Going it alone in Bangkok
I loved to travel and experience new places. I’d grown up as a military brat, living in England, Cuba, and Germany. How had I not found a partner who shared my same wanderlust?
When I decided to move to Asia in the Fall of 2017 I planned to go with my boyfriend, Ross. We’d been dating for nearly seven years.
I was in the last year of my Masters Programme and struggling over the unexpected loss of my father at the beginning of the school year. The thought of moving halfway around the world with Ross gave me the incentive and motivation I needed to overcome my grief, finish my thesis, and complete the degree.
The night before my graduation (and just five months before we were to fly to Thailand), Ross dumped me. “I never planned to move to Asia,” he said. “I’ve been lying the whole time.” His decision was as swift and unexpected as my father collapsing from a blood clot.
The news devastated me. I spent the summer debating whether to go to Thailand as planned or remain in the States and prove to Ross that I didn’t want to move abroad either. When Hurricane Irma blew through the southeastern US, taking my car and my furniture with her, I decided it was a sign. In late October I boarded a flight bound for Asia.
At first I was lonely. This is expected when you move to a new city, especially one in a country where you don’t (yet) speak the language. Added to that was the constant reminder that I wasn’t supposed to come to Bangkok solo. Pairs of backpackers stood next to me on the BTS. Travellers held hands as they darted across the street. Couples who’d decided to travel the world together listed their itinerary to me.
I hated them all. I loved to travel you and experience new places. I’d grown up as a military brat, living in England, Cuba, and Germany. How had I not found a partner who shared my same wanderlust?
I worked to build a social life immediately. I joined MeetUp groups and Bumble’d and Tinder’d like it was a career. I met other expats working in Thailand, but that, too, made me feel alone because it seemed like everyone had come to Bangkok with a significant other. They talked about going to night markets together and weekend trips to Ko Samui. I could barely muster the courage to order pad krapao moo from a street vendor. Everything felt easier with a buddy. I wasn’t used to travelling totally solo, and the experience was frustrating and anxiety inducing.
Embarrassing yourself by saying khob khun krup instead of khob khun kaa is much more laughable when you’re with a friend rather than standing there, turning bright red by yourself. As I sat in my studio apartment off Udom Suk each night, eating instant 7/11 noodles, and scrolling through friends’ engagement announcements on Facebook, I couldn’t help but beat myself up:
Why the hell did I come alone? Although the MeetUp and InterNations groups weren’t always helpful, I still pushed myself to keep attending. I looked for activities instead of simple meet-and-greets and I forced myself to do touristy things on my own: Wat Pho, Wat Traimit, Chatuchak Market, etc. Each time I did something solo that I normally wouldn’t have, I met really cool, interesting people. I started to make connections and felt confident navigating the city.
There were still moments of “Oh God I look like such a tourist why do I have to be by myself?” But they were easier to shrug off and move on. By the time the New Year rolled around, I’d landed a job, moved into a new apartment, and had at least four or five friends I could call up to hangout.
It was while eating dinner with one of these friends that I realised: I’m better off in Asia without Ross. Although Ross had (originally) agreed to move to Asia with me, he wasn’t a terribly adventurous person. He was a good ol’ Southern boy, who was perfectly fine living in the same town where he’d grown up. In the seven years that we’d dated, any travelling we did was orchestrated by me. The friends Ross made he’d also met through me.
Ross wasn’t antisocial; he was simply content to stay at home reading a book night after night. I, on the other hand, wanted to experience as much as possible. My father’s passing had especially amped up my desire to live life to the fullest. Why couldn’t Ross read his books from a boat in Ha Long Bay or in a glass igloo in Norway?
As my friend and I drank wine and ate shrimp, I thought about all the interesting people I’d met during my short time in Bangkok: a fellow Third Culture Kid from Bhutan, a doctor from Sri Lanka, an analyst from India, a teacher from England, and an academic from Scandinavia, just to name a few.
I wouldn’t have met any of them had I moved to Thailand with Ross. Some of those friends I’d met through Bumble/Tinder so I wouldn’t have met them for obvious reasons, but the others I’d met through MeetUp groups.
Ross wouldn’t have gone to those groups and neither would I because I would have felt bad leaving him on his own (after living in Bangkok for half a year I would have been OK abandoning him for an evening or two, but how much of Bangkok would I have missed out on by then?).
With Ross, I would have spent my days going to work and coming home. I wouldn’t live in the apartment that I live in now because Ross would have found the space too small and the area too crowded.
I wouldn’t go to weekend markets or plan trips to Laos because Ross doesn’t like crowds and it takes a while to convince him to travel somewhere. I wouldn’t be pushing myself to be more independent because I would have had a partner to run to and say: No, JK. Let’s just go home and order in instead. In short: I wouldn’t be living in Bangkok. I would just be in Bangkok.
I’m grateful to be on my own in Asia. Being on my own means I can do what I want, go where I want, and meet who I want. Sure, there are times when I’m by myself and feel that suffocating loneliness that comes after a rough breakup, but then I go outside and walk down a new street or try a new food stall.
I still have the slightest tinge of wishing I’d moved to Thailand with a partner, but, on the whole, I’m happy to be going this alone. With a partner I would have been content in Asia. Solo, I’ll experience everything Asia has to offer.
