Who am I then?
That’s the modern translation of “What dost thou know me for?” , from Act 2 Scene 2 of Shakespeare’s King Lear.
It’s a question I’ve been asking myself for three consecutive days upon my return from Switzerland. Am I any of Kent’s reply to Oswald …
KENT: You’re a lowlife, a rascal who eats leftover scraps. You’re an ignoble, arrogant, shallow, vulgar, pretentious, conceited, filthy third-rate servant who thinks he’s something special. You’re a cowardly lawyer-loving bastard; a vain, brown-nosing, prissy scoundrel who’d pimp himself out to advance his career; a bag lady. You’re nothing but a lowlife, a beggar, a coward, and a pimp, the son and heir of a mutt bitch. I’ll beat you until you whine and cry if you deny the least bit of this.
I deny all of it.
Yet , keel over and cry is all I’ve done since returning home.
My first two sessions would not have been sessions at all if the people I met were not – human , men of the finest quality when it came to recognizing instantly that I was not Mistress So-And-So but rather a girl on the verge of emotional collapse.
“Are you ok, what can I get you?” said the first man who found himself standing in my foyer immediately after seeing me for the first time.
“A hug” I replied.
And so , we embraced. I imagine that in the 1000’s of play through scenarios he had of his session with me , not once did he envision he’d be embracing a meek girl on the verge of collapse to kick things off.
Truth be told, I didn’t want to come out publicly and write about such vulnerability , after all it makes more business sense to always portray myself in the public eye as a Mistress in control of every facet of life’s idiosyncrasies begat to me. So let me try to explain what’s going on with me. No. There is too much. Let me sum up …
Once upon a time … about a year ago , there was this Mistress who has this habit of making life goals for herself and once plotted is hell bent on fulfilling her own set destiny.
She made all preparations to live and study in Europe by ending her condo lease , getting admitted to a scholarly institution abroad , and basically jumped into a German immersion course to prepare.
I was gone. Admittedly , from about September the 1st onward – the day I negotiated a shortened 6 month lease renewal , I had checked out of Bangkok mentally. I was here physically but not in mind or spirit. You all know how much I fucking hate this place and it was pleasing to sit on my couch every night and smile at each passing second on the clock as it brought me closer and closer to ridding myself of living in this shit hole for good.
You see, since 9 years old , there has been nothing I want more in life than to shed myself of the stigma of being Thai. I would willingly subject myself to the most painful tortures conceivable if I could come out on the other side of it being stripped of all I ever was.
It’s more than a disease to be born here , it’s a heinous curse.
If you really want to understand the feeling of the curse , I recommend you get very high one night and watch Groundhog Day the movie over and over until it ceases to become a movie and instead becomes something you understand on an unconscious level.
Every morning when I wake up I literally say to myself …
D.J. #1: Okay, campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties ’cause it’s cooooold out there today.
Except I say “it’s hot out there today , it’s hot out there every day.”
Which is important , deadly important as it turned out because as much as I tried to imagine what Winter could be like , nothing could have prepared me for the purgatory that the word Cold brings with it.
When you walk around Switzerland and Germany in January and look at people – you see people who are pro at adapting to winter.
I guess I’m a rookie … with no intention of becoming pro lol.
“There’s something not right here” I kept telling myself. “I feel … cold.” Where have I heard that spoken before I asked myself?
I feel “cold” can have such endlessly deep meanings.
One of my life’s rules that I never ever stray from is to “set high standards for yourself and don’t settle for anything less. You are the best judge of yourself and your capabilities.”
Incorporating winter into my life is not something I’m ever going to settle for.
As well there is one more important thing I embraced one January morning over there.
Both the mindset and the perks that come with being a Mistress are two things that I simply won’t relinquish.
What is “proper” anyways. Behoven means to be necessary or proper for ; but I live in my own world where I couldn’t give a fucking rats ass about being proper. Is being a Mistress a “proper” line of work? Society would say no , but then again , society is made up of millions of people like those in Switzerland running on life’s treadmill counting Francs or Pesos and being owned by their countries government. I on the other hand buy whatever I want , whenever I want , in as much quantity as I want. I haven’t looked at a price tag in 7 years.
More importantly , I came from a life of such poverty that even the thought of looking at a price tag was an effort in futility because there was no way anything of value could ever be afforded.
So one thing I can guarantee you beyond a shadow of a doubt is that I am never ever going back to living like that again.
Being a Mistress means , above everything else , Freedom.
Freedom to be who I want. Freedom to do what I want. Freedom to buy what I want.
But here’s the greatest thing about being a mistress. I have the absolute freedom of making others buy me what I want , when I want.
How many women out there live their lives asking their significant other for a daily allowance , living on a perpetual budget , enslaved to fiscal responsibility.
I no longer live in that world.
But the price I have to pay for such freedom … is that I have to live in this physical geographical purgatory. In fact, I’m no longer going to refer to this place as t h a i l a n d , instead I”m calling it PGP.
Setting life goals has gotten me to where I am today.
The thing about taking massive, determined actions is that – when you don’t have an internal compass built in by the backbone of a proper education , it’s hard to know in which direction to point oneself.
What I do know is that with money comes power.
So making money is priority number one.
Money gives me autonomy over men.
Money gives me autonomy over any country policy.
Here in this blog you’ve seen I’ve included quotes … but quotes are made by people , and people are inherently self serving lying cockroaches. So any quote can be equally good as it is bad. Take for example the well known quote “money can’t buy happiness.”
It sure as fuck can. But more importantly, what money can buy is autonomy.
So here’s my quote : Money buys autonomy.
Since the definition of autonomy is : freedom from external control or influence.
And since freedom is the ultimate goal in life …. therefore , Money is good, and to extrapolate a bit further … money is happiness.
So whomever came up with that group-think quote that money can’t buy happiness can bend over and let me personally stick it right up their asshole.
Money doesn’t explain why I spent three days curled up on my sofa crying.
There’s the real reason … and there’s the reason I can publish.
Once when I was in Singapore I watched the evening news and immediately deemed it as “Happy News” , a news feed that was quite obviously controlled by whomever to suppress Thoughtcrime.
The happy news reason of why I’ve been crying is that I’m going to end up single forever. It’s a realization of the consequences of being a lifestyle Mistress.
I don’t want a slave husband or boyfriend.
You might fantasize that is what a Mistress like me is craving for in her life , and while I have some fantastic fantasy filled ideas of what I can do to leverage such a belief for my benefit … my real wants and desires couldn’t be further from the truth.
I want a guy that’s there when I need him , but is wise enough to leave me the fuck alone when I don’t need him close by. To that end , you should know that asking me “what are you thinking?” is a death nail for any relationship with a girl like me. Guys who know better not to ask that question are few and far between , so right off the bat I’ve lost 80% of the male population as potential suitors for myself.
I want a guy that has respect for my privacy and will back the fuck off from wanting password access to my phone, my Facebook , my blog , and whatever else I have the common sense to keep secret from anyone but me. Yet , it’s the first thing guys try to take dominion over when taking an interest in me and with my zero tolerance policy towards mingling men , more than a few have found themselves abruptly without the means of having contact with me ever again.
Poof, there’s another 10% of the male population gone.
I’ve mentioned that zero tolerance policy before in quite a few blogs. Zero tolerance with men means exactly that. Many men are shocked beyond the limits of their own pride that instant deletion is something that is irrevocable. Men simply can’t handle being deleted. Truth : every single ex-boyfriend of mine continues to this day to try to find someway to have contact with me. I don’t allow a single word of communication once I’ve deleted you.
It’s exquisite, hurting a man like that. I’ve done far worse than deleted all of you , I’ve hurt you. And I wish to … go on hurting you.
Like Khan , I feel the rush of a thousand ecstasy pills every time I see an ex try to message , email , or call me. Sickeningly , it gives me great pleasure knowing they are all still in pain , even years after the initial deletion.
I want a guy who not only makes as much money as I do , but is more than willing to share it just to appease me.
Sadly, “what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine” doesn’t sit well in the minds or stomachs of men , and now suddenly I’ve eliminated 99% of the male species for consideration of a relationship with me.
Remember that quote about setting high standards and not accepting anything less? When 1% of the male population is left to choose from , those unbreakable high standards really work against me.
Ok so , I’m gonna be single. Jaa warned me that this realization would happen one day. Here it is. If being alone wasn’t already enough to deal with , it’s having to be alone living among people I’ve awoken from that’s maddening to the point of tears …
“Where you gonna go? Where you gonna run? Where you gonna hide? That’s right. Nowhere. Because there’s no one like you …. left.
At least … I’ve added to my database places I know I can live in. I know I’m going to be a Mistress for quite some time because the lifestyle agrees with me. My new focus in life , the one I’ve taken baby steps in learning is Crypto-Currency , and I’m considering streaming on Twitch some of the games I’m playing. I’m pretty awful at PC gaming , but I’m more than certain I can mesmerize legions of men if they see this hot as fuck girl streaming online. Loyal followers pay in BitCoin on Twitch , and it makes sense to continue to have men throw money at me, so that’s where that line of thought is coming from.
What does thou dost know me for?
Who am I then?
A girl starting over. One plotting her next massive determined action.
All the while living as a rogue Mistress , slipping between the cracks unnoticed , unseen, avoiding all the Karla Homolka’s around me , and plotting my escape.