My wasted holiday

Over summer I spent a month in a certain south-east Asian country where I am considering relocating next year.  My plan was to check it out before making a firm decision, as my previous firm decision about where to live has turned out poorly.

I intended to try out an independent lifestyle of pursuing my own projects, staying fit and keeping myself active.  It was meant to be a dry run for my future life.

As for my whereabouts and activities in the first week, I think the less said the better.  But cheers to the person who was an invaluable guide and mentor.

Next, I spent three weeks in a large city staying in the same place and experiencing what normal life there might be like.

Well.

Some people’s failing is drugs.  For others, it is the management of their money.  And there are a few who are alcoholics or who are addicted to computer games, unhealthy food or even (in this day and age), television.

My vice is women.

You simply cannot dangle fresh, easy pussy in front of my face and expect to witness any wise behaviour from me.  I’ll chase it like a toddler going after a ball as it bounces onto a busy road.

If I am dropped into a city where endless young, cute girls are interested in going out with me, all my willpower simply flies out the window.  I get up in the morning, check my messages, arrange dates, go out with girls, and in the rare case that the girl doesn’t want go home with me after the first date then I start trolling for someone else.

Then I shag, then she goes home, then I get lazy because my biological imperative has been temporarily satisfied and there’s no meta-point in doing anything else.  I read blogs, mess around, sleep, hopefully do some perfunctory exercise the next morning and the cycle repeats.

I was meant to complete some work while out of country and enjoying proper internet access.  Only the most vital tasks got done.  I was meant to be editing two manuscripts and perhaps even publishing one.  That didn’t happen.  Notice how my sentences of failure are all in the passive voice?  I didn’t finish my work.  There.

I said to a friend, I am going to die.  After a long drought I was bedding a ridiculous number of women – a different one almost every day over the first week.  It was too much.  Dating girls means drama, and drama I had.  I won’t give you all the details as I suspect you don’t much care, but the first one I met was a loony stalker who walked by my condo as I was waiting for a taxi with a different girl and I had to suavely hide us behind a giant yellow statue of a snail and pretend everything was cool, then the one from the snail later caught me with a third girl at a mall; several asked me for money (not what a whore’s fee would be, but still), and one I fled from twenty minutes after meeting her when I realized she was almost certainly underage.  This kind of shit ends up occupying 100% of my microscopic brain space and prevents me from doing anything more constructive with my time.

I’m not whining.  I met some nice girls and we went out and saw historical things.  I had interesting conversations.  I learned a lot about the country and really got to like its cheerful people.  They’re not necessarily the sharpest knives in the drawer but their upbeat nature largely makes up for it.  Compared to where I am now they are flipping teddy bears and I want to cuddle them all.

Long story short, I can’t live like that permanently.  It was fine for a few weeks on holiday but I must exercise self-control if I am to set up permanently in that region.

Here are the rules I’ve decided I must set myself in order to avoid complete dissipation next year, after a well-earned fortnight or two spent blowing off steam:

  1. No messaging girls until after four p.m. AND I have completed my assigned tasks for the day.  No exceptions.
  2. Set up a serious exercise schedule and stick to it.
  3. Find a cheap market, buy veggies etc., and cook. The food in that country’s eateries is notoriously unhealthy for several simultaneous reasons.
  4. This is the hardest one: limit the number of new girls I meet.  How low I set the limit shall depend on the size of the town.  A constant supply of fresh pussy clouds my mind and makes any other, more complex task impossible.  I simply can’t focus on my work with all that dopamine floating around my system.

A strange thing I learned from this experience is that I am at my most productive when I am most miserable.  The first time I tried to write a book was way back when I was a seemingly incorrigible incel.  The second time was after a heartbreak and I barely dated for a year.  The third time was here, tearing my hair out in Bumfuckistan.

Am I really able to get things done when I have WiFi, running water, a full belly and empty balls?  It remains to be seen.  I hope that as I age my obsession may wane and I can maintain a sensible balance in my life.

The positive aspect of my little bout of debauchery is, my urges have been sated for a while and I feel much more comfortable back here in the desert.  Perhaps it was just something I had to do.

What about you?  What is your weakness?

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3 comments

  1. luisman · January 3

    😀 😀 😀
    When I moved here over 10 years ago, I was soaked in dopamin for about 2 years. It fades after some time and the main rule is, to stick to your budget during this phase. It’s unavoidable. That’s why I warned you about going off without sufficient funds to get you over the first few years. I’ve seen too many people blow it all in the first 2-3 years, in the end having to borrow the money for the plane ticket home. Again: forget your new 4 rules, as you will break them every day. Enjoy your “getting to know the new country” phase w/o any guilt and strictly stick to your budget, because if you don’t, it will break you. Later on, when you know your way around, and around the pitfalls, you’ll become productive again.

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  2. dickycone · January 3

    “several asked me for money (not what a whore’s fee would be, but still)”

    They call them “arañas” (spiders) in my wife’s country. I just call them semi-pros.

    I don’t know if I have a productivity-sapping weakness. Maybe napping was a weakness back when I was single and childless (no time for it now). I’m very good at making a list of things that need to be done such as studying, working out, work, cooking, cleaning and getting at least the urgent ones done. It’s to the point that it’s difficult for me to understand why most people can’t do things like be in shape or learn the language of the foreign country in which they live.

    I did about a half a year in eastern Europe without working once. I found that the key to avoiding lethargy was to have some goals and devote a specific amount of time to them each day. For example, at least two hours of studying the local language and two hours of working on the programming project I was doing at the time each day, as well as a workout unless it was a rest day. Clean the kitchen and the bathroom at least once a week. If I got those things done, no guilt about spending the rest of the time napping, playing video games, or rolling around in bed with one of the local hotties.

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  3. Vincent · January 4

    You call it a weakness, because you set yourself a different target: to write. But true art is written with the coc k and balls as Picasso or the other fellow or Lawrence or Joyce or Eric Gill may have said. It can’t be done as an outstanding task like organizing your sock drawer or doing a tax return. One day you will write with all yourself . Perhaps life will shackle you so you have nothing else to satisfy that hunger. Or your erotic landscape will be hijacked by a different aesthetic. Or you will be held hostage hypnotized by a powerful woman who will nurse you when you are helpless and seriously ill she will marry you, threaten you with castration and mean it if you carry on as before

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