It’s gone. My energy. It has been sucked away into a void somewhere, and I’m back to my first trimester self when even contemplating doing anything more taxing than zoning out seems insurmountable. I make myself do things, but it’s exhausting. On the plus side, I can drink coffee this time around so that takes the edge off. However, I’m also carrying almost 20% more weight in the form of baby, so that probably evens out the equation.
So if we were meeting for coffee in real life, you’d probably tell me I need to get a second cup. And I’d think you’re probably right.
If we were really meeting over coffee, I’d have to tell you about this real
douchenozzle jerk not nice guy we met the other day. Now, as an expat living in Chiang Mai, there are three basic social groups of fellow expats you’ll generally run into: missionaries, backpacker-types on extended stay, and sexpats. And loath as I am to generalize about any particular crowd, I would say the sexpats are almost invariably obnoxious on every possible level. Not only do they come with the express desire to find cheap sex in the short term, and a subservient, young woman to take care of them for the long term (because they can’t take care of themselves), they’re almost all over 50, white, male, with a heavy colonialist superiority complex, incessant complainers about the country they’ve chosen to inhabit and its people, disrespectful, and rude.
Not to mention they fuel the sex industry, including underage girls and boys.
You could say we try to avoid these people. However, my dad happens to know one such man: a guy who used to come to our family’s restaurant in California and lives in Chiang Mai off and on (he had come out to marry one woman and ended up marrying her mother instead–I don’t even want to know the details of that story). They agreed to meet up for beers, and after imbibing said beers, they ended up spontaneously deciding to extend the visit at my house. I woke up from a nap on the couch as they came inside. This man promptly plopped himself down, and spying the bag of chips that Toby was snacking on, reached his hand out for the bag to ask for some, and said, “Thanks for offering.”
We might have, sir, had we been given the chance to. Although, at this point, I was already less inclined to provide any encouragement for him to stay because who does that?
Meanwhile, Dot was edging her way around this guy, with a kind of growl-bark deep in her throat. I’ve mentioned before that she is way more protective of me now that I’m pregnant, but she is usually very good about not barking at people we’ve let into the house. She’s not a yapper and somehow she has figured out that people invited into the home are welcome. Not so with this guy. Still, she wasn’t actively barking…just registering her suspicions, and this guy looked at her and said, “Well you’re an angry little shit, aren’t you?”
“Not angry. Just protective,” I said, though I really wanted to tell her that her instincts weren’t far off.
Then this guy announced that he’d heard Toby was a computer whiz. Toby modestly responded that he wasn’t a whiz, just a software designer, designing iPhone apps and such. So the guy says, “You’re going to have to show me how to download movies onto my computer and upload them to my TV.” We’ve barely met you, guy, and you come into my home, demanding my husband take time out of his busy schedule to show you how to pirate movies? I do fail to understand why some people think professionals in the tech industry are just itching to be everyone else’s unpaid volunteer tech support, but demanding free (and illegal) service from someone you just met hits a new level of uncouth.
He then asked Toby where he was from, and when Toby replied, “Atlanta,” the guy proceeded into a long spiel trying (and failing) to make fun of the way Atlantans say “Atlanta.”
All of this happened in the space of approximately 10 minutes. Any one of these incidents would be just awkward in isolation, but when he flung them out there one after the other like that, I began counting down the minutes until he might leave. Add to that a crass attitude, a clear sense of entitlement, and horribly off-color jokes, and it made for a real painful visit.
I’ve encouraged my dad to make friends with other expats out here, now that my parents have moved here, but man do I hope he steers clear of the sexpat crowd.
Anyway, it’s taken me about an hour and a half to write this post since I’m having so much trouble focusing. How about I turn it over to you? Tell me, what’s going on in your part of the world? Have you met any colorful characters lately?