Tag:female solo traveler

Let me tell you something about fantasies. They are very profitable — especially when the fantasy is brown, female, smiling, and foreign. For decades, the global imagination has done a number on Thai women. Somewhere between backpacker bars, late-night bachelor jokes, and that poisonous little phrase “happy ending,” an entire healing tradition got dragged into the gutter. Thai massage — nuad thai, an art recognized by UNESCO — became shorthand for male entitlement. And who pays the price? Not the joke-makers. The women. When a Thai therapist in rural Ireland...

Let me tell you something, darling: when people ask, “Is Asia safe for solo women?” what they’re really asking is, “Will I be allowed to exist in public without being bothered?” And that’s a very different question from crime statistics. I’ve travelled this continent long enough to know that safety is layered. In East Asia — think Japan, Korea, Taiwan — the system protects you. Trains run on time. Streets are lit. Rules are followed. You can walk home at midnight and your biggest problem might be choosing between ramen...

Ah, finally. The world has discovered what Asian families have known for centuries: if you want something done properly, call an auntie. So Singapore has decided to export us. Not durians. Not hawker centres. Not fintech. Aunties. And honestly? About time. For years, I’ve watched bright, overeducated, emotionally constipated adults outsource their love lives to algorithms designed by 26-year-old men who think “compatibility” means you both like tacos. Swipe left. Swipe right. Swipe until your thumb develops carpal tunnel and your heart develops cynicism. Romance reduced to metadata. And now?...

Oh darling, of course we’ve reached the point where your ex writes your dating reference letter. In a country where neitui — internal job referrals — can fast-track your career, why shouldn’t it also fast-track your love life? If HR can vet your résumé, surely your former girlfriend can vet your emotional stability. Efficient. Transparent. Very modern. Very… corporate. But let Auntie ask: when did romance become a performance appraisal? I understand the impulse. Dating apps are a jungle. Married men posing as single. Single men posing as billionaires. Billionaires...

Every February, just around Valentine’s Day, the same little miracle happens across Asia: suddenly thousands of men discover that love apparently requires overnight industrial-grade performance. And into that panic march the “herbal kings,” the “VIP chocolates,” the mysterious honey sachets promising stamina of a mythological water buffalo. My darlings, if masculinity could be solved by a candy bar, patriarchy would have collapsed by now. Let me say this gently but clearly: erectile dysfunction is a medical issue, not a moral failure. Bodies age. Stress happens. Blood pressure rises. Diabetes is...