Look at Me When You Come

Barcelona

It would have been different if Ben at least had a Facebook account, though in this situation, he might have blocked or unfriended me anyway.

Surprisingly I received a message there, from a girl who didn't seem familiar at all at first because she wasn't using her real name in her profile.

It was my ex girlfriend Nea who left me because she wanted to be straight again.

I had to accept her friendship request, considering I've been having a lot to ask, curious whether she's been doing okay, and of course, could be a good way to forget Ben.

She's now living together with a new girl, and to my greatest surprise, she's still keeping that hijab on her head.

"Sorry, if I may ask," I just had to get it out of chest. "I thought you wanted to be straight, to follow what your religion has taught you. How did you end up with another girl?"

"Oh, that." In her defense, she explained how she tried so hard to like a guy but she found out she was so in love with me, so she just couldn't find a man to replace me.

The hijab she's keeping is just a way for her to hide that part of her personality, from the society and her own parents. In any way, people still look down upon any same gender relationships in Malaysia. People will hate her and who knows, send her to the police?

I don't know. I was feeling all uneasy about it, like she had been betraying me all this time, though I don't have the proof for that.

I told her about Ben. All about him. She took it as if I was going through some kind of traumatic experience, and that I really needed company.

There she was, trying to create a conversation by complaining about her girlfriend now, like she had no choice but to stay, and that she is somehow a victim at some point.

The typical Nea, I thought. She has always been the whiney kind even when we were still together.

"Well at least she's taking care of you," I replied, after listening to one chunk of her story.

"I was attracted to her because she resembles you, somehow," she continued. "The way she walks with a backpack, you know. That reminds me so much of you."

All of a sudden, I got sad. I wished I had Ben to talk and complain this way for I was sure, she could be applauding over there with me sounding like I was less than she was.

If there was Ben, we would have told her off together, like calling her a bitch and asking her to fuck off.

I stopped responding to her, pretending I went to sleep. She got impatient after 3 or 4 days of no response from me. Not even a single 'hi' as a friendly gesture.

Not sure if I wanted to give a shit anymore. I figured if I went all quiet, all of those unnecessary thoughts about her would go away eventually.

I checked in to places, publishing them on Facebook and tweeted a little, but that was it. She knew I was actively online but chose not to be bothered with her issues.

"Seems you're moving on so well," she commented in a message. "I guess breaking up with me was not such a bad experience for you that you can easily leave behind and forget. I'm glad."

The 'I'm glad' bit was supposed to be cynical and I was pretty sure she brought that up to get my attention. This got me on my nerves.

"Wanna know something? This is exactly why we were never meant to be, you complaining psycho bitch! And here you are, still complaining except it was your choice to be a hypocrite. Either keep your religion ot leave it if it's stopping you from being with her. You can't have both. Or work abroad, like me, so you can be either gay, lesbian, straight, hooking up with random people without having to pretend and lie to your own God."

It didn't take long for her to process that, of course, and the moment she did, she blocked me from her Facebook account.

What a relief, I thought. At least now I could go back doing my own stuff instead of listening to her stupid stories, such as, maybe leaving more hints for Ben to read on Twitter.

I am stubborn. Yes, we did have sex a lot, but I knew we could stay friends and I'd prove it.

Although, like Lin said, our stories are not like in the movies. We had real issues, involving real feelings.

And real people that won't necessarily feel okay with being friendzoned by a person they love.

"Yup, she definitely deserves to be fucked in the butt. Go for it Ben!" I tweeted that after the whole series of insults dedicated to her. He'd understand what I meant, because we did joke once about having a threesome with her because she has a round sexy butt, but she doesn't like men.

"Aww too bad," as I recalled what he said. "Fuck her ass then. No lubricant."

"Ouch," I thought, as I laughed alone. Ben has a weird threesome idea, he doesn't want to fuck someone else, so he prefers watching me doing it with another person.

That's not a threesome anymore, I told him. That is just like watching pornography.

I uploaded some photos I took around Barcelona just to show him in case he'd check my Twitter. I retweeted things that maybe still mattered to him, or subjects that I know he liked, such as cars, basketball, volleyball, DIY, gym, electrical-related tips.

"Ben, please talk to me," I wrote at last. "I feel like I'm a terrible person but I need to hear that from you."

I packed my things up, ready for flying to Milan, Italy. This time the company rented an Airbnb apartment, like Ben's in Portugal. At least I wouldn't worry someone stealing my stuff because no more sleeping with 10 people in a room. And better, no more sharing bathroom with complete strangers.