I haven’t blogged for a while. Or ever. I’ve been so lazy all I did was putting another blogger’s post (with source stated, of course) just for the sake of posting. This blog named Sapi Malas not for nothing after all. 2010 has been quite a ride. Up and down the merry-go-round vertical tower of terrror like that scene in Zombieland, minus the zombie.
Since 2008 when I had two beloved leaving me for Hereafter, I’d like to think my life mirrorred Scarlett O’Hara post-Civil War. Ok, I didn’t have to dig my garden to find a piece of dried carrot (or kill a scoundrel) but now I do get why Scarlett became such a manipulative bitch and fierce business woman. Both of us need a security. Money, family, social standing. I’ve spent three years now doing business. Playing adult, trying to be slightly manipulative. Experienced my first global economy crash. I didn’t pass with flying color but I managed to keep the company floating, family fed and bills paid. Gone were the days when Scarlett I wore light green dress, battling my eyelashes and think of nothing except Ashley boys.
Except now, more than ever, I seriously need a Rhett Butler. With moustache or without, I need a big, tall, dark, worldly, humorous and kind guy who will envelopes me with love and said things like “You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.” Aren’t we all? Despite the popular belief, made even more popular by Julia Roberts who got hit by a dashing Javier Bardem in the middle of nowhere in Ubud, Bali is not the perfect place to fall in love. I think it is the perfect place to be in love or have a mind blowing “From Here to Eternity” moments by the beach, but that’s it. For you who magically found love in Bali, you can stop reading now because this post is just a dark, twisted and cynical (albeit true) rambling of a depressive single near Valentine’s Day. For you who doesn’t and have no date for the upcoming Bloody Valentine, do continue reading.
Bali is being promoted as The Ultimate Honey Moon Destination. I went all the way to Chengdu, a nice city in Sichuan Province, China and told a teenage receptionist at a hostel that I’m from Bali. Her immediate gush is: Oh, I want to go there for honeymoon! (to which I just cringed). Grown up in Bali, I’ve seen love in all shapes and reasons. Newlyweds holding hands even when they shopped or eat, holiday flings that started in a foam party fuelled by 10k Bintang beers, Opa and Oma walking with their strollers and Birkenstocks by the beach, desperately lonely older gay man riding a scooter with a dark handsome youth, tanned and young and lovely girls meets a thick belly and even thicker wallet guys one night at a bar. Occassionally, if I’m lucky I witness a devastating love like the one I saw a few weeks ago at the airport when two lovers didn’t want to let go. Do I get bitter by witnessing all those “ loves”? Perhaps.
To be honest, Bali is all about sperm released. Some found their pre-destined place and nine months later, a baby made in Bali will be born. Some are just being spent and dumped. Ask the next sweet couple you met on the street where did they fall in love. Eight out of ten it won’t be Bali.
I’ve kissed some frogs. None of them turns out to be a Prince. I’ve given up those Disney crafted illusions and put it in a box named ‘childhood’. The frogs that I’ve been kissed are mostly commitment phobic or only interested on what I wear behind my fabulous flowery dress instead of inside me or simply a nice guy at a wrong time and wrong place. Why is it so difficult this whole dating things? Seriously. I’m easy. Just romance me, make me laugh and I’m yours.
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---------gulping down chai tea---------
Sorry. I sounded desperate in that last sentence, aren’t I? Well, I do. I need my freakin’ Rhett Right Now. I saw a French movie few years back. Russian Dolls was the name. In the last part, the narrator said something that got me thinking. It went something like this: “ Do you know Russian dolls? At first there’s only one big doll then you opened the lid and inside you’ll find another doll, then another doll then another doll. Just right at the moment you got tired of it, you’ll find the one and last small doll that has no lids. That’s it. That’s the one for you”.
Which means that tonight I’ll dress up and go out. I’ll order some drinks and have a swell good time.
Afterall, tomorrow is another day.
