A little rain inside me, a little pain inside me. A little dose of mellowness to compromise the life, in a precise amount.

-Self-Quote-

Monday, November 30, 2009

Sampai Ketemu Lagi... :-)





kamu ingat ketika pertama kali kita berantem? ketika pertama kali kamu sebal setengah hidup padaku? Ketika kamu bilang, aku terlalu banyak curhat padamu? Dan aku minta maaf waktu itu. Itu yang kamu tahu. Tapi setelah itu, aku berjanji pada diriku sendiri untuk mengurangi curhatku. 

Lalu kita janjian ketemu. Dan ternyata sesuatu terjadi, dan aku ga bisa. Aku benar-benar minta maaf waktu itu. Karena aku merasa benar-benar bersalah. dan tidak sedetikpun aku menuntutmu untuk memahami posisiku. Karena ada begitu banyak 'seharusnya' yang sampai sekarangpun, masih kusesali. Dan terutama karena aku tak cukup punya keberanian untuk bercerita pada teman-temanku yang straight, bahwa aku seperti ini. Karena sampai kapanpun, aku tak akan bisa menggabungkan teman-temanku yang straight dan yang PLU.. 

Kemudian kamu menghilang. Entah untuk berapa lama, aku tak tahu. Tapi setelah itu, semuanya berjalan seperti biasa. Aku merasa kita semakin akrab. Aku merasa menemukan seorang A'a yang lama hilang. Yang barangkali memang selalu ada di sana. Kata orang, di blogmu bahkan, memaafkan tidak sama dengan melupakan. Tetapi aku begitu percaya waktu itu, semua yang berlalu memang telah berlalu...

Tapi kemudian aku melakukannya lagi. Aku sakit, karena terlalu capai di Singapore. Andai kamu tahu apa yang terjadi di sana. Tapi aku meminta maaf, meskipun aku mengatakan di blogku kalau aku tak merasa bersalah. Aku minta maaf memang bukan karena merasa bersalah, tetapi lebih karena telah membuatmu merasakan apapun yang kamu rasakan... Entah itu galau, entah itu kesal, entah itu rasa sepi. Entahlah. Aku ingin bertanya, tetapi aku merasa keberadaanku malah membuat hidupmu ruwet. Membuatmu tambah tak bahagia.

Aku tak pernah menyalahkanmu. Sampai sekarangpun. Aku berusaha memaklumimu, dan menyimpan rasa kehilangan itu, lalu menggantinya dengan sebentuk rasa kecewa. Kamu ingat ketika pertama kali aku bilang kecewa padamu? Kamu malah mengusirku, dan mengatakan bagaimana dirimu tak pantas menjadi seorang A'a bagiku.

Ah, kamu tahu, sakit sekali rasanya mendengarmu mengucapkan kata-kata itu. dengan begitu mudahnya. Tapi sekali lagi, aku tak bisa menggugat. Tak bisa juga menuntut. Kamu adalah kamu, dan aku bukan siapa-siapa. Dan barangkali memang tak akan pernah menjadi siapa-siapa.  Sehingga dengan mudahnya Engkau bisa mengatakan sesuatu seperti 'buang saja ke laut..'

Dan barangkali inilah saatnya untuk belajar melepaskan. Seperti hujan yang tak tergenggam, seperti pelangi yang indah dalam sesaat-nya.


Terima kasih.
Maafkan aku.
Sampai ketemu lagi di suatu ketika.
Karena kamu tahu, aku masih akan di sini.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

The Right Dosage



Love is like a medicine. It has to come to a right dosage: not too less, not too much, but sufficient. A childish boy won't be too childish, a mature guy won't be too independent, a smart guy won't be too smart-alec, a difficult-to-approach guy won't be that difficult, and doing stupid things won't be stupid at all. Even a fat guy won't be too chubby, and a skinny guy won't be too thin. We all come to a point they label as 'compromising', and suddenly, we're happier than we thought we'd be.

Based on the presumption, it is stupid then, to get mad to somebody just because they think we're childish, we're too ngondek, we're too open, and we're too ugly. It is also stupid to judge people because they prefer body, because they prefer face, or because they prefer both. Everybody has their own preferences, so it's totally stupid to make it into a problem. If he's just not that into you, he's not that into you. Because when he's into you, everything would come to a right dosage, like what I mentioned earlier. And when he's not that into you, I think it's our part to let it go. It's not because we're too ugly, too ngondek, too open, too childish, like he'd say to you, but because we're simply not at the right dosage for him. We can't cure him, because we're not the medicine for him. So we let go, because he'd have thrown us, the wrong medicine, into his rubbish bin, earlier before. Have some dignity to walk out, shall we?

This guy I was talking about, the one who's offering friendship, he met his somebody a week or two ago. They had dinner. And the guy thought it was one of the best. And he really told me that the somebody was his type. Guess what?

Two days ago, I met this somebody. His name was Dan. Not Dan Humphrey, by the way, and we talked and talked. Based on his first impression, I must have met a lot of guys here in B-town. The same statement as the friendship-guy - and I was confused: Is this question merely implying me being too 'friendly' and therefore slut; or is this question merely checking if I am seeing somebody in particular, or is this question merely checking if there's a lot of competititon? Which? I really hope you could help me with this.

Anyway, I told him that I was this sweet-innocent boy, I rarely met someone here, more because there was nobody to meet. And it's true, FYI. So I asked him back the question. He mentioned some names - and it was then that I realised. I confirmed my suspicion, and I was right. Dan was the friendship-guy's type.

Let me give you his stats: 28, 186, 98. He's that fat. And you know what? Dan thought that the friendship-guy was not okay at all. Forgive me for being shallow here, but I was so relieved. It was that second that I realised how childish I have been. It was also that second that I knew: Love is like a medicine; right dosage, right prescription, and you get cured. Everyone is special to a certain someone.


By the end of the day, I knew I was going to be better. It's really a time to love myself more, to grow up, and be a man. And the sex? Me being practically sex-less? Well, here's a quote from Ling Woo (Lucy Liu), Ally McBeal, Season 3 Episode 4:


Look. We're talking about five seconds here, okay? That's how long the big O lasts -- five seconds, sometimes six.This is so typical of men. What we want is affection, commitment, companionship, somebody to spend our days and nights with, somebody to make us happy in life. And instead, you've stayed focused on five to six seconds of a few major muscle contractions! You're a pathetic species!


Now, you tell me.
Are we that pathetic? 












Sunday, November 22, 2009

Doing Trading





I am a nice person.
I don't treat jerks like a jerk. I am friendly towards old people. I am good with ladies. 
I am not fashionable in a 'too-much' manner. I am not behaving like a queen, nor even a drag. 
I am still discreet. I don't bite. 
I don't go clubbing. I don't stay up late. I don't cause a scene. I am shy. 
I don't demand nice things. I don't blab. I have my own income, which is more than enough.
Hell yeah, I am smart. I am creative. I swim. I watch movie, any kind of movie. I dont hold your hand in the cinema. 
I am romantic. I write some stuff. But it doesn't define me.

So, I am a nice person, and it ain't a bull-shit. 


Okay, I am still chilidsh. But I'm working on it. That's why I am not looking for Brondong. I am looking for a mature guy, whom I expect to understand. Or even better, to man up and to guide me instead of taking chance or hating me. 

I don't do an*l sex. I am uncut. But if it's mere sex you're looking, I'm not interested either. So, let's behave and get our own way. If you don't wanna be a friend, then I'm not wasting time on a shallow guy like you. 



I am not that athletic. And if you are, then let's hit the gym together. Don't worry, I'm not asking you to pay my membership fee. Don't worry, I'm not wearing a pink shirt saying that you are my boyfriend. I just need a trainer, and it feels better if it's you, not just any random PT.  


I am that tall. But not fat. I don't mind if you're not taller than me. Do you?



I am chinese. I look like one. I'm not planning on getting married, nor adopting any kids. A dog is okay.
And no, I am not a high quality jomblo. I am just an ordinary guy... 

.
.
.

And suddenly, it feels like a negotiation. It's like a trading. So, I gave up my 'TYPE' a long time ago. Wait, hoping my somebody to be a decent man and fair and honest is not a 'type', isn't it? Why can't people just let it be spontaneous? Or are we AJ destined to be so self-absorbing that everything has to be about us? Or is it just me, who has a low self-esteem that I even would tolerate jerks? Am I being too nice? Am I using too much feeling, thus I'm being a way too touchy-feely? Or is it just my self-defense mechanism?

Above all, is being AJ about image and sex only? Are people using sex to define their relationship? Is sex the only variable that determines it all? Sex and image? Do you see one of the neighbouring blogs? The question is, body or face. Not image or brain. Not attitude or face. I am not judging here. I am not expecting that people would behave. I admit, image is nice, but it is not that important.

So, this is my description. Not interested? Thank you for stopping by. Let's be friend, shall we?


Sunday, November 15, 2009

Friendship in Q world




Recently, there's a cute guy I found over the chat-room. We talked, and he, amazingly, was being so open, so no paranoid like aj these days. Long story short, he texted me often and asked to meet me. Standard SOP, and you know it already.

So, we met last Tuesday. I was late, and he already left the spot to go to karaoke with his aj friends. He was a bit in stress, so he needed to shout it out. I went to the karaoke lounge, and we met for the first time, officially. He gave a very good impression, you know. He texted me a few minutes after we parted, asking me about his first impression. He actually said that I was cute (!). And since then, we've been texting each other so regularly.

He texted me good morning and good night.
He asked me what I've been doing, regularly.
He asked me if I had my lunch or dinner already, and if I had, what was my menu.
He asked me to go with him to the cinema.


If you're me, what would you think? What does those text mean? Somehow, I thought that maybe this guy was interested, and he's not that bad, so I gave it a chance.
I learnt, by time, that he's not exactly the guy I've been looking for. I'm not practically single, so I thought, "Hey, lets play this game."

We met again last Saturday, and he chatted a lot, again. I learnt again, that the guy was actually like me. He's looking for a mature person in a relationship. He's resenting that people in the town are being so paranoid and not fair, and therefore, being jerk. He likes being alone at weekends, he dislikes the basa-basi chit-chat. And I was losing my passion more and more. So I began texting another guy - Guys, if you ever meet me, and see me texting every now and then, it only means one thing: I am bored.

Ultimately, he told me that he's more into friendship. For friendship doesnt need too much feeling inside. Friendship doesnt need too much emotion, and therefore he could avoid being heart-broken. It is still amazing, though, because apparently, this topic has been on my mind since I was back from Singapore.

Is there really a friendship in the aj world?
I have a few aj friends, who's just friend. But we're all not in the same town. And all of them are top guys - not that I asked them their roles, but I can really judge from their types of guys.

But bottom friends??
Perhaps I should change the question: Can a bot make friend to another bot? Or they would end up fighting, yelling, and slapping each other?
No offense here, but I do think that bot aj are very much sensitive. They're going to be mad for anything simple - which is one of my reasons avoiding having a relationship with a bot aj even though I'm sexless. Here, here, I'm not making a prejudice, but that's the fact I've been observing lately. Perhaps, to some people, a sensitive and spoiled (I was referring to 'merajuk', what's the English for that?) aj could be fun and adorable. But, sorry, not me.

I admit that I am not a perfect person. I make mistakes. I do things I'm not supposed to do. I say things I'm not supposed to say - or more like, I say things in a wrong manner and therefore, wrongfully understood. Okay, I admit my mistakes. I say sorry. I apologize. And I even let the offensed party to yell at me. But then there's like never a second chance. Or is it too much to give a second chance? Or am I simply just not worth it because I am a stranger into their lives, one person that gives no use to them?? Honestly, I dont know anymore. And really, I earnestly wish that there's a manual for Q relationship: boyfriends, partnership, Fuck-buddy, one-night-stand up to friendship.

So, I was silenced when he offered me a friendship.
So, in the end, I told him that I do believe in a Q friendship. Because I have it.
And at the moment, I remember someone I've hurt for I couldnt make the things like I've promised. So, to you, I had another appointment that weekend too, and I had to cancel it, and I didn't even tell him at the first place. You know what the other guy told me? He said, big deal, you couldn't make it, at least you'd have called me, but lets move forward. And I really wish you'd say that to me instead of giving me a silent treatment.... But anyway, your choice, and I'm really tired.

Maybe it's time again to hibernate. To stop exploring people in manjam or fridae, period. I don't know.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Questions




Is it love?
How can you tell?

Is it measured by things he'd do for you, no matter how stupid it is, or stuff he'd buy just to make you happy?
Is it in words he'd say, text messages he'd send, or some sweet-nothings he'd exchange with you?
Is it about the good-mornings, good-afternoons, or even good-nights?
Is it summarized by poems he'd write?
Is it measure by the sex he'd make to you, and the post-orgasm conversation he'd chat about?

Or is it just you?
How your heart is pumping much faster when he's around?
How your head is a mess when he hasn't replied your text?
How your night gets lonelier when he's not there to hug you?
How your mouth smiles 24-hour non-stop?
How your hand hugs stuff he'd buy, or how your heart'd tell you that you'd better keep those things he buys carefully because you dont wanna ruin nor consummate it?

Or is it mutual?
How you both can spend hours just being silent, staring at each other's eyes?
How you can hug each other, without any urge to have sex at that very moment, because you know it's now more about love rather than lust?
How you can complete each other's sentence, how you both learn what you guys like or dont like..?

..
.
.

Or is now the perfect time to tell me that this all is just a dream, a silly one, that won't even exist?
But what about me?
Is it useless if I am being a romantic fool for just one more day?
Is it stupid if I'm willing to risk it all, to fall in love, and to hurt later because there's simply no such thing as happily-ever-after for PLU?

.
.
.

I don't know.
... or is it more because I know the answer but no willing to see it? To face it and then to understand it..?
Because if we deserve to be happy, why Leslie Cheung committed suicide? Why Stephen Gately did what he did?



A friend once asked me, if I'd do the same thing if I were them.
I said, NO.

And that's all I have for now........




Tuesday, November 3, 2009

I sent him off with so much smiles... (part 2)






They said, you'll never learn to love without the pain of a broken-heart. A broken heart somehow would make a person grow wiser, more mature, which eventually leads him become a better lover.

Is that true?
I don't know. I really don't know. All I know, there's a part inside me that withered away the day he left. There's a big dark hole inside my soul, sucking away my passion, my spirit, and my everything.

That day was actually only a week or more before the Valentine's Day. He went home late, and I was waiting for him. Two hours before, I had changed my clothes to a casual one, for I knew he wouldn't make it home on time. And he would be very tired already, that I thought it's probably the best that we spent the rest of the night together, talking, dreaming, or hugging. But it wasn't the case. Honestly, I didn't even see that this day would have come.

So, gently, he touched my cheek, and said that he had something to say....
He always had something to say. And I always got excited to listening to what he'd say........
He told me then that the thing could wait after dinner. But I insisted on him saying it before. For the last time, he gave in, and he did it as I wished.

He began by saying how I was never happy with him. I always cried whenever I met him, up to a point where he told me that he's willing not to see me again instead of seeing me cry for him, for it ached him.
Up until now, I still wished I had told him that there're two kinds of tears: the happy tears, and the sad tears.. I wished I had told him that I cried not because I was sad, but more because I was regretting our position; how I could never be with him. I was resenting his being far away, his being busy fighting not only for himself, his family, but also for me. I cried because I was touched; how could I meet someone like him; so nice and gentle and loved me that much......

Then he told me, how he could never choose between his parents nor me. He's the only son, so it's his duty to carry on his family's name, and it's his duty to get married. I told him before I was okay. But then he always said that it was not fair for me; how he's not worthy for all the difficulties I had met, and how he didn't want me to spend too much time on a relationship with no future.....


I cried. Again, without knowing why.
Then I asked him the ultimate question... whether he's letting me go.. whether he's breaking up with me...

He closed his eyes. I could see his tears, wetting his cheek.
My world stopped. My heart stopped. It felt like everything'd been transformed into falling tears..

He didn't even say goodbye. He didn't even say sorry. He just told me to cry it out, so that I wouldn't have to cry for him anymore.

He didn't come home that night. He didn't come home that noon. He came by 5 PM, and drove me to a friend's place. I couldn't stay at his place anymore, could I? Because then he wouldnt come home..

So, I sent him off with so much smile. I wanted him to remember me smiling for him, for the last time, no matter how pale I looked.

And he's right. I didn't cry for him anymore after that. I didn't cry for anybody, anymore.
Yes, I cried over some stupid movies, but not for anyone. Not for anybody. His leaving took away almost everything I used to believe in. It damaged me to some level.

Yet, there's no regret. I now smile whenever I recalled anything about him. Anything about me. Anything about things I'd done for him out of stupidity. I smiled the last time he called, telling me about his boyfriend. I smiled the last time I heard his friend told me that he's married. And I smile, for at least, I saw love once in my life.