Saturday, June 1, 2013

Chapter 3

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With such a cavalier attitude towards romance, it is not surprising that some people have expressed disagreement with my lifestyle. Some friends have tried to warn me that my gallavanting around would not give me happiness, whilst others have tried to counsel me, to tell me stop my fucking around and cavorting with a new girl every few days and settle down with a nice one.
I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Not today. Not now, when I’m having the time of my life. I have no time for a ‘steady relationship’ because they don’t exist. I have no time for ‘love’ because it is nothing but a delusion. ‘Love’ is something losers believe in because it gives them hope. ‘Love’ is for the weak because it gives them aspiration that yes, someone will come along one day that’ll give them happiness. ‘Love’ is something to believe in for the weak to give them comfort, because they cannot get the people they want, or they are stuck with someone and they believe in ‘love’ as a justification for being faithful. ‘Love’ is something these people tell themselves because they are not out there, living the high life, like I am.
I know this because I was one of these people, these weaklings. There was a time when I believed in ‘love’ and finding a ‘relationship’.

 ***

It had come by several names.
In high school, I had been in love with this girl named Elsa. For a year and a half I tried to woo her, even when she kept telling me that she didn’t want a boyfriend when she is schooling. I told her I’d wait until school is over. I would have waited, but apparently she changed her mind sometime when we were Form 4 because she begin to date this guy who was on the football squad.
After school, there was this girl named Shafiqah who I met during my first year of college. I tried so hard to get to know her, and for awhile it seemed she liked me too. Then, one fine Valentines Day, and after buying a nice gold bracelet and a bouquet of flowers, I was ready to ask her to be my girlfriend. What I didn’t count on was another guy, this fucking rempit on his fucking motorbike, actually beating me to the punch. I had been minutes late because I saw the guy giving her flowers and a box of chocolates and she had smiled and was nodding her head to something. She saw me, and saw me walk away, and that night I received a text from her saying “Maafkan saya.”
Months later, there was Julia, who was with me for four months. She had been my first ‘girlfriend’, and I admit I was in love with her, up until the point she decided I was, in her words, “fat and weak,”. See, before I was Dhani Ibrahim, sleek and suave, I was Dhani Ibrahim, overweight and clumsy. Julia had said, “You’re not taking care of yourself, you’re overweight and you don’t care, how am I supposed to be with someone who can’t even take care of himself?” So Julia dumped me. It wasn’t so bad because we had only been dating six months.
Then there was Maria, whom I met during my internship. I was still overweight this time, but Maria said she liked it, because “chubby guys are nice to cuddle,”. I was overjoyed. For three-quarters of a year we dated, until one day she wasn’t picking up my calls so I decided to surprise her at her office. Surprised she was, and luckily for the guy she was sucking off she wasn’t so surprised to bite off his cock. That ended there and then without us saying anything.
Then there was Wan Sarah. She was amazing; beautiful with her brown hair and tanned skin, her luscious lips. She was a fellow investment banker I met at a conference, during my first investment banking job. We had talked, exchanged numbers. WE became close. One day I asked her out, she said yes. This went on for months, and I gathered courage to ask her to be my girlfriend and she said yes. I was ecstatic. She was my first real kiss, and that happened in her Honda City after I accompanied her to this wedding in Ampang. I had said “I love you” after that kiss and she had said “I love you too, forever”. We had held hands. We had always held hands wherever we went.
After a year dating, we made love to each other for the first time on New Years Eve, when we checked in at The Westin in Kuala Lumpur after we got our bonuses. That had been wonderful; i remember how she let me take off her clothes one by one and let me explore every inch of her body with my hands and mouth. I remember too how it felt inside her, wet and hot and tight. Our relationship got even stronger after that. Another year passed by, and by this time, I introduced her to my only living relative, my sister, Qhairunnisa, who was a single mother to twins. She had approved, and it looked like I had found my soul-mate.
But five years ago, Wan Sarah had asked to meet me to tell me she wanted to break up. I had asked why. She had cried, saying that she wasn’t happy, that this wasn’t working out for her. I had tried, in vain, to defend out relationship. She insisted, and being the romantic fool I was back then, I had told her, “Very well. If it means you can achieve happiness without me, then so be it. I said to you once I’d do anything for your happiness; I meant it, even if it means letting you go.” Wan Sarah hugged me and thanked me and told me that she would “always love me.” WE said a tearful goodbye, and I had gone home and cried and went to my sister and cried. I spent a few days moping around, doing work like a zombie, crying alone at night and calling my sister for some comfort.
Dhanila always told me to believe in silver linings. Then one day in Pavillion, as I went there to meet my real estate agent who would eventually sell me the house I’m living in now, I saw Wan Sarah holding hands with a Mat Salleh, walking in front of me, then the Mat Salleh pinches her ass and she squeals with delight. Then Wan Sarah saw me, and she tried to avoid me, but something got hold of me and I walked up to her and her fucking Mat Salleh.
“Are you happy now?” I had said.
“Dhani, I..” she stammered.
“It’s only been a few weeks,” I say.
“Is something wrong here, mate?” the Mat Salleh interjects but I ignored him. Wan Sarah wasn’t saying anything, so I just walked away. Moments later I had received a text from her, that read: “Dhani, I’m sorry. I actually met him half a year ago and we just.. clicked. I didn’t have the heart to tell you the truth because it’d break your heart.”
I only replied: “K”, and I never saw her again.
But I had gone home that day and cried, again, feeling maudlin and pathetic and weak. None of my relationships up to that point had worked out. Elsa didn’t misled me to thinking she wasn’t into relationships. Shafiqah gave me good vibes only to let me down. Julia thought me fat and weak, and a loser. Maria sucked off another guy. And Wan Sarah… lovely Wan Sarah thought I wasn’t fulfilling her desire to be happy.
Something then clicked within me: what was the point to all this? Why bother with these relationships at all when they were complicated, full of illusion and lies? Why bother falling in love, investing time, money and spirit to a single person only to be heart-broken and left feeling hollow?
I came to the conclusion I didn’t need any of that; love and all it’s associated drama. I would live alone, but I would fuck every girl left and right since fucking was the only thing I genuinely remembered made me feel great during the last relationship. I wouldn’t do the whole flowers and chocolate thing anymore, or bother thinking about the right words to say to that one, beautiful girl you hope would be yours. No longer would I allow myself to be vulnerable and hurt.
SO I lost the weight, groomed better, and behaved better. After one year, girls begin to look my way. I still remained quiet and let them. Then I begin to go to clubs and lounges and begin to get phone numbers passed my way. I knew at this point that I had nailed the look. I was already a good talker and a charmer, skills I used for my job. Now the physical boxes have been ticked. The first girl I brought home for a one night stand was a Malay girl, Intan. Her sex tasted like sweet victory. I knew I was going to do this for the rest of my life.
But first, revenge.
I managed to get hold of Elsa’s phone number and called her up to meet her on the basis of ‘old friends’. She had come to see me, and I could have sworn she caught her breath when we met. I flirted extensively with her, and asked her if she was single, and she had said yes and she had blushed and smiled. Then before we went back, she had asked, “So, when are we seeing each other again?” I answered: “Never,” and left without saying goodbye.
Next I met with Shafiqah, who was at her workplace. She, too, was single. She, too, seemed unbelieving when she saw me. It was near lunchtime when we met, and she had asked, rather flirtily, “Sooo.. nak makan sama-sama tak?”. I shook my head, turned around, and sent her a text saying: “Maafkan saya.” She didn’t reply.
Next, I called Julia and asked her to meet me in KLCC. She agreed (they all did, I wonder why?) Her eyes widened when she saw me, and the first thing she said to me was “You look good.” I smiled my best smile at her, gave her the finger, and said, “You look fucking fat.” Then I left.
Then, I called Maria and asked her to meet me in the lobby of the Marriot Hotel. But I didn’t go; instead, I had asked one of the front office staff to pass her an envelope. In it was a picture of me sporting my new look, and also a picture of a pretty Chinese girl giving me a blowjob. She must have received it, because I got a text saying ‘F U DHANI!’ that evening.
Finally, there was Wan Sarah. I called her up, asking to meet. When we did, she hugged me, said she missed me. We talked about our past relationship, and I noticed she was constantly ogling me. She must have liked what she saw. She leaned closer and told me, “You know, malu I nak cakap, but I kinda miss having your cock inside me.” She then batted her eyelids and bit her lip. “I miss you Dhani,” she continued. “Maybe, I don’t know… maybe we were broken apart so we could met again and continue where we left off?” She had given me a look that, a year ago, perhaps, would have made me weak at the knees.
I smiled, laughing. “No; we were broken apart so you could go after some white mans balls. I came here to say thank you, because without you, I wouldn’t be the man I’ve become.” Then, right on cue, this lovely Indonesian girl walked up to me and took my hand. “Hello sayang,” the Indonesian girl said. I had met her a few nights ago, and had asked her to meet me at the exact moment I would be meeting with Wan Sarah.
“Sarah, meet Tijani, my girlfriend,” I introduced. Wan Sarah looked bewildered, but shook the hand Tijani offered.
“Saya tunggu di kereta iya,” Tijani said and walked away.
“Dhani, why?” Wan Sarah said. She looked angry, and confused, and betrayed.
I got up, looked down at her and before I walked away, said, “Because I wanted to see the look on your face.”

***
 In time, I begin to shed every ounce of belief I ever had in ‘love’. Because by this time I had come to believe that it doesn’t and has never existed. It was just a concept invented to sell songs and movies for losers to believe in. I begin to disdain the feeling; and I thought to myself, ‘well, if apparently I’m not worthy to receive ‘love’ from any of you fucking bitches, then no one will receive mine.’ I saw couples who walked hand in hand, smiling at each other, and first I felt hatred for them, but then I only felt sorry.
Because I knew that whatever they had wouldn’t last. It was all part of this grand delusion.
“I love you, you love me, forever?”
 Please. Grow up.

 *forgive any typos and grammatical errors; will edit!