May 2026.

She had huge icy blue eyes. They popped out of her face like a caricature. Possibly hyperthyroid. A human Bratz doll. I am obsessed. Wide set. Glassy, Caribbean-ocean light blue. A drastic contrast against her dark hair.

I can’t stop staring at her eyes man.

She’s wearing nothing but a kimono next to me on the couch and her lips are moving and sounds are coming out in her Italian accent, but I’m lost in a trance and I grab her face and start making out with her again.

Yesterday I went to the Cretya day club in Ubud. It was as scenic in real life as the Instagram pictures. Naturally I whipped out my phone to throw a pic on my Instagram story. To lure women. Because that is the only point of Instagram for a single guy.

I showed up by myself and wasn’t expecting much socially, but I was willing to put myself out there. I quickly met a British guy, handsome finance bro from London, who was also solo traveling. We hit it off. At first he was telling me about how burnt out he was from work. I say yeah man I get it, same. But I’m lying. I love my job and I have more energy than I’ve had since I was 22. I’m just trying to be a friend. We probably had double digit beers until sunset and just kept talking to pretty girls from all over the world.

Hovering around ten percent body fat right now so things were working.

Anyways. The Italian girl.

Her and a friend were standing at the bar. I gestured to my friend, stood up and walked up and said hi. Where are you from. Italy, the Almafi coast. She told me her visa was expiring soon and tomorrow would be her last day in Bali. Just my fucking luck. I asked her to come on a date for what would be her last night in Bali. Zero chance she says yes.

She said maybe. Ok. Fine. I get it. As a man in his 30s who’s been doing this for a long time, maybe means no. It’s the polite way to say no. I understand and respect that. It’s her last day and she actually has friends here, unlike me.

We followed each other on Instagram. Next day I’m at another beach club at an infinity pool overlooking the jungle. I expected her to have unfollowed me by now, but she hadn’t.

Had two mojitos. So I DM’d her and a Russian girl I met, but the Russian didn’t speak English and I was going back and forth with her in Russian using a translator app before asking myself what the fuck I’m even doing.

To my surprise the Italian girl responded and said she’s down. I go for the more aggressive play and invite her for dinner and drinks at my resort’s restaurant so we could be steps from my villa. Yeah I’ve read The Art of War. Tactical.

She said yes.

Now it’s one in the morning, she’s next to me on the couch and she’s wearing a kimono with nothing underneath and sending me places she recommends to eat in Canggu on Instagram. I thought this might be awkward because I can’t understand half the shit she says. But we have genuine chemistry.

I can’t believe this is my life.

And I’m thinking — Please.

Please just come to the US, baby. Forget the fact that you’re from the Amalfi Coast and spend all of your time in Italy or Ibiza or Tulum or Bali — you would just LOVE the Midwest United States.

Please, haha.

Outside of my villa’s bathroom there’s a stone tub that looks out over the jungle. She asks if we can go in.

Anything you want.

I run the water and walk away to fill two wine glasses with the Cabernet we ordered to the villa. She removes her kimono in the way you’d imagine a hot girl in a movie would.

We’re in the hot tub and she puts on music. We’re talking about mushrooms and she’s telling me about how she’s kinda over tuci and her favorite drug now is GHB. I’m not some fucking nerd, but I grew up with the knowledge that GHB was a date rape drug. Now hot girls are doing GHB recreationally.

This Italo-disco track comes on. It’s called “Spacer Woman.” She sets her wine glass down and makes her way over to me. We start kissing again.

Afterwards we’re sitting in the tub and my arm is around her. We’re staring at the silhouette of the moon above the jungle. People at work ask me why I’m here. To them it’s bewildering a doctor in his 30s would take a month off and do this. Well, this is why. You wouldn’t get it.

I told her I’m gonna go to Savaya in Uluwatu and see Gordo. Oh I know him, she says. Okay. Then she continues and she’s telling me about how she knows Jon Summit and the Keinemusik guys too.

Girl, I was gonna ask you if you want to marry me and get pregnant, but maybe not anymore. Maybe I should kill myself. Our kids would’ve had blue eyes. We could’ve done Sunday sauce. A big house with a yard and a pool. We could’ve had it all. You’ve ruined everything. You’re a professional booth baddie. Why are you like this. There’s always something critically wrong with you.

Maybe I should look in the mirror and realize I met this girl at a club in Bali, so what the hell did I expect. I do this shit to myself. I’m in love with hot women. I just want one to be perfect.

Whatever.

Come visit me in the US, I say.

She says come visit me in Ibiza this summer.

I’ll never see her again.