Boy: I was going to make a sarcastic comment about one of your pics… but then I was like “shit, she’s really working that black dress.” So, there you have it; honesty.

Me: I’m intrigued. Sarcastic comment?

Boy: Oh yeah! It was where you say something about how running counteracts the effects of your eating habits, and I was going to say something like “looks like running didn’t really pay off…”, but yes, then I saw the black dress photo, and I was like “hold up, she’s kinda working that”. And yeah, I’m white, but when I think that shit, *I say it in my mind in a black voice*. Know what I mean? I’m sure you talk with your neck and snap your fingers, too.

Cut n’ pasted folks. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. File under: complisult.

And fyi, he was talking about the dress in this photo, which I only uploaded so I wasn’t the cliche only-head-shots-she-must-be-fat type of girl. Huh.

Ready, y’all? We’re going point form at it. Who’s excited? Answer: You are! You are!

• So, remember that bright, pink, awesome outfit I wore? Well that night was all sorts of debaucherous (and fun). Seriously. There are stories from that night not appropriate for Little Blog… although - I fully intend on posting some of the photos soon, and making leude innuendos to things that happened. KIDDING (as I see Naomi panic from the other side of the world).
• So I drank myself to the wee hours of the morning, each and every day over Full Moon (which is just code for: drunk party). And as we all know (way too well), I am not 22 anymore, but actually 27, which means post my body pretending it was young, it needed some serious me-me-me recuperating time. And yes, my good friends, this is exactly  what I’ve been doing the last 3 days. Nothing. Absolutely Nothing. I sleep. I read. I eat. I beach. I nap. I beach. I nap on the beach. I read on the beach. I get ice-cream on the beach.  Then, when night comes, I watch $1.50 movies on my laptop or stalk people on facebook. Brilliant. Life is brilliant.
• Last week I met a guy I really liked (don’t think I’m a slute, pleasenthankyou, other boy knows all this, and I was single). There was something about him. My type to a T. But also something new to him. So, me being me, made myself a plan; I just had to meet him. Problem was, he was with another girl. A beautiful, blonde, cute, skinny (egads… I always compare. whatever you do too) girl. But as I had had one too many drinks buckets, alcohol gave me the va-va-voom confidence to make a move (seriously. whoami?!). I saw him staring at me. And quickly moved in. Friendly, charming, “I lost my friend” (true story, btw), was I. And then within 5 minutes American Boy, Irish-Girl and I were chatting up a storm. They had just met 40 minutes before. Totally fair game. Right?!?  And then (then!!!) without me even doing anything, American Boy leaned in and whispered, You’re the most beautiful girl on the beach. I’ll meet you behind that sign in 2 minutes?  Sold! To the man with green eyes. I nodded (shut it you. it wasn’t like that). He made up an excuse. I continued talking to Irish Girl. Then said I needed the washroom. ((She’ll never have any idea - at least, I hope))). I KNOW, RIGHT?! Low move. ((or, as someone recently told me, “c**t move”)). But. But there was something about this guy. Something I needed to know. More than he’s sexy, and hot. And more than I was drunk happy. I just wanted to talk him. So we left the main party beach, and went for a long (re: 3+ hour walk) down the beautiful beach lit by the full moon. Eventually it started to pour. So we escaped to his little cottage-thing, conveniently close by (come to think of it, probably done on purpose on his part).  It was all very PG (not even 13). Don’t worry. I wouldn’t write about it, if it wasn’t. But I liked him, a lot. His sense of humour. His beliefs. His background. His stubble. Good God, his stubble… I ended up seeing him again. And then we parted ways; as all travelers who meet do. But then today he sent me a simple facebook message saying, “I loved meeting you.” Which obviously sent me into swoon mode. But. But I’ll never see him again. Which is fine. I knew that. But the point to this ramble is this, I hope I marry someone, that when we’re 90 and grey and crippled, my heart still flutters like it did for that boy on the beach, under the big, bright, full moon. 
• In other news. I have so many issues these days, I think I have to be single for my sanity. Seriously, I am too selfish right now in life to be with another person.
• So today, when 5pm hit, I realized I hadn’t spoken to anyone! Oh the life of a quiet traveler, but luck was on my side as a kind gentleman (of England fame who I met two days ago) knocked on my door to see if I wanted to eat dinner with him and his friend. Yes and please.A social gathering for three? Count me in!! I ate too much, but so the story goes…
• SO, I am utterly obsessed with The Vampire Diaries. Seriously, it’s bad. So bad, I was talking to this hot guy (see. above) and I sincerely hoped he’d bite my neck, Vampire-style .OHMYGOD TV HAS BRAINWASHED ME.
• I am incredibly excited to give my Christmas cards this year. Wait, you’ll see why…
• Christmas. Oh Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. Buutttttt sadly I am so not in the spirit this year. Like, at all. Firstly, how does Santa operate with sunshine and humidity? Pretty sure his sleigh needs snow. And I’m pretty sure the old man would over-heat to death in that Santa suit over here. See? Not in the spirit at all. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas. I need snow-snow-snow!
• I saw a scale on the street today, outside of a 7/11 and I seriously debated paying to weigh myself in public. I want to know my weight so badly… should we place bets now? Higher? Lower? The same?
• I’m still finding it hard to adjust to the Thai culture here. From their big cities, to small.  On the outside the culture is so conservative, yet the second the sun goes down, the Lady Boys and Prostitutes come out to play with the western world’s dirt, old, men. I stare those men in the eyes when I see them, and usually just feel sorry for them. 
• This. This is the best website ever. And I don’t even like law. 
• Confession. I signed up for online dating. YOU DID NOT (<— you). OH YES I DID (<— me). WHY ARE WE YELLING? (<— you) I don’t know… (<—me). It’s everything bizarre I thought it would be and them some. Hi, I’m Liz. Look at me! I’m sooo cool. I’m sooo cool. Please like me. Please be impressed by me. Very weird. But I think it’s gonna be FUN. And guess who’s gonna hear all about it? You Are! You are! (note: I just signed up out of curiosity. I am not actively looking).
• I miss running. Man, I’m gonna regret saying that soon. But really, I do. The schedules, the routine, the feeling after the run. I need it. I want it. I just can’t get enough of it. WHO AM I?!?
• The Hunger Games Part II exists nowhere on the island I’m on. I know this, because I literally stalked every book store looking for it.
• Tag Under: #FatGirlProblems.  My tan lines are awful.  My legs are super tanned, as are my north of my boobs, but my actual boobs, rump, ho-ha, and stomach? super super white. I look ridiculous naked. Good thing no one ever sees me in the nude.
• It’s my mom’s birthday on Monday (the 19th!!) I want to surprise her so badly, but I don’t know how. Balloons? Flowers? E-Card? all so lame… Wait, I have an idea… but mums the word for now (PUN!)
• It’s 12:51am right now. I need to snooze because I have a very busy beach day tomorrow. Then, to my horror, I’m flying into Bangkok tomorrow night. 

Goodbye sweet world, it was a pleasure.

Or on buses, or trains, or anywhere else seats go back. Why? Because I feel too bad for the stranger sitting behind me. It doesn’t matter if everyone has their seat back (including the person in front of me), or that I’m twisting and turning in discomfort. I just never put my seat back because I feel sorry for John Doe behind me.

Ridiculous, right? I know. 

I am probably one of the world’s biggest pushovers, always trying to please others, always doing what others want me to do. Never what truly pleases me. Never what makes me happy.  But don’t get me wrong, I don’t live my life in a constant state of misery-in-the-quest-to-make-others-happy state of mind, because generally I am very easy going. Sure, that works. Yup, I can do that too. Okay, that sounds great. Most of the time I just go with the flow, which actually suits me better.

But then there are times I need to stick up for myself.  Do what I want. Exactly, what I want. Not what they want, not what she wants, and especially not what he wants. 

I tried with him. I did. He tried too. We both tried. But it wasn’t meant to be.  I wanted so badly to please him, not hurt him, never taking a moment to stop and breath. Wait, what do I want?  I was always asking myself questions, then answering them how I thought he’d want them answered. And inevitably, it got messy, and I lost my direction trying to please him, not listening to my soul.

I so desperately wanted to like him more than I did. No, I wanted to love him. But it wasn’t there, and even though I knew that from the start, I tried, and tried, and tried. I wanted to please him. It didn’t really matter what I wanted. But that ‘it’ factor, I so look for, and so desire, it just wasn’t there for us, no matter how much I tried, or what I did.

It was no ones fault it didn’t work out.  But my fault it dragged on so long. Questions with no answers. Decisions being made, but the opposite ones of what I wanted. What I needed. What does he want? How can I make him happy? Maybe he’s right, it just takes time. That’s what the past few months have been. Ups. And downs. And the right decisions not being made. And me doing what I thought he wanted. Never sticking up for myself.

—-

Our skype call was 1 hour, 1 minute and 53 seconds. It’s over now. We’re going our separate ways. Finally, I was honest. I feel very sad, yet so relieved. It’s absolutely for the best. I was that girl with him, playing back and forth, simply because I was always trying to please. Never following my thoughts, never following my heart. I never quite knew what to do.

Over the last few months I’ve learnt two very valuable lessons. Number 1: just because I don’t know/get/understand my own feelings, doesn’t give me the right to mess with others. I hurt him. A lot. Unintentionally playing games with him. And for that, I am truly sorry.  And lesson number 2? I must always (a.l.w.ay.s.) do what makes me happy. Always follow my heart, and unfortunately, if that means someone getting hurt, I have to suck it up, bite the bullet, and just say how I feel.

He’s a wonderful person, and with all my heart I wish him the best. I know he’ll find his happy ending, nice guys always do.

And hopefully, of course, so will I…