Cartoon Mice: Bule on a bike.
I have been thinking recently either I should write this or not. I think I should. In three years’ time, I have dated three foreigners. Or as Indonesians call them: bule. No, I am not a bule hunter. I have dated Indonesian before. And let me tell you, despite those stereotype of Indonesian girls dating a bule would go for their money, for sex, or just completely stupid… I am not one of them, and I know some people who don’t.
My first bule boyfriend, let’s call him James was an Englishman working as an English teacher whom I knew for only about a month before we started dating. My friend set me up because we lived closed to each other. I knew it was a short time and I thought at that time I wasn’t expecting any long-term relationship and I wanted to just ‘try’ and play around. However, the relationship turned out to last quite long, a year.
At those innocent times of my young age, my stereotype of a bule boyfriend was romantic, giving, caring, independent and has a good perspective of woman being equal in a relationship. James got almost everything, except the fact that he’s a bit of anti-social and super introvert which gradually made me the same person as he was… and I lost my world-before-him. He was just a bit weird, he didn’t even talk with his family often.
As the relationship went, the gap was too big, we had too much unreasonable fights. But I am a kind of person who never have the gut to leave, afraid to hurt the significant other and scared to be alone again. I tell you, I was wrong. Hey woman, be brave to take decision for your life because when someone else does it much more painful for yourself.
My second bule partner, Dean was an American working in an English daily where I used to work. Why partner? Because we were never really an item. There was no intention of us to be more than anything but friends. But on the night when I was alone and sick, the same night when my cousin broke the news about my dad’s passing…he was there. It was an extremely sad night, and I felt like the loneliest person on earth, and there he was… He felt my sadness, and the fact that my dad’s passing left me as a lone orphan made him feel that he was responsible to be there.
He never told me why we could never be together, as together in a loving relationship until I found out that he has someone else back home. So all I was only a “spare tire” and a “companion” for him to use as long as he needed. Ugly that was.
After those two past experiences I told myself I don’t want to date a bule ever again. I distant myself from men and thought it might be good for me to start dating with myself for a while. But God knows how, I met this English man who was stubborn enough to not go when I pushed him away and funny enough to give me a sore throat after too much of laughing. And he seems normal. By saying normal I meant he is not cheesy romantic but sweet and silly and close with his family. Normal as in he gives me reasons of why we could be together instead of hiding painful facts behind my back.
Not all bules are romantic, some of them might find it difficult to express their love, like Indonesian does. Most bules are party animals, but some not. I don’t go to parties, I go to eat good food and sweet cakes. Some just don’t understand it. Some bules go for stupid Indonesian woman who doesn’t even speak okay English for the sake of having a free maid and free sex. Some of them could be loving too, though.
Is there any difference between dating bule and Indonesians? Of course there is, but nothing major except for the cultural gap. One more thing: dating a bule means you have to always be ready to get stared at… and to lend your boyfriend for Indonesians who want to take photos.