Lin (Linda May Testert) was almost finished rubbing the high-SPF suntan lotion into Lan’s (Lancaster Edwin Morris) shoulders when a feeling she could not name rose up inside her, and an unfamiliar voice whispered Why him?

It startled her so badly that she dropped the lotion bottle right onto her new husband’s back. He flinched. Automatically, she said “Whoops! Sorry dear, seems I’ve gotten the bottle all slippery. ”

Lan hmphed, and looked like he was about to reprimand her, but swallowed his anger at the last moment and said “That’s okay, my dear. These things happen. ”

How easily you lie, said the new voice. And did you see that? Married three days, and he’s already treating you like the help. What a lovely marriage this will be.

Lin looked up and down the beach, looking for the source of this new voice. But that was silly. The voice was whispering in her ear. She would have known if anyone had gotten that close to her.

She finished rubbing the suntan lotion into Lan’s back, and paused for a moment, thinking maybe he would… but no, of course he wouldn’t thank her. She should have known.

After all, if the situation were reversed, neither would she.

Lin lay back down on the blanket they were sharing (isn’t that the kind of thing married couples do?), but couldn’t get comfortable, so she sat back up. But then she felt conspicuous, so she laid back down. Then sat back up. This cycle repeated a half dozen times before she caught hold of herself and forced herself to lay down and stay there.

Lan, of course, neither noticed nor cared.

Which was typical of him. She wondered how on Earth she could have missed how fundamentally selfish he was when they were courting. She realized now that he had always been distant and aloof, even when he was down on one knee proposing to her. It was as though he was an actor in a play who was just a little too tired to be convincing. And he was like that all the time.

But when they were courting, all she could thinking about was how suitable he was. Unbelievably handsome, extremely athletic, from an excellent family with a long history of turning out world leaders in every possible field.

He’s a person, said the voice, not a racehorse.

And it’s not like she had been forced to marry him. She chose him and fell in love with him, in that order. A girl in her position had dozens of suitors, of every possible kind. And of all of them, she had chosen him.

She just couldn’t quite remember why.

Because you knew your father would approve of him, supplied the voice. So handsome, so well-bred, so well-educated, so presentable, so… nonthreatening.

Unbidden, all the rumours about him that her venomous cousins had been all too happy to tell her began swirling around in her head. Rumors that Lan had no interest in women. That there had been a long string of incidents involving him and the other boys at school going all the way back to his first year of school. That he was a nasty boy who liked nasty things, and that she would have been better off marrying a toad, “because at least the toad has a chance of turning into a prince some day”.

And what about that “men only” lodge he’s so fond of? said the voice.

Could she really have married…. a homosexual?

She thought back to their wedding night. It had been a disaster. She had bathed and cleansed and primped and preened and dressed up in the wonderful frilly things she had bought just for this occasion, and joined him in bed, libido racing.

And he had just stared at her in the strangest way, like she was a dangerous animal.

Then he’d abruptly gotten out of bed, mumbling something about needing to freshen up, and locked himself in the bathroom.

And didn’t come out again for three hours.

When he finally emerged, he was fully erect, and said “Okay, let’s do this!” then entered her roughly and clumsily. A dozen thrusts, a hasty ejaculation, and he was spent.

And the way he had looked at her after, right before determinedly going to sleep. That look that said “Say one word about my performance, and you will regret it for the rest of your life. ”

But he’s so suitable, she thought. And it was such a lovely wedding.

She looked at her “catch” of a husband with new eyes. So he wasn’t her knight in shining ardor. So what? A girl… no, she corrected herself, a woman… in her position had many other ways to get her needs met discreetly. Her cousins had told her about those, too. Certain spas that offered special services for those in the know. Fully qualified private tutors who came with a satisfaction guaranteed and extremely clever cover stories for why they spent time alone together. And so on.

And she was sure he would be ready and presentable for social appearances. Nobody need know a thing about his… eccentricities. He could spend time at his “lodge”, she could busy herself with highly suitable charity activities, and they could lead their separate lives in peace and harmony.

Sure, she had hoped for true romance, but while romance was lovely, it was hardly necessary. She was perfectly capable of living without it. She would simply do was was expected of her, and make her own arrangements for everything else. The world would see a perfect couple, her father would be proud of her, and everything would be just fine.

Suddenly, Lin remembered where she had heard all this before. It bad been a punishingly cold winter day, and she had been having tea with a woman she had barely met and had hardly known.

And at that same moment, she recognized the voice that had been whispering in her ear.

It had been her mother.

Her mother had been right about everything.

I’m writing my blog before I eat dinner instead of after tonight.

I know, I know…. I’m amazing. Please keep your gasps of astonishment at my brazen audacity to a minimum. After all, I am trying to write here.

Not a huge heck of a lot has happened since yesterday. Oh right! I did a video, natch.

(Video) Editor’s Note : It turns out that Google Translate DOES have Tagalog. But it’s not called Tagalog any more, it’s called Filipino. So the statement “they do not have Tagalog” is technically true, but actually false.

Sorry if that blows your mind.

On a personal level, I am doing okay. The drama shitstorm has most definitely taken its toll on me emotionally, and it hasn’t exactly been fun, but it got my emotions flowing and gave me something to get energetic about, and that is all for the good in terms of my long term mood.

So in a perverse way, part of me is happy all this came about. It’s got my juices flowing and provided highly necessary catharsis that I don’t seem to be able to generate myself on anything like a regular basis. Now that I have opened up my life to the world a little bit, what do you know, it’s come rushing in like a herd of elephants.

And I could not be happier about it.

Urge to flee : minimal. I would be lying if I said there was none. I am not that healthy yet. But I am not going to listen to it. In fact, I will pointedly ignore it. I’ve listened to that Jagoff inside me for way too long, the one that is willing to sacrifice everything in the future, including dignity and self-respect, for escape now.

Fuck you, Jagoff. I’m filing for divorce. And I’m keeping the kids.

Plus, I now have a powerful ally in the fight against escapism : spite. It would make certain people all too happy were I to give in to the urge to back out and flee from certain projects, and like hell am I going to give them the satisfaction.

Never underestimate spite. It can keep you going when nothing else will.

There is one thing bothering me about my recent need to balance my enlightened self-interest and my righteous fury : I feel like it has made me somehow more dangerous. At the very least, I feel like I have shifted into a dangerous mode.

I will try to explain as best as I can, given current information blackouts.

Where to start. Well, it has been my theory for a long time that true deviousness comes from three ingredients : intelligence, rage, and a reason not to act on said rage directly.

That reason is often cowardice. The person is not brave (or stupid) enough to face the object of their rage head-on, so their rage gets directed into their intelligence to fuel their plotting and scheming and so on.

Relatedly but far from identically, the reason might simply be that the person is a thinker and planner, rather then a realtime actor and reactor. Indirect action gives them time to use their planning abilities to level the playing field.

That’s how it is for me. I have plenty of bravery when my dander is up. Arguably, I have too much. I’ll say anything to anyone and not give a fuck about the consequences.

Not hard to see how that could get me in trouble.

But I am a deep thinker, a planner, a hyper-focuser. This is a great and mighty power, but it means that I am not so great at dealing things in realtime, when there isn’t enough time to think.

I’m not helpless, but the sudden and unexpected throws me for a loop until I get my bearings. Give me time to catch up to what is going on, and I can kick ass. But without it, well, things get random and stupid pretty damn fast.

So when I say I feel like recent events are pushing me in a dangerous direction, it means that my anger under restraint is getting redirected into deviousness, not just as a weapon but as an emotional state.

And when that happens, I am capable of damn near anything, or so it feels. When the anger goes from hot to cold with me, it doesn’t die, it turns into long, thin, but oh so sharp icicles of solidified rage, and the side of me wielding them feels, for lack of a better term, evil.

Maybe that’s just because our culture is full of the anti-intellectualism of fantasy, where the good guy is always of the realtime action variety, and the villain is always the scheming and devious one.

So it’s not like I have a lot of heroic planners to act as role models for me.

But it’s hard to imagine that the urge to cold-bloodedly plot and destroy someone, however non-literally, can been seen as entirely good. Even if the cause is just and the person really deserves it, it will still leave us with a cold and uneasy feeling, no matter how hard we cheer at the results.

Even beyond that, there is a side of me that is just plain crazy. The part of me that identifies with the Joker, and the Kingpin. Part of me that is willing, even eager, to tap in the dark side of my intellect and use all my insight, empathy, and intellect to not just harm but destroy. To become an evil they can’t even comprehend, let along counteract.

I call it an evil because it’s malign, and because it would scare the hell out of all who witness it, including myself. The most hated and despicable villain is always the one who is truly devious and operates on an entirely different level than the hero. The one who is so intelligent that he knows exactly what you are going to do in any situation and can manipulate you like a puppet on a string.

I could be that guy. Not on a supervillain level, obviously, but still. It’s one of my facets, one of my potentials.

And I don’t wanna be that guy. The consequences of me deciding I don’t give a fuck about anyone anymore could be harsh.

And I like being sweet little ol’ me.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.