It’s good, or at least forward moving (not bad). I’m 64, so mortality looms larger by the year.

… I don’t think you contemplate mortality very much in your youth, and that mindset lingers on for decades—thank God it does. You shouldn’t be fixated on that shit when you’re young, because accidents do happen, and yeah, children and young people die sometimes. But normally, the percentages are so damn low that people just don’t want to dwell on it or even think about it. Hell, it’s probably never a good idea to obsess over mortality at any age.

What happens, though, is that as you get older, you reach a point where you just know it can happen any day, any time. People drop dead regularly in their 50s, 60s, and 70s—it’s a fact of life. Sure, plenty make it into their 80s, and I’m fortunate that most of my family has done just that, without dying from all the typical crap like heart disease, cancer, and strokes that plague so many others.

I’m damn lucky in that regard, and it holds true on both sides of my family, not just one. I always think about it, yet here I am with uncles scattered all over the place in their 70s and 80s, and they’re doing just fine. I count myself among the fortunate: my father is 87 years old and still works every goddamn day, while my mother is 84 and somehow escaped what looked like a death sentence about a year ago.

I live isolated out here in Thailand. I can’t just stroll into some cushy setup like Kaiser or typical American medical care. The healthcare here? It’s a straight-up risky endeavor. Far better to be self-insured and pay as you go, but that’s a subject for another post entirely.

… As most people who’ve been reading my writings for a long time know, I’m an unconventional guy. I don’t subscribe to the endless chatter and yak-yak that so many males in this human species spew out, because to me, they’re always filtering their words through some pathetic lens: “What will my wife think? What will my girlfriend think? What will a woman think?” I just don’t do that shit. Hey, if that works for you, fine—knock yourself out. But me? I say what I want, I do what I want, and then I let grandmas and chicks alike just warm up to a man who’s his own man, not some try-hard filtering his every word to please her.

So now, what I’m gonna do is dive into a video I just made—and I explained the backstory in the video itself, but basically, it’s about how Pattaya is going through something that could be called a recession or outright depression. There are a number of reasons for it, but the primary ones I’ve seen floated by content creators here in Pattaya are, number one, they’ve priced themselves out of the market. That’s the big claim. The second one—and I’m gonna lay this out here rather than in the video, because I’m being more stern about it—is all the fucking young Indian males. Now, it’s not racist, but it is absolutely cultural, because there’s an enormous cultural difference with these guys. India is a massive country, and I know plenty of high-status Indians in my life, but these are your average Indian dudes showing up here, and they’re shocking everybody all the time with how low-IQ and culturally inept they are. Just leave it at that, okay?

One more thing: Because Pattaya is a transactional kind of environment, what happened is that these Indian tourists who came here could never get any sway just going around like every other dude from Western cultures does—from Americans, Australians, New Zealanders, to Europeans of all stripes. They couldn’t get a leg up. So what did they do? They brought in big money and, right on parts of Walking Street in Pattaya, they built about five or ten highly capitalized Indian clubs. Now, nobody goes in there except Indians and the few Thai girls who are okay with going with Indians—which is damn few.

In a typical nightclub—what they call a farang nightclub here (farang meaning white foreigner in Thai)—it’s a lot more women than men, and the pickings are great. But you step into one of these Indian nightclubs? It’s 90% Indian males and about 10% Thai women. That’s the cold, hard reality. And again, you’re gonna think I’m sounding racist, but it’s cultural, not racist. I have lots of Indian friends, but these guys are not at all understanding that they’re in a different culture, and they’re not adapting to that different culture one damn bit. And yet, if you observe them, guys holding hands with other guys and walking down the street five abreast with their arms around each other, it must be very dim for hot chicks in India. I digress.

I reiterate: MEN seek out hot pussy to pursue and fuck. There is no other way human civilization advances. Theorize all you want. I’ve just told you the base inviolable fundamental. Nice guys always finish last. Or, they never do as well, and they ultimately become like women in all important essentials.

I’ve got my own thing going down here in Pattaya, Thailand, and it’s been running for a solid 20 months now. But it’s only in the last two months that the girl in question has been living with me every single day and night. It’s a curious setup, no doubt about it—I’m 64 years old, and I’m realizing this might be the first time in my life that a woman about 20 years my junior has simply been wonderful for me.

Let me break it down for you through an email exchange I just had with another Asian woman. She’s older, but damn sharp when it comes to man-woman dynamics, and she’s someone I’ve met in the flesh. We’ve kept this dialogue going for years now, so here’s what she had to say.

What my friend is saying is that lots of women are sexy, they all know how to get a man, they all want to “marry up,” (Hypergamy) the smart Asians are just the best. They are.

Even if I know she’s being clever and real feelings are ambiguous, I’m still in. How can I not respect a gal who’s being critical, calculating, and thinking? This is why many classify Asian marriages as business arrangements. Westerners can’t even conceive of that (God gets in their way). Yet, they get horny, fuck, and raise many amazing smart children under the whip of familial and social shame. Being loving is not a life sentence for being dull, huck-huck, ridiculously religious, bleeding-heart, weepy, or stupid.

Because it’s fucking delightful. I am never berated or nagged. Ever. Asian gals know that’s the end of the road with all men. Asian men will just start cheating on them. It’s endemic. Farang men here in Thailand will start being “butterflies.” Chicks don’t get a pass, and civil society and public policy reflect that.

Be nice and sexy, or else.

That’s driven by male proclivities, even though on outward appearances, you might find Asian men to be a bit soft or effeminate. Maybe they’re clever too. Most Asian women simply accept it as a given that he’ll fuck around.

More important to Asian women, and this is universal, is that he do it in the proper context. That means 1 million percent privacy, and nobody she knows ever knows.

… To bring this to a close, I’m settled down and Far lives with me.

Dinner last night.

Breakfast this morning.

Later tonight, I’m going off to pay Sumitra a visit at a go-go bar. Far knows everything about it, it’s an OK. I’ve known Sumitra even longer than Far by a few weeks.

Both of them have watched me fuck other women and lick their pussies. Three others in Far’s case, two in Sumitra’s.

How do I get away with that?

Honesty.

I never sneak around. I tell them what I want and I ask nicely.

(it makes them horny to watch)

Hypergamy.