Bali Girl Meets Tourist Boy
A Classic Tale of Island Romance
“Okay sai your turn, who do you want to explore your compatibility with?” Anita was flipping through her Cards of Destiny book.
“Can I do Adriel?” I looked down and smiled shyly, prepared for the shit they were about to give me.
“Adriel eez leeaaving Chrriiss, don’t give your energy to him!” Clara scolded me through a knowing smile.
“I knowww, I know…it’s just that…I felt so comfortable with him within minutes of meeting him, and…”
“Ahh ya I know, it’s very rare to feel that with somebody.”
“SO rare! So so rare, and that’s why I feel sad. Whatever. It’s whatever. Better to have liked and lost and all that shit.”
“Ya Chrris at least you got to experience it.”
It was the typical Bali love story. Local girl meets tourist boy, they have an amazing connection, tourist boy leaves and forgets all about Bali girl as he continues his life. Bali girl meets the next tourist boy, except he doesn’t make her feel the way he did.
So…if we know how the story ends, why do we keep doing this to ourselves? Why do we allow ourselves to get our hopes up? We’re not optimistic romantics, we know better than to expect an HEA (happily ever after).
We’ve lived on this island long enough to know the tourists come and go, and only the f*ck bois stay. The peter pans who never grow up and treat women like low hanging commodities are the ones who figure out a way to live and work in Bali. In terms of proximity, these are the ones we should expect to develop an actual relationship with. But on an island that supplies younger and hotter women by the boatload year after year, men who live here don’t commit to just one woman — why would they!? They’ve got an unlimited supply of pretty girls to cycle through, why would they settle for one?
But, that’s not the question on trial today. The question is — if we know these thrilling one night stands with travelers don’t lead to anything, how can we navigate a night of pleasure in a way that won’t set us up for emotional disappointment, especially if there’s a genuine connection?
It all started when…
We locked eyes just as he sat down and I had turned around to dance with Astrid. I raised an eyebrow and invited him to dance with me with a silent smirk and open arms. In a flash, he jumped back up and nodded, (I swore I could have heard him say ‘yup’), then he synced into a rhythmic side to side step with me.
His knee locked between my legs and I clasped my hand around his neck for support as we swayed into a smooth circle towards the center of the dance floor. I stepped back to look at him, flashed him a grin and he responded by taking my hand and twirling me around. One turn, two turns, then I rested his hand behind his own neck as I settled my back against his chest, his other hand finding my hip bone. Side step back, side step back. The dancing spirits had taken over our bodies, two strangers in the last hour of night, filling me with euphoria, a rush of adrenaline you only feel when you finally find someone who loves to dance as much as you do. The fact that he was tall, caramel, and had lips as soft as a pillow…was like a free shot of tequila to an already perfect high.
I turned around to face him and asked, “What took you so long to dance with me!?”
A deep British accent emerged, confused but excruciatingly charming. “Whut’d you mean?”
“You haven’t danced at all tonight, I’m very disappointed in you.”
“Disappointed? Have you been eyeing me this whole time?”
“No! But if you have moves like this, you should have been dancing all night!”
“Well I’m dancing with you now innit?”
I smiled at him with my eyes and twirled myself back up against him, our hips continuing to circulate in sync to the DJ’s afro beats. As the grinding became more intense, I broke away again, self-conscious that we were the only ones in the club this physically meshed upon each other’s bodies.
When I turned around to look at him shyly, he stood still and cupped his chin thoughtfully, as if to behave. His dark eyes were twinkling devilishly. But then he jumped forward into a dancehall sidestep and I instantly mirrored his motions, as if a remote control was directing us both into a pre-rehearsed choreography. I laughed deliriously as we wined down, knees and elbows bending in and out on the beat — a direct reflection of each other, like we were initiating some kind of urban mating dance.
It wasn’t long before he hooked his arm around my waist and glided me to a shadowy corner of the club. He leaned back against the wall and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He was tall, so tall my neck was completely tilted back. I knew the girls were watching, but I could only focus on his face, his jaws, his smooth brown skin. He eyed me, and I eyed him back, a flirtatious smirk playing across my lips. He leaned down and kissed me. I’d never felt lips as soft as his. Another kiss, another one, then tongue, and I pulled back and laughed.
“You’re so fun.” I don’t know, I just needed to say something to come back to reality. Pinch myself.
“You’re cute. I like your energy.”
“I like yours too.”
I couldn’t stop dancing. I didn’t want this part of the night to end. I turned myself around to grind on him, but, you know, to the beat of the music. He placed his hands on my waist and pulled me even closer! That self conscious feeling crept up again. I stood up and yelled over the music,
“Why am I always the one bending over??”
“Oh, you want me to grind on you?”
“Yeah! Change it up, balance the scales.”
He obeyed and bent his knees until his butt was not only bouncing off my crotch, it was physically bumping me backwards. I laughed and took a step back with each beat, until my ankle hit a ledge and I flew backwards with a shriek. I landed on my ass, on a wet stained floor as Adriel whipped around in horror.
“You okay, love?” Adriel pulled me up with one hand, making me feel weightless.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m all wet though.” I frowned disgustedly, touching the now damp back of my jean shorts.
“This is why I don’t bend over,” he chuckled. He led me back to the wall for another make out session, one I wished would last forever.
The lights came on. The club was closing soon. The girls were going to ask me what I was going to do, and I needed to make a decision fast. I was on such a high, I already knew.
“Chris we’re leaving! Are you coming?” Anroo and Lola had come to check on me, Astrid and Lyris had stayed back to give me time. I looked at the boy.
“Um…no, you guys go ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hold on, give me a sec.” I looked at the boy again. My hands hadn’t left his body.
“What do you want to do?” He asked me. Ugh. The way he enunciated the ‘Yu’. So cute.
“I want to spend more time with you.” It was more of a request. “What do youuu want?” I asked playfully.
He put his hands on the sides of my shoulders and paused to make sure I was listening, then looked at me sternly and said, “I want you to feel safe.”
My heart melted. That was the moment I knew I was going to marry this man. I cupped his face with my hands and “awwed”.
“I’m serious,” he said, “Whatever you want to do. As long as you feel comfortable.”
“Did you bring your bike here?”
“No I took a GoJek.”
“Hmm…”
“I can drive a bike though.”
My eyes lit up. “Oh okay. Perfect! You can drive my bike!”
He nodded and kissed me.
“So it’s settled, I’ll come home with you. But, only for cuddling!”
“Only for kissing and cuddling.” He nudged my chin up and kissed me deliberately, slowly.
We convinced Lyris and Astrid that he wouldn’t murder me, and he saved Astrid’s number and promised her that he would text her when we arrived at his place because my phone was almost dead. One last ‘Are you sure, Chris?’ and I was on my way with my London bloke.
“Are you sure you can drive my bike?”
“Yea, but I need you to direct me.” He handed me his phone. “You’ll direct me, yea?”
“Yes, I will narrate our journey home out loud.”
“Ok. You wear the helmet.”
“I…okay, I’ll wear the helmet.”
As soon as I climbed on the back, we were off…to a rough wobble down the road. His turns were shaky, and he kept braking then accelerating at all the wrong times on a near empty street.
“I thought you knew how to drive!?”
“Yea I learned a couple days ago in Uluwatu.”
“A COUPLE DAYS AGO? You sounded so confident!”
“Do I turn here? You’re supposed to direct me!”
“Oh wait — Yes, okay, we’re gonna turn left…” We passed the left turn down to the Canggu Shortcut. “…There. We were supposed to turn left there,” I waved to the road with my hand.
“That’s NOT how you direct! You’re supposed to tell me BEFORE the turn.”
I giggled apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but the app didn’t tell me and I wasn’t sure!”
His driving was pretty bad, but not enough to scare me. He was going slowly and carefully enough to where if we did hit someone it would be very anticlimactic. I tightened my arms around his waist and sniffed his neck. He smelled like cocoa butter and my future baby daddy. I grinned to myself, but even if the side mirrors were angled enough for him to see me, he was too concentrated on driving. I ran my hand down his shoulders, his arms, smooth and beefy like a football quarterback. I assume. We only missed one more turn and only almost hit one motorbike before arriving to his villa in Batu Belig.
The pivotal moment. I was straddling him, excited for what was to come — Me, preferably.
“Do you have a condom,” I asked breathlessly.
“No…”
I froze, my expression one of utter perplexion. “What? What do you mean you don’t have a condom?”
“I don’t have a condom.” I couldn’t tell if he looked amused or embarrassed.
“But how are we going to have sex??” I said it like it was the most confounding issue I’d ever stumbled upon in my entire life.
“I honestly thought you just wanted to cuddle, I’m sorry.” He stroked my hair gently.
I couldn’t hide my crestfallen pout. I furrowed my brows and looked out the window. “Okay, okay…let me think. We could order one on Gojek??” I looked at him hopefully.
“Or we could just cuddle?” He offered. That was definitely a look of amusement. I frowned.
“Oh, what about your friends? Ask them if they have one!”
“Babe, they’re sleeping, I’m not going to disturb them.”
“But-but, I want to have sex!” I searched his face with panic.
He lifted me off of him and pulled me into his chest until there was no space between us. Then he reached around and squeezed me even closer and kissed my cheek, my nose, my forehead. God, his body was so big, so meaty, so…delicious.
“Then you should have brought a condom,” he murmured. I gasped. But I didn’t have a good response. Was he — falling asleep? I wanted to cry with disappointment. But his embrace was so warm and cozy, I couldn’t even be too upset.
“Adriel.”
“Mmm.”
“Will you cuddle me, really hold me, all night?”
“Yes babe. I’m an excellent cuddler.” He squeezed me.
“Okay, because if you’re not — I won’t be able to sleep, and I might have to leave at 4am because I’ll be too restless.”
“I’ll hold you.” He was drifting off, his body sinking into deep sleep, but he kept his hold on me firm.
“Wait…before you fall asleep, tell me something about yourself.”
“What’dyou wanna know?”
“Umm…what’s your star sign?”
“Pisces. What else do you want to know?”
I thought about it. What did I really want to know? What information mattered?
“…Will I see you again?”
He mumbled something about going to Gili islands, but my eyelids were heavy, and I tuned out before descending into tranquil darkness. I never did hear the answer.
“You’re still here,” he mused.
“Hmm?” His arms were still wrapped around me. Daylight seeped gently through the white curtains. I had no idea what time it was, but this feeling…I wanted to suspend myself in this feeling forever. Safe, sleepy, happy, warm…in his arms.
“You didn’t run off at 4am,” he said.
“Mmm I know, I’m so impressed with your cuddling skills.” I smiled at him sleepily. I rotated myself so he could spoon me. “I officially award you best cuddler of 2022.”
“Wait, out of how many?” A hint of protest peaked in his voice. I laughed, caught off guard with his question.
“What? Not that many-” I held up my left hand as if to count my fingers.
He pulled my hand back down to stop me from counting.
“Never mind, never mind! It’s not my business, and I don’t need to know.” He scooted closer to me as I giggled.
“No really-”
“Na-na-na, stop.”
I looked over my shoulder to admire him. “You really are such a good cuddler. I can’t believe I slept so soundly. I feel really good with you and…” I caressed his face and gazed at him.
“What?” He asked gently.
“I like you.”
He said nice things, things like liking my energy, and that I was sexy, but also cute, and adorable, and that I appeared to be a deep thinker by the way I spoke about metaphysical causes of hearing loss.
He asked a lot of questions, and I answered them with detailed back stories. I learned that he spoke fluent Japanese, and had lived there for three years; he learned that I was in the Navy. I explained what the word ‘Gemes’ meant after biting his shoulder uncontrollably a couple times, and how Philipinos had a word for it too, and that word is ‘Gigil’. I know that because my best friend in California is Filipina and I picked up some Tagalog phrases from her. ‘California,’ he said, ‘I’m actually going to San Francisco next month.’
I loved that he didn’t ask me what I did for work, and I didn’t ask him either, though I did try to guess. I unsuccessfully assumed “Tech”, which he allowed me to believe, and only after stalking his Instagram did I realize he was more of a celebrity music producer/radio host than anything related to the ’Tech Bro’ archetype.
We spent another hour entangled in a flurry of kisses and warm skin underneath soft white sheets, until I remembered I had never received the most important piece of information.
“So…is this it?”
“We’re going to Gili Islands tomorrow, and when we get back my flight is the same day.”
“Oh…so this is it.” I was sitting up, my body already distancing myself from him without instruction. The body always knows before our hearts do. He was laying down with one arm behind his head, eyeing my reaction.
I processed the information. I shouldn’t have stayed last night. I shouldn’t have gotten to know him. I shouldn’t have cuddled. I wouldn’t even see him one more time. This was all so pointless.
I mean, it wasn’t. I lived for this…these moments of connection that could stand alone in ephemeral tenderness, with no requirement of any further plot development. But…
“Come here. One last cuddle. 10 more minutes.” He reached out to me.
I acquiesced. A little more quiet now. A little more sad. Not as goofy, not as spicy, not as careless.
I ran the data through my brain. Now, we would analyze eachother’s Instagram. We’d make preconceived perceptions based on what we posted, what we wrote, what we wanted our internet fans to think about us. We would maybe message each other for a while, but the slow fade would begin. He would continue his holiday, go on adventures and bring home stories to his friends.
I would tell my girlfriends about him, then continue my routine, my work, my magic in the mundane. He would become a fond memory, and I would be…I don’t know. Not much, really. A cute Indonesian girl with a nice smile and a big butt and a very thick American accent. Tucked between a roller deck of countless other Asian girls he’d encounter on his travels.
I’d obsess about how perfect he was, how much he made me laugh and how damn sexy his every physical attribute was to me. And then, I would initiate Infatuation Dissipation.
Infatuation Dissipation: A deliberate loss of energy to intoxicating levels of intense but short-lived passion.
Every local Bali girl should thoroughly understand and apply the process of Operation Infatuation Dissipation. It’s a tool for our emotional armour that must be utilized within days of meeting the seemingly ‘perfect guy’. It’s crucial to our survival on this island!
Here is the guide:
Step 1. Get it out of your system. Whatsapp your besties, tell all your girlfriends, recount every cute and funny moment, and most importantly, be honest when they ask for penis measurements.
Step 2. Stay busy! Fill your days with social brunches, physical activity, sunset walks, errands, creative projects, whatever it takes to occupy your mind with anything other than HIM.
Step 3. Do. Not. Respond. Right. Away. Don’t open his DMs as soon as you see them, and if you don’t have that kind of self control, leave him on read for 24 hours. This is more for you than it is any kind of mind game, I promise. You’ll be proud of yourself for having some discipline.
Step 4. Get under someone else. Set up a date, flirt with an old fling. The slow fade should have begun by now, and your ego needs a bit of a boost. Whatever it takes.
Step 5. Accept reality. It’s been a week, babe. Life goes on. You’ve got your friends, your family, your career. Your life is beautiful and dripping with sweetness. Don’t forget that. You’re alive! Feels good to be alive doesn’t it? Yes.
You made it. You came off the exhilarating high, and you’ve moved on.
“So Chrriiss, how is Adriel?”
Clara, Lyris and I were sitting in Clara’s house in Berawa. The whole first week of January had been possessed with some chaotic typhoon wind, but today it was providing a relaxing breeze. Lo-fi beats played on the speaker, and the thin white curtains billowed with each gust of air. Laptops were out, intentions were set. Holiday mode dying a slow but resistant death as new parties sprouted on the whatsapp group chats.
“Adriel? You mean my gorgeous future husband I’ll never see again?” Clara smiled at me tenderly as I faked a longing gaze up to the ceiling. “Adriel is gone Clara…it’s back to reality. I have to come back to earth now.”
“So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Just like this story, our whirlwind romance ended before it had really started. Adriel and I got picked up by the typhoon wind together then plopped back down in completely different places in our lives. I wish I could elaborate and give these two characters a second season — a second episode, even!
What’s next, then? Life in all its mundane magic, it’s easy morning walks, it’s unpredictable unfolding of the small and boring to the explosive and traumatic — that is what is next.
Tidak tersambung, hanya bergantung.
