In 2 years, I'd been willfully victimized myself by sleeping with 16 different men from different races. Should I claim myself as a whore? NO! Let's say, I am an life artist - since I was neither doing it for money nor using it as a lame excuse to justify my unprecedented decision.
What's my motive then? I bet, most readers here can guess. Yes, I was conducting personal observations, trying to figure out the life formulations to perfect my writing. I was a journalist from a reputable national newspaper in Indonesia and my wish was to get my writing published by the time I finished my MA degree in OZ.
Being involved with those 16 men was not simple but far from easy - as targeting different blokes with different approaches caused me agitating heartaches. Most of the time, I was trapped in "goodbye scenes", most of the time I should pretend to love someone, and even harder was when I should pretend NOT to love them. Vulnerability is not allowed here, so I tried hard to train my own feelings not to being melancholic - true - it did take time.
Who were my targets? I preferred "pack and leave" expats who had short-term contracts or work permits. The reason was because I believed in bad karma results if we play with someone's feelings. Here, most of the "pack and leave" expats are not looking for serious long-term relationships - don't you think? And who else could be the target? Ohja, tourists could be another target too - since they only look for a summer romance or "one-night stand".
Sometime in late February, I met a late guy in his 20s named K. Patrick F. (K is his German name, F is his Swedish name). By the way, he's an Australian working at a German company in Indonesia - pretty complicated, huh? Let's use Patrick then, to keep it confidential.
We met by accident and I thought I could practice my Deutsch sprechen while getting to know him, but in fact he didn't know any German words - too bad!
Seemed that we clicked it off, when after a one-hour conversation, he ended up invitating me to drink a bottle of wine at his istana (palace). "Perfect!" I whispered to myself.
It was as you can guess, readers! The wine lit up the romance and we ended up the night by sleeping together. The story didn't stop there... we continued seeing each other the next day and the following days. While I keep shouting at myself "restrain, restrain!" since I was knitting a relationship instead of just observing for my writing.
One month flew by and things gradually changed. He started arguing with me - okay, maybe the reason is because we both studied law. But, problems started arising, like: taking back the coins which I already given to the street boys, saying "Happy Birthday" coldly from 2 meters away while I had expected a little hug or kiss on the cheek, letting me go home by taxi at 2 a.m. instead of offering to let me stay at his place, asking me to sit next to his male friend rather than next to him, reading his work report at my brother's wedding party, ignoring me when I was reading him a poem.
I was quite speechless, but for sure I was really in love. Everything about him was like the old adage "tahi kucing rasa coklat" (cat's shit tastes like chocolate), which means everything about him whether bad or good, looked great from my perspective. I never figured out why I loved him. But a song lyric from the New Radicals helped answer my question. "Someday we'll know why Samson loved Delilah. One day I'll go dancing on the moon ."
The situation was getting worse. Once we broke up, but patched the relationship up again. The situation was also getting pathetic - I became a very demanding person.
"Are you serious in this relationship? Answer my question, yes or no!" I cried.
Though I knew my statement scared him, he did come back to me - but he didn't want to sleep with me anymore. Once, we had dinner with another couple. The couple looked hot and they went home first, because the girl desperately wanted to be alone with the man.
"We will spend the night together, right?" I asked him. Then he answered with a big, "NO!"
I felt offended and we broke up again. I still remember that night as I felt like I was losing my grip in the dark and the world moved so slowly. My life afterward has some of the most horrible moments ever - I needed time to recognize myself after waking up, I was traumatized by going out into the city and I never felt happy. Until at last, I decided to see a psychiatrist.
Still, taking the Ludiomil pills prescribed by the psychiatrist didn't really help much, so I tried hard to cure myself by reminding myself "life should move on" all the time.
After some months, he popped up into my life and asked me out for dinner. I thought this was a green light for us to be together again. But I was wrong, he still stood on his decision that he just wanted be friends. Then, I asked him politely not to see me anymore because to carry on with my life, I really needed to be rid of him.
Five months later, he came to me again. But again, it was like the previous encounter. And again, I asked him not to contact me. That time, he insisted that I write down his address in OZ just in case I changed my mind. But NO, I knew this would only ruin my life.
After popping back in my life several times with his "going nowhere expectations", I told him in a very low tone, "Don't you know, if you contact me just to say 'Hi' it makes me suffer in agony?" He stood up and evicted me from his house. I raised my head and said, "You're sick, insane, and an idiot. I think you're the one who should see a doctor or psychiatrist!"
When I got home, I got a SMS from him "Sorry, I won't contact you anymore. So please, don't contact me either!" Then, I replied "Let's just keep our feelings of hatred, so that there's no reason for us to contact each other. And call me, after you come back from the psychiatrist".
I was feeling sad, but I hoped by hurting his ego it would ensure he didn't contact me anymore. Then, I wouldn't have to grieve or have to start my life from zero every 3 months. I hoped that was the real adieux, though I loved him very much.
Now the life artists were singing, "Someday we'll know if love can move a mountain. Someday we'll know why the sky is blue. Someday, we'll know, why I wasn't the one for you." In the end, someday we'll know if my writing becomes the bestseller - I'll keep my fingers crossed.