Continuation of Karat Romance #4.
He came over to where I was seated and started the conversation with a generic sentence.
“Hey, it’s been a while, huh?”
Uh, not long enough apparently because I still remembered his existence. But it’s okay, I was at a better place — a higher place, if you will — so I laughed and asked when he got back to KL.
Eventually the two of us sat at a different table to catch up. We were both genuinely enthusiastic to see one another again but after one too many drinks, we were enthusiastic to do other things besides having a conversation.
The saying goes, “if you put your mind to it, anything is possible,” so, somehow, our intentions synced. We both wound up making out in his car — we were in the city, driving back to either one of our homes would’ve been a nightmare given our states of mind but damn, the number of things two people can do in a cramped space astounds me to this day.
He drove me home; I thanked him for the good night and wished him a pleasant stay in KL until he had to leave again.
At this point, I felt complete.
I finally knew what it felt like to be intimate with this person whom I was disgustingly fond about. I had a pleasant conversation with him; we kissed before I got out of the car and I had no intentions of seeing him again. I was content with the progress.
But it couldn’t just end like that.
A few weeks later, my sister ran into my room frantically to tell me that he had been telling his friends about what the two of us were up to. Some bits of it were true and some weren’t (i.e: “she started everything, I didn’t want to do anything, I’d never make out with her while I was sober”) — it was as though he needed to make fun of what happened in order for his friends to stop teasing him about disappearing with me for the night; as though he was embarrassed for being with me.
Here’s a little life lesson: if the person you’re going out with enjoys hanging up everyone’s dirty laundry for the entire world to see, he/she will do the same to you — leave.
I was upset, of course, but I had cried enough over this disrespectful human being that I couldn’t help but laugh about this incident. I hoped that he felt more of a man after saying all that he did or his snide comments would’ve been a waste.
As Karma would have it, we both found ourselves in the same mamak one night. Him seated with the group of friends he had mentioned me to and me with a couple of my friends.
His friends looked at me and giggled — it felt like I was back in high school only these guys had graduated secondary education 8 years ago.
Something clicked in my mind; I walked over to him.
“Was it really necessary for you to talk about me in that manner?”
“I don’t know what you’re talk–“
“You told these guys about us making out. Was it necessary?”
“No, I didn’t, I–”
“Will you ever own up to anything that you do? When will you grow up?”
“Look, I didn’t–“
“I just want to know why you thought it was necessary to say all that you did about me. You weren’t complaining when we were making out — in fact, you’re the one that wanted to keep going so, how were you doing it for me?”
His facial expression was the visual definition of the word loser. His friends signalled him to defend himself but suddenly Simon & Garfunkel’s ’The Sound of Silence’ became his anthem.
Everyone was focused on him — attention was something he was use to, but confrontation was not; he ran out of the mamak.
His friends were puzzled; I was laughing.
This grown ass man that had “nothing to hide” ran out of the mamak because I had asked him a few questions that were in reference to statements he made himself to seem like making out with me was an act of charity.
I felt victorious.
It wasn’t a competition to see who could embarrass who the most. No, of course not, but I felt like I had won because I reacted in a way that he did not anticipate. He was use to talking smack about various people and not having them stand up for themselves; he was use to making me cry and not having to be responsible for it because I never demanded for him to explain himself. He never had to deal with the consequences of his actions.
This time it was different. My only expectation for him was that he’d be an honest person with me as I was to him. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” right? But he couldn’t even respect that.
I congratulated his friends for being friends with a noble character, walked to the other end of the mamak, ordered myself two roti telurs (I deserved it) and lived happily ever after.
Relationships become easier to manage once a person acknowledges their worth and the person they’re sharing it with respects it. If you’re in a relationship with someone — platonic or otherwise — that doesn’t share your personal principles (i.e: hanging out with a misogynist even though you support feminism, continuing to be in a relationship with someone whom has cheated on you multiple times or something as simple as valuing your time), pack up and play Jay Z’s ‘On To The Next One’ because the only direction to move is onward.
Like Louise from Sex and the City, I too believe that love is real. I believe that relationship requires work; work that two people must be willing to take on together because once someone begins carrying more of the weight, the problems only increase.
I’m optimistic that I’ll find someone that’s on my wavelength (notice me, Kendrick Lamar) but until then I look forward to meeting more fuckboys as these relationships make great writing material.
I still remain as the Universe’s comedic relief because this guy reaches out to me every now and then to talk as he’s now realised that I’m the “only one who listens” to him and the only one he can be himself with. Kill them with kindness? Don’t mind if I do.
Will there be more stories from Karat Romance? Only time will tell but until then, this writer will continue being deluded with thoughts of having relationships with Kendrick Lamar or Trevor Noah. Follow her on Instagram @lxxvi__.