Love is a Tinder thing

If you're on Tinder and happen to be in Jakarta at some time, it won't be strange if you come across my Tinder profile. Just like others who portray their personality as: 1) that perfect friend surrounded by a lot of people (so you may not look like a lone, miserable human being), 2) adventure-seeker or trend-watcher drenched in curiosity-inducing activity (you're not going to THAT concert? Or, oh hi, I like to do bungee jump in my spare time), and 3) all featuring your own face in the most stunning way possible (that perfect angle? that God-just-so-flawless-lighting accompanied with #iwokeuplikethis #after25minsofmakeupofc), then you will see a photo of me, wearing Minnie ears headband complete with the bow... sitting right in front of my office desk.

Okay so, the first thing I need to clarify is: although the photo suggests otherwise, I am a die-hard fan of the Duck couple. Since Daisy's pink bow is less iconic than mouse's ears, also up to this point Disney haven't invented wearable beak (in which I'm 100% sure it will help me to get more matches), so I chose to wear the headband that I bought at a Disney on Ice event a couple of years ago.

Looking at that particular photo, a guy from Japan, according to his personal standard, asked if I happened to be a supermodel. For a split second, I thought he really needs to take an eyesight test.

Talking about another Japanese expat (now you can guess my type!), which actually also the first time I met someone from Tinder—I ended up alone in my rent room, confused at how rude he was when we were having a light drink. He was talking in his broken English about going to have a farewell party thrown for him at his apartment and occasionally emphasizing the word 'FUCKING' several times in his sentences, like, '...my FUCKING friends are going to have a FUCKING farewell party for me,' and I sincerely couldn't recall the rest since he hadn't mentioned anything that worth remembering and had the meaning of 'oh I should come with him'. The only good thing was, he left me, frustrated, with two Rp100k bills to pay for our drinks (which cost less than that and as a broke first-jobber, I kept the change. HA!) Later I learned two things from my poor ability in reading social cues: 1) that perhaps God had saved me from going home with that weirdo, and apparently, 2) this is also the reason I never had a boyfriend in my entire, soon-to-be 27 years old life. Dang it! (I'm so sorry for the guys who ever got close to me during my school and college years!—as I internally shout into the void of my memories.)




(to be continued)

26 out of 23

She's about to turn 27 soon, and she never believes in girls who long for a happy ending with a guy.

'Ending' itself is a sad word to her, a period—so why would they, the girls, be looking forward to something that ceases to exist? Especially, why would it only happen with a 'guy'?

And 'why only girls' you would ask? Because admit it: how often the term is used toward the opposite gender? Hm? Is it next to nothing?

It's infuriating already being born in the world as a girl, for it's only them who've been constantly reminded that their sole purpose in life is to find a knight in shining armor or a prince charming, perhaps even a Messiah—as if they're completely helpless and continuously need to be saved, or else they'd grow old and die a tragic death, as witches and stepmoms (the actual rebels) usually do.

To her, the conclusion is always this simple: that looking at marriage as a finish line is a questionable act.

'You just don't understand the context,' others would say when they heard her opinion about this. 'See it as something wonderful that finally happens to their long, mundane existence.'

She moves her body forward and smiles. 'What if I can propose a new idea?'

'Imagine if the mundane existence is something that other people—I mean, and please note that, people aside from anyone who identifies themselves as a woman—created because they knew we are way more superior than them?' she continues to babble with her hands wide open, rapidly moving here and there as if to catch something out of her reach. An idea, or better, an unimaginable idea, at least towards this girl who just happened to be thinking about it out loud.

'Like, how would you react if you knew from the beginning that princesses—who are, girls like us—could've had our happiness without competing with each other,' she coughs for a second and adds, 'Cinderella and such,' then proceeds her rant, 'and that the idea of...

(to be continued)