continue to work in Thailand with the goal of returning to the US eventually.  He would come visit once or twice a year.  This did not work out.  One one of his trips back, something was wrong.  My mom sensed it immediately.  He had met another woman.

It was a difficult period in which tears and recriminations pierced the thin walls of our tiny apartment.  I awoke my brother during one of these arguments and told him that I wanted to leave, even though it was during the dead of a midwestern winter.  I wanted to be anywhere but there, trapped in a prison of my parents crumbling marriage.

My mom let us know that our father had absolved himself from the spirit of their marriage contract, even if they decided to continue to honor the legal one.  She was heartbroken and spent the better part of the next decade bitterly denouncing him to all who would listen as the man who ruined her life.  For the longest time, I shared in her bitterness and empathized with her status as the scorned party.  The distance between me and my father grew into a gulf.  It would take years for that gulf to close, and this essay recounts just the last part of that story.

One of the hallmarks of growing up is the moment when you recognize the humanity of your parents.  Growing up, especially in an Asian household, the word of my mother and father was like the word of God.  Obedience was not just expected, but required.  Rebellion meant not just a betrayal of the filial bond, but also a deep sign of ingratitude, the worst of the Confucian sins.  Seeing that your parents are human, seeing that they've made mistakes, and forgiving them for those mistakes is one of the benchmarks of a matured life.

On my latest trip to Thailand, my father and I bonded like we hadn't bonded before.  Mind you, this wasn't something that happened over night, but I on my subsequent trips to Thailand over the years, I saw in his eyes the regret of a man who wished he had been closer to his sons, and the sadness of a man who didn't know how to bridge that gap.

On one late night car ride though Bangkok traffic, my dad opened himself up to me in a way he never had before.  He said that one of the main teachings of the Buddha was the fleetingness of life.  That, in any given moment, for any given reason, the end may come swiftly.  Being prepared for this inevitability is part of getting old, and that he hoped that he had done enough of a job on this earth to die, in Thai terms "eyes closed," which means to die at peace.  He told me that when he does go, he'd hope that I would return to take care of his body, but that he would understand if I didn't.

There he was, a man who was both a monolith in my life, and yet a distant source of pain and sorrow, opening himself up to me and saying something he never could before.  I'm sorry.  Forgive me.

Accepting the humanity of your parents means forgiving them for their flaws.  I told him gently that I would certainly come back for him, when the time comes that he pass.  After all, he is my father, and I love him.

I remember when I was young.  My father was not an athlete and he did not raise athletic kids, but he was always okay at running.  He would take me out to the baseball diamond at the park near the house where I grew up and we would run around the baseball diamond until we couldn't run anymore.  He would beat me, until one day, he had to quit ten laps before I did.  He put his arms on his knees and watched me keep on running.  I remember as I made my last lap, I looked at him.  He simply said, "I got tired."  In his eyes though beamed with a love and pride of a father who knew his son was growing to be something more than him.  This is the memory I choose to keep of my father.  Maybe he couldn't always be with me, but I know he was always watching me with pride and regret from the sideline.

Love is not a commodity, but a gift

I like to say that I'm only have three really notable skills.  I was either born with these skills or developed them over time, I really couldn't tell you either way.  The first is the ability to effortlessly use words to form concise and artful sentences.  The second is the ability to establish intimate and long lasting friendships.  The third is the ability to make passionate love.  Ok, I'm only half joking about that last one: you'll have to confirm with my ex-girlfriends about that.

As I wind down my trip to Asia, I was ruminating recently about how many new friends I made here, how many old connections that were reinvigorated, and how many people I will miss when I leave.  This is something I've always been exceptionally good at: making friends, no matter where I go, and no matter with who, regardless of age, circumstance, or creed.  Give me a beer, two chairs, and a smile and I'll make a connection under most circumstances.

My trip ends in a week and most of my days are filled up with dinners I need to have, drinks I need to do, and we're not even covering time I'm spending with my two-week Thai girlfriend (more on that later).  I always joked that if I was as good with my romantic pursuits as I was with my fraternal ones, I could give up my day job and become a gigolo.

But then I wondered, is the process by which we make friends all that different from the process by which we pursue lovers?  While obviously they are not one and the same, aren't we just talking about establishing an emotional and social connection with someone?   I like to say that I don't make good sentences; rather, good sentences come to me.  I also never try to make friends, I just put myself out there and things tend to take care of themselves.

But when it comes to dating and romantic pursuits, I always considered this a deeply daunting task.  Going on dates, hitting on girls, going out on more dates, online dating, and onward and so forth.  Just thinking about it exhausted me, and I often joked that I could see the appeal of becoming a monk.  When Hannah and I broke up, one of my first reactions was, "Dear God, I need to get out there again.  I just don't know whether I have the wherewithal for getting back into the 'game' again."

As I thought more deeply about why I considered finding and making a romantic connection to be such a daunting task, I realized that it was due to a fundamental way I viewed the world of love.  That is that I viewed love as a commodity.  Not only a commodity, but a scarce one at that.  Love was something to be sought, and when "found", to be treasured.  If I think deeply, this might have to do with growing up in a family that saw the marriage between my mother and father slowly break down and dissolve over time.  The love they had for one another petered out and at the end, all that was left was sadness and recrimination.  Whether consciously or sub-consciously, I vowed to make all my relationships from then on "perfect."

Because of this, I put up requirements for all my potential lovers: they had to have these things in common with me, be of a certain type, be nerdy, be smart, be sweet.  But I think, most importantly, I put pressure on myself to "get it right".  Each interaction was a high stakes game of poker.  I either folded right away when I felt the hand I was dealt wasn't a winner, or I went all in and put my heart on the line.

When it comes to making friendships, though, I don't see things that way at all.  If I like you, I will tell you and I will want to get to know you.  I was at a train station off in the provinces of Thailand last week and I helped as translator for a man from New Zealand.  Afterwards I offered him my email address and told me to get in touch if he was ever in Bangkok and I'd buy him a drink.  He never did, but I didn't care: I was offering because I genuinely wanted to get to know him better.  I thought about this, and that's when I realized...

My friendship is a gift, and it's a gift I give freely and often.  I give it freely because I have so much of it.  I have an infinite supply of my ability and want to be your friend.  Why can't my love be the same thing?  If it's a gift that you have an infinite supply of, then you can't ever be mad if your gift is turned down.  If you give it freely, honestly, and genuinely, without a need for anything in return, then you can never be disappointed.

Dating and the pursuit of love can be seen like a game, but what I didn't realize before is that the stack that I hold behind my hand is as large as I want it to be.  People cordon themselves off because they think the love they have to give is finite.  It isn't.  My love is as big as I want it to be.  Anybody can be offered it, it's just up to me to package it and start giving it away.

And this leads me to my next two stories:  the story of the one night romance in Singapore and the only pick-up line you'll ever need, and the story of my two-week Thai girlfriend.  Stay tuned, dear readers, there is certainly more to come!

My Adventures as a Red Light District Spy and An Interview with a Thai Hooker

I hold a dual-Thai and American citizenship and am 100% Asian, but Thais rarely think I'm Thai.  This can be both irritating and useful.  Irritating because Thais are often talking to me like I'm a clueless Korean tourist and, for whatever reason, it makes it so I'm not as good of a vendor bargainer as I could be.  Useful because I can sometimes sneak into places where I normally couldn't go, like the famous (or rather infamous) Soi Cowboy red light district in Bangkok.

A little background: Soi Cowboy is an alleyway in the center of Bangkok that features a row of strip clubs and go-go bars, replete with beautiful Thai women and western tourists looking to check out the legendary "ping pong shows", a little cheap love with an exotic beauty, or maybe some of both.  It's called "Soi Cowboy" because many of the bars are western themed, but also because of the main catch: the place exists exclusively for foreigners.  Bouncers do not allow Thai locals into any of the establishments.  If you even look Thai at all, they stop you at the door and ask you for your passport.  Why this is, I'm uncertain.  From what I hear, it may be because the girls don't want their real life boyfriends coming in and causing a ruckus.  Or it may be because the girls want to preserve a degree of anonymity with their chosen professions.  In any case, the norm is generally strictly enforced.

So this is where my ability to seem so naturally foreign comes in handy.  Not that I frequent the red light district often (or ever), mind you, but one of my good friends was in town recently and wanted to see a famous show and maybe get a little female attention while we were at it.  So, I put on my American accent and went off to one of the seediest places in Bangkok, for the first time ever.

To say that Soi Cowboy is ostentatious would be an extreme understatement.  It is a place that stands out even among the bright lights and crowds of the massive metropolitan known as Bangkok to where it's absolutely unmistakable.  Bright red neon lights flood the street, which, at the later hours, is lined with heavily made up girls in four inch heels, beckoning passers by to stop inside the establishment of their employ and have a drink.  Cries of "Mister, mister, come inside" trail us as we walk down the the brightly lit street.  Interestingly, one of the girls is wearing these super cute hipster glasses and, aside from wearing a tube top about two sizes too small, is a girl that I'm surprisingly very attracted to.  Her shy grin wins me over, and that's the place we decide to go.

Inside, we see a line of foreigners seemingly in a trance staring at pole dancers dressed in nothing but cowboy hats and boots doing an acrobatic dance.  We sit down and order ourselves a drink: 400 baht for a beer, which is about US $12.50, normal club prices in the US, but absolutely exorbitantly expensive in Thailand.  And that's when the fun really starts.

Two girls immediately come over and start talking to us, trying to get us to buy them drinks.  One of the girls is a dark skinned beauty and she seems to have taken a special liking to me, for whatever reason, as she tells me in broken English that I'm hot and starts grinding against my leg.  First, it takes all of my conscious effort to respond to her in American English instead of Thai, and second, she must be an extremely good actor because I really did get the impression she thought I was hot.  I guess they don't call it the land of smiles for nothing.

While me and my friend are sharing our exorbitantly expensive beers with our new found groupies, I'm noticing that the girls on stage have changed from the acrobatic dancers to a row of girls who are just sorta club dancing to the music and who have numbers pinned to their tops.  At first I was a little confused, but then I realized that there were actually two types of girls who work at the club: dancers, and "company girls", or girls who are there for patron company.

The idea is this - if you see a girl who you like, you call over the hostess and tell her their number.  The girl then checks you out: if she likes what she sees, the she comes over and has a drink with you.  If she doesn't, you're told to try someone else.  Most girls there can speak decent enough English.  They come over, flirt with you, and if you really want to, you can take them out of the bar... for a price.

And, I think it's safe to say that the girls here are stunning, even for their chosen profession of dancer/hooker.  If there's a stereotype about Bangkok and Thailand that's true, it's that you really can get a beautiful girl for the right price.  

My friend is smitten with a dark skinned beauty on the stage and asks me to pick out a girl to make our party a foursome.  As a side note to all this description, at this stage I'm absolutely overwhelmed with the sensory overload that has been this place so far.  Soi Cowboy is really smack dab in the middle of the city: one instant I'm walking through the rainy Bangkok streets and the next, I'm in a strip club with a girl grinding up against my leg (I wasn't that into her so we sent her off).  I decide to play along, but mostly because I'm curious about the experience, and so I pick a very cute girl with a bubble booty (Asian girls with booty, now that's a rarity) and the next thing I know I have a pretty girl on my arm.  

I'll be upfront: I've never been into the sex for money thing.  I just don't believe in spending money for something that really should be free, but I also decline to pass judgement on consenting adults who do decide to partake in this commercial transaction for sex.  Not that I don't think it's part of an inherently exploitative patriarchal system, but I think that with two consenting adults at least it's an honest one.

So my friend decides he's so smitten with his girl that he wants to take her out of the bar.  This necessitates a fee that we have to pay the bar to take the girl outside.  It's how the bar ensures their take from these girls, and I'm assuming that the girl gets to keep whatever money her client gives her that night for herself.  This fee is about 800 baht (or 25 bucks) per girl, and my friend pays the fee for both his girl and mine.

All of a sudden we're off to a hotel and I'm thinking, wait a minute, I'm going to a hotel... with a hooker.  An extremely pretty girl, but a hooker none the less.  Am I actually going to go to bed with her?

The answer to that is... no.

We go to a local hotel right there in the red light district, which charges by the hour.  My friend goes into his personal room, and I go into mine and I have sort of a Holden Caulfield moment.  I'm sitting on the side of the bed and she's wondering what's wrong.  That's when I lay out my cards: I start speaking to her in Thai and I tell her she's a beautiful girl but I'm just not into the sex for money thing.  She is surprised when I start talking to her in Thai instead of English and I'm relieved to find out that she's actually pretty happy when I say I don't want to do anything with her.  After this, we head down to the hotel lobby, buy ourselves a couple plates of pad thai from the mobile pad thai stand (which might be the most awesome invention known to man kind) and I do what I do best: I talk to her.

And that's how I came to have an interview with a Thai hooker.

She turned out to be a pretty sweet girl really.  Unlike most of the girls she works with, she's actually from Bangkok.  Most Thai hookers/dancers are from the northern regions of Thailand which are much poorer.  Girls come to Bangkok telling their families that they're taking a corporate job, but end up turning tricks instead to make money and send back to their poor families in the provinces.  

My girl tells me she does pretty much the same thing, only her family lives in the Bangkok area.  Her working at Soi Cowboy makes sense: the foreigner only requirement means that she never runs into anybody she knows at work, as her profession is a shameful secret.  She tells me that hooking is actually very lucrative, and in a good month she can turn out as much as 80,000 baht a month, which is an upper income level for Thais.  

The work sounds grueling though.  She said she works 6 days (nights?) a week and only gets one day off (and gets required days off when she's on her period).  She said she chose me because she actually prefers Asian clients.  She likes the way they look and her ideal scenario is to meet a wealthy Korean businessman who will take her away from this job that she wasn't thrilled to have.  She said she almost had this and actually went to Korea to live with a client of hers once.  Alas, it didn't work out and she had to come back.

She said she has a boyfriend, who, of course, doesn't know about her extracurricular activities.  He thinks she works a late night job as a waitress.  Even more amazingly, she told me that he is an Asian Muslim!   She said she liked him but wasn't sure it could ever work out between them.  

Overall, it was an interesting and sort of sad tale from a decent pretty girl.  In a way, her job makes her a good deal of money and she feels empowered because she's essentially an independent contractor.  But on the other hand, she's a girl with little education and no experience so hooking is about the only thing she thinks she knows how to do.  

At the end of our interview, I asked her for her number or email, which she declined to give me.  I gave her my email address and asked her to keep in touch: I genuinely liked her and wanted to see what happened in her life.   I haven't heard from her yet, and I suppose I won't be hearing from her at all... and it makes sense I suppose.  After all, she is a Thai hooker, and I'm just some weird Thai-American guy who asked her all sorts of odd questions.  But it did make for a nice story, on my part at least.

Welcome to the Jungle

I've landed in Bangkok, and I'm sitting in a Starbucks writing a blog post.  I guess even thousands of miles from home, some things don't change.

I always feel a little strange when I come to Thailand.  I technically hold a Thai passport in addition to my US passport and am a dual citizen.  I spent 5 years of my youth in this country (ages 9-14), formative years for sure.  I'd like to say they were all positive, but they weren't.  I moved to Thailand too Americanized, and spent my awkward adolescent years learning a language I was only loosely familiar with, in a place I where I was neither foreign nor native.  I did pick up the language eventually, but being kicked around from Thai public schools (where I would routinely fail exams because I read and wrote at a preschool level) to elitist private international schools (where I was bullied for being skinny, ugly, and out of place) took a toll on my psyche.  I like to say I left with a trunk load of baggage: some of it good, some of it bad.  

It's because of these experiences, as well as my American accented Thai, that I always feel halfway out of place in my second country.  I love coming here, and I could see myself living here one day, but I think I'll always be perpetually half a foreigner, half a native. 

Anyways, here are some general observations I have about Bangkok; stuff that I notice immediately upon landing and getting out into the world.

- Thailand is known as the Land of Smiles, there's a reason for this.  The people are generally absurdly nice, but I think what's more the case is that Thailand is a service oriented country.  I'm struck by how absurdly helpful and polite service people are here.  Every interaction is absurdly deferential, as if you're doing them a favor just by existing there.  And they love foreigners and will go out of their way to make you feel at home.  For a culture that doesn't tip, it's kind of an amazing thing.

- The women in Thailand are absurdly beautiful.  If you like skinny Asian girls in heels, Bangkok is the place for you.  My friend and I joked that you could apply a "stones throw" method of gauging how beautiful the women are in Thailand.  That is, if you threw a rock into a crowd of people, there is a positive chance that you'd hit someone you'd probably sleep with without much of a second thought. 

- That being said, the women here (and the men, to a lesser extent) are afflicted a "Western standard of beauty".  Thai people are naturally darker skinned than their other Asian counterparts (Chinese, Korean, etc.).  For whatever reason, one of the standards of beauty here is lighter skin.  This is such a ingrained norm that women walk around with umbrellas in broad daylight, darker skinned women power themselves to the point where they look literally clownish, and dermatology is a big business here.  All the big movie stars are either light skinned Thais or half-white.  

- Thais have no qualms about saying things to you that would be considered extremely rude in other cultures.  This includes: calling you out for being tan, and calling you out for being fat.  I don't consider myself fat by any stretch of the imagination, but last year when I came maybe a few pounds over weight.  I got tired of the amount of crap I got about it, not just from family, but from casual acquaintances.  I guess that's why everybody's skinny here: unrelenting Asian weight shame.  If you think the weight shame in America is bad, you really haven't seen anything until you've been to Asia.

- It is really very very hard to pick up girls at bars and clubs in Thailand.  Why?  Because everything is table service.  Even in the clubs.  All table service.  And, not only that, but Thais generally go out in huge groups - like groups of 15 or more.  Combine all these things and it's generally pretty difficult to pick up strangers in Thailand.  From what I know, people usually meet each other through social circles  or are set up.  Online dating is mostly Thai girls looking for white guys.

- Thai people walk fucking slow.  I just had to say it.  Walking around here makes me want to scream.

- They also don't sweat.  I don't understand how this is possible.

- When I tell people in America I'm coming to Thailand, the response is usually "watch out for the lady boys".  It's a little irritating, but Thai transsexuals do have a reputation of being the best looking trannies in the world.  This is generally accurate.  I'm definitely seen and talked to some before and if you didn't talk to them, you'd think, wow, that's a hot girl.  But then you start talking to them and something is just... off.  Their voices are just a little deep, they're just a little too tall, their hands a little too big.  In any case, ladyboys hang out in very specific locations, as well as hookers.  If you don't go to the red light district or into massage parlors, you wont run into any, plain and simple.

Anyways, that's what I have for you all for now.  But, look for some cool Thailand related blog posts in the future.  This includes

- An interview with a Thai hooker and my experiences as a red light district spy.  This one will be fun to tell.

- The story of the worst date ever (it took place in Thailand).

Brief Update

Hello there to my (minuscule) readership!

I know I haven't written in over a week - it has been my goal to have at least one blog post/essay a week, but I've been busy preparing to make my big trip out to Southeast Asia for the month, so finding the time to pen a blog post has been difficult.  I'm leaving tomorrow (August the 29th) for a full month in the jungle.

I realize that most of this blog has been about dating, relationships, and sexual politics.  There are topics that I'm very much interested in, both as a veteran dater and bachelor, and, honestly, it's where a lot of my extracurricular passion for writing is derived from nowadays.  My one blog post on travel was written off the cuff, and looking back at it, it's a little lazy, and easily the weakest of my blog posts.  That being said, I'd love to develop my travel writing, especially since I'll be traveling for the next month, so look for more blog posts on my adventures abroad while I try to feel my way through developing this particular skill.

That being said, I have a ton of ideas for blog posts about all of the above.  This includes

- What it's like to move in and out of a new country (my personal story)
- A book review of "Attached".  Honestly, one of the most important books about relationships I've ever read.
- The story of my non-physical love affair with a married woman.  That one is a wowzer.
- My thoughts on sexual politics and the "commodity model" of sex.
- Whatever adventures I end up getting into while in Thailand (romantic or otherwise)

and more!  So stay tuned...

The Great Beyond

So it's been about a month since Hannah and I split, and I think I'm mostly over it.  I'd say maybe about 85% over it.  Seeing pictures of us together and driving by places where we went out doesn't make me feel that stabbing sensation in my chest anymore, and I realize now that she likely wasn't the right girl for me.  It's pretty typical to idealize a relationship right after you've broken up, but now that the dust of heartbreak has settled, I can look back and see that while she is a sweet girl, she just didn't really want to accommodate my relationship needs at all.  I'm not a very demanding guy, but I do have wants and needs, and I don't see relationships as a "zero-sum" game where one person getting their needs met means the other person needs to sacrifice their needs.  I think that Hannah saw our relationship dynamic that way, and reacted accordingly.

In any case, I know I'm better because I'm certainly thinking about her much less, and talking about her much less too.  The cold turkey thing is stunningly effective - I had her worked out of my system in more or less three weeks.  For the first three weeks, I kept on expecting or hoping that she'd be in touch; that she would send me a longing text, email, or show up at my door to tell me that she missed me.  That never happened, and, over time, that want faded away.  While there are still remnants there, and while I still miss her, I think I just miss being close to someone.  That's perfectly normal.

The question now is, what next?  There are generally two strategies to get over a breaking up.

1) "The only way to get over someone is to get under someone else."  AKA, the Rebound strategy.

2) "Take a break and rediscover who you are."  AKA, the Eat Pray Love strategy.

I'm sure both of these strategies are equally effective for different people, but for my part, I spent the better part of the last week doing the Rebound strategy.  Part of it is that a lot of men sort of adhere by that strategy and several of my guy friends were intent on getting me "back out there" to get my groove back.

Honestly, the results have been somewhat mixed.  Last Wednesday I went to a speed dating thing, which was an utter waste of my time and money.  I'd like to write a hilarious and funny story about it here, but there's not much to say other than it kinda sucked.  I'm really not sure how you can connect with someone based on five minutes of small talk, but I didn't feel it from a single woman there.  I think I checked no on all but maybe two of the ladies, and they must not have been feeling it too, because they did the same.  I left the speed dating event feeling down because I was reminded as to how much trial and error you have to go through to meet someone you really connect with.  I had a mini-heartbreak resurgence, and was tempted to give Hannah a call, but it quelled before I could do anything stupid.

The next day I went to a Cocktails for Choice fundraiser for planned parenthood thing (solo, no less) and decided to just wing it.  I was going to talk to people and not care about numbers or outcomes.   The ratio was absurdly favorable - 3:1 female to male, and all around the 20's to 30's age range.  And I actually did get a couple numbers out of there (though none I really care to call, for other reasons) and had an overall good time.  But I didn't really "feel it" with any of the ladies I talked too.  I don't know whether I was blocking myself or whether it was a legitimate lack of flirtatious energy.  It was a little exhilarating to go out solo and without a wing man and to just be brave.  It's nice to know that, at least when it comes to that, I'm still perfectly capable of overcoming my fear of introducing myself and talking to attractive women I don't know.

Finally, I went to a singles event with my good friend and mentor Jonathan, who functions very well as my go to wing man when I'm single.  Jonathan is single in his early 40's and is "unique" in that he actually likes women his own age, so we don't usually target the same demographic.  He has the wisdom of a man who's been single and in relationships all of his life - like a grizzled veteran who's seen all the moves, he can tell me exactly what's going on in certain situations and can talk me down from my neuroses.  We go to a lot of mixed age single events together where he talks to older ladies and I talk to younger ones, unless I happen to catch the eye of a cougar.

This event was some sort of absurd "Zodiac sign" event where people put their sign on their name tags and broke off into "compatible" groups.  I actually think astrology is a load of bunk, but hey, I can play along, especially since it seems as though so many women (even smart, scientific, logical thinking ones) really believe the stuff.

In any case, the event kinda sucked.  A lot of the guys there seemed to be really weird, and this scared away like 50% of the ladies before I could even talk to any of them.  I was about to cash in my chips for the night until Jason and I started to talk to these two nurses who were among the last women there. And, all of a sudden, it was totally on with me and one of the nurses.  I felt "it".  We were flirting.  Exchanging looks.  Touching.  Some guy came and tried to butt in, but she kept on looking my way.  I could tell that she wanted to keep talking to me.  She was a little older than me, but totally cute... maybe a bit cougarish, but what do I care?  Maybe she could've been a nice send off before my Southeast Asia trip...

But I froze.  I didn't ask for her number.  I don't know why.  It was right there, right in front of me, hanging slider right at the heart of the plate, and I let it fly by for a strike.

Afterwards, Jonathan asked me what I was thinking, and I didn't have any good answers.  I was definitely attracted to her.  But you know what, maybe it is too soon.  Maybe I'm just not suited for strategy no. 1.  My big trip to Southeast Asia is coming up, so maybe it's time to give strategy no. 2 a shot - Eat.  Pray. Love.

So, I bought a copy of Eat Pray Love, which I'm going to read on the plane, and my only goal for the month of September is to have an adventure every day I'm out there.  Whether this leads to food, friends, or love, who knows, all I know is that I want stories to tell when I come back.  Maybe it can help heal the scab that remains on my soul.

Dating as a End in and of Itself

I've always said that the real tragedy about breakups is not the relationship ending, but rather failing to learn any lessons from it ending.  In a way, despite the pain and anguish, a breakup offers us an opportunity to learn about ourselves and grow as human beings, after the dust of heartbreak settles.

In the weeks subsequent to my being dumped, I kept entertaining a recurring fantasy: that Hannah would come back, and that she would confess to me in tears that dumping me was the worst decision she'd ever made.  That she was wrong to give up a good guy like me so easily, and that she would regret that decision.  At the end of the conversation, I would turn her down, saying that I had moved on but that I wished her the best.

I told my therapist (who've I've been seeing sporadically for the last couple years) about this fantasy and we probed a bit deeper.  He said that this kind of fantasy is actually a soft revenge fantasy, sourced in vindictiveness and anger.  And that anger that we feel as spurned lovers is a mask for a deeper emotion: disappointment.

But where did this disappointment and anger come from?  While it is, of course, always a sad thing when a relationship end, why do some people handle it so much differently than others?  Why are some people bitter and vindictive, while others wistful, but appreciative?

This is where the concept of doing things as a means to an end as opposed to dating as an end in and of itself comes in.  This applies not just to dating, but how we handle all the things we do in life.  And this slight difference in view point makes all the world of difference in how we perceive things, especially when things go awry.

Seeing what we do as a means to an end means that we view our actions with an outcome in mind.  We go to school to get a degree.  We get the degree so we can get a job.  We work at our job so we can get money.  We use our money to buy stuff.  

On the other hand, seeing things as an end in and of itself means that we do things for the value we get out of doing them, independent of outcome.  We go to school because we love learning.  We work at our job because we enjoy what we do and it gives us great personal satisfaction.  

Apply this concept to dating.  If we were dating as a means to an end, what would that mean?  Well, think about our goals.  Assuming that most men want sex, then dating would be a means of getting laid (of course, this is not always the case, but often the case).  And assuming that most women want commitment/marriage, then dating would be a means to achieving that.  And when a relationship ends without either sex or marriage, what do we hear from the spurned?  Anger.  Vindictiveness.  A sense of betrayal.  "What a waste of time that relationship was."  "I wasted X years/months of my life for what?  For nothing!"  

Now look at it from the other perspective: dating as an end of itself.  Given this outlook, why do we date the people we date?  Because we are attracted to them, enjoy their company, and enjoy the shared intimacy and emotional connection with that person.  Does this mean we're not sad when relationships end?  Absolutely not.  A romantic partnership ending, like I said, is always a sad and disappointing affair.  But that added layer of anger, bitterness, and betrayal doesn't need to be there.  

When I look back at my long term relationship, I have nothing but fond memories of my time with her.  When I entered that relationship, we were two teenagers in college and we didn't know what we were signing up for and what was going to happen.  A long lasting and loving relationship blossomed without the weight of undue expectation.  And it was a very sad thing when it ended, but both of us can look back on our relationship like the end of a good novel: satisfied that we read it, but with  twinge of sadness and regret that a great story is over.

With me an Hannah on the other hand, I realize now that I was dating her with an end in mind.  I had been single for so long, and had been so long without the intimacy and security of a relationship, that I built an expectation within myself that she would become my girlfriend.  When she did, I was very happy, but when our brief relationship ended, I felt betrayed, disappointed, and angry.  The contract that I had written within myself was that if I could be kind enough to her, if I could be good enough in bed, if I could be a good enough boyfriend, then she would be my girlfriend.

When she decided to spontaneously exit our relationship, I felt as though my internal contract had been violated.  So instead of just dealing with the feelings of disappointment, sadness, and yearning that are natural with the heart-break process, I added an extra layer of betrayal, anger, and vindictiveness on top of it.  I felt as though I did my part: I was a good boyfriend, a great lover, and emotionally available.  I felt as though she didn't uphold her end of the bargain: to be my girlfriend and accept me as I was.

What I realize now is that not only did she not see our relationship the same way, but that she really did not owe me anything.  In her final emails to me, she told me how great of a time she had in our brief time together, and wished me luck.  I'm sure she'll remember me as the right man at the wrong time.  And now it's up to me to take that contract and rip it up.  Time to appreciate what I had, realize that we as human beings in relationships don't owe each other anything but ourselves in the moment, and recognize the moments I shared with Hannah that were beautiful, if brief.  

In dating, it behooves us to apply this concept of doing things as an end itself.  Why should we approach that girl?  Not because we want to get laid, but because we are attracted to her and want to know more about her.  Why should we go out with someone?  Because we want to get to know them better and spend time together.  Why should someone become our significant other?  Not for marriage, but for partnership.  

So, with that contract dissolved, I can look back and appreciate my relationship with Hannah, even if it was cut so tragically short.  If I'm sad it's because I miss being with a sexy, smart, kind, and fun girl.  If I'm disappointed, it's because we were going to have a great time together.  But, at the end, my brief relationship with her was good for my soul.  I know it, and am thankful for it.

Handling Getting Dumped

I suppose I should write about what inspired me to start this blog.

I haven't always been single.  In fact, I was "in a relationship" - facebook official and all that jazz - right up until I was unceremoniously dumped a little over two-weeks ago.  And a few years before that, I was in a long-term (seven years to be exact) relationship in which I, ultimately, was the dumper.  The former relationship, the heartbreak that ensued, and the blog reading that I did subsequently inspired me to start this blog.  The story behind both these relationships (one of them long, loving, healthy, and so far, the best I've ever had, and the other brutish and short) will be the subject of other blog posts.  But my personal observation on how to handle getting dumped (both from the perspective of the dumper and dumpee) is the subject of this specific blog post.

This is not a blog post about the 10 steps to get over your ex or some such nonsense.  Unlike those lying stupid romantic comedies in which relationships end on a whim and without tears, there is almost always an emotional casualty when relationships end.  Heartbreak is the price we pay for love.  And, the extent of our pain is correlated but not necessarily causally related with time.  Meaning that even though I was only with my latest ex (lets call her Hannah) for about 3 months, the pain was still devastating.  In fact, it may have been worse because I was firmly ensconced in the "happy world of possibility" stage of the relationship.

There's an important distinction between getting dumped and simply breaking up.  Often times, relationships breakup in a long and drawn out manner.  Think of it like a car gradually running out of gas.  Couples usually slowly fall out of love, stop having sex, start fighting more, and start the torturous process of breaking up and getting back together, until finally they decide they've had enough.  A dumping happens suddenly, with one party totally not expecting it.  So, conversely, as opposed to the relationship gradually grinding to a halt, it's more like a violent and disastrous car crash.  The emotional trauma of a breakup is already bad, but the trauma of getting dumped is magnified by the suddenness of it all.

So yes, that's exactly what happened to me about two weeks ago.  One day Hannah and I were lovey-dovey, happily and blissfully (at least I thought) in a relationship and spending copious amounts of time together and planning our summer adventures and beyond.  The next, she's weirdly cold and distant, and the next, I'm getting dumped.  Via email.

Okay, so it happening via email is not nearly as bad as getting dumped by post-it, but the text was more or less the same.  "I'm sorry.  I can't.  Don't hate me."

What I had interpreted as minor early relationship jitters turned into a twister that landed, laid waste to our admittedly brief but intense three month relationship, and left nothing but a giant smoldering pile of wreckage in the pit of my chest.  Yeah, it kinda sucked.

The first reaction I had, after the initial shock of it set it, was hysterical confusion.  What the heck just happened?  How did this happen?  What did I do?  And, the scariest question of all: what do I do now?

The first impulse of most people is to ask the dumpee why they're doing what they're doing, to not only understand what is going on but to make an attempt to renegotiate your way back into the relationship and make the pain and confusion go away.  This is not what I did, but I did ask her why she was doing what she was doing, and gently gave her a door to reconsider.  I asked Hannah whether she was sure that this was what she really wanted, and that she should maybe take some time and think about what she's doing.  She responded with an even more resolute email stating, more or less, that she realized that she was not ready for a relationship of any kind and the emotional obligation and messiness that all relationships have, at this stage of her life.

And this is where things can really go two ways.  Because, lets be honest.  Any answer the dumper gives is going to be unsatisfactory.  After all, this is the person who just took your still-beating heart, ripped it from your chest, and crushed right in front of your eyes, a la Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.  Nothing he or she really says is going to make much sense or make it much better.  In fact, they might as well be saying "Kali Ma" while they're doing it, because that would just as comprehensible.

And, well, often times reactions can be pretty damn extreme, especially if the dumpee has never been dumped or gotten their heart broken before.  I've heard and witnessed stories of non-stop calling, texting, cyber-stalking, physical stalking, property destruction, and (thankfully empty) threats of suicide all to get some emotional response out of the dumper in a desperate attempt to make them feel bad get them to realize the error of their ways and reengage in the relationship.

The harsh reality is that these things happen for a reason and that we can't make someone come back to us, or even make them explain themselves in a logical and coherent manner.  The only thing we, as dumpees, can do is conduct ourselves with dignity, class, and grace.  Often times, our dignity is the most important thing we can carry out of a relationship, and ironically, dignity is the first thing people are willing to give up when they are in the midst of heartbreak.

And this is where my former ex (lets call her Liz) comes in.  When I broke up with Liz, she also did not see it coming.  While, in retrospect, our relationship was clouded by doubt (mostly on my end) for years, when we were together we were a very happy and very healthy couple (the story of our breakup and the subsequent fallout for me will be the subject of a future blog post).  When I broke up with her, she was shocked and, understandably, absolutely devastated.  But she handled it with the utmost grace and dignity.  She cried, of course, and she was emotional and heartbroken.  But she was accepting of my reasons, didn't interrogate me, and didn't push or badger me emotionally.  She began the difficult healing process and committed to it.  She didn't call me in tears, didn't respond in anger, and didn't make me feel guilty for breaking her heart.  There is a reason why she remains one of the most awesome most emotionally mature people I know.

And, as I have done in the past, I took my cues from her.  I wished Hannah the best, and told her that I hoped she found what she was looking for in life.  I told her that I would need time to heal and I could not be her friend, at least for the near future.  I quietly unfriended her and the people I met through her from facebook, and I deleted her number from my phone and all her texts and email.  And I started the healing process on my own and committed myself to moving on.

One of the most important lessons I learned being single is that you can't control how other people react to you, you can only control how you respond to them.  I can't make Hannah come back to me, and I can't know whether she wants to or whether she's moving on blissfully with her life.  I don't know whether she's staying up at night crying herself to sleep over what she gave up or whether she's happily with some other man by now.  All I can do is look out for myself in this time of heartbreak, and that means doing what I need to do to move on.

So, thank you Liz, for showing me how to conduct myself with dignity, grace, and class.  A good relationship continues to teach you life lessons long after they're done, and for that, I'm forever thankful.

My Introduction

Hello there.  My (pseudo)name is The Doctor (a reference to Dr. Who and my chosen career, the non-white-coat wearing type of doctor) and this is my blog about dating, love, relationships, travel, and my journey in the pursuit of an awesome life.  And this is my introduction.

Here's a little bit about myself and who I am.  I'm in my late twenties.  I'm single.  I'm not white.  I live in an unspecified West Coast city.  I'm not particularly rich, but I do own a car, I have my own place, and I've been told I'm pretty handsome and smart.  I read an absurd amount, I love to travel, and I love to write.  Because of this, I usually don't have problems getting dates.  Whether those dates work out, well, that's another story.

Unlike most other men, I consider myself very emotionally attuned, which can be both a good and bad thing.  I also value finding that special someone in my life just as much as I value my professional career.  This means that I feel like I can connect with both men and women, and that I have a lot of thoughts and musings on love, dating, and relationships.

This blog is meant to chronicle my personal experiences in dating, travel, and my (often times) meandering, tragic, comic, reflective, sad, hopeful and adventurous pursuit of true love.  Welcome!