Chapter 23 Indonesian Stories (22)

I haven't been to a bar for a long time.Even in Italy, I didn't go to bars; during the years with David, I rarely went out.I think the last time I danced was when I was married... so to speak, when I was happily married.God, that was hundreds of years ago.I bumped into my friend Stephania, a vivacious Italian girl I met recently from a meditation class in Ubud, on the dance floor;After midnight, the orchestra stops playing and everyone talks to each other. That's when I met a guy named Ian.Oh, I really like this guy.I really liked him the moment I met him.He's very good-looking, kind of like the younger brother of Sting and Ralph Fiennes.He was Welsh, so he had a good voice.He was articulate, intelligent, good at asking questions, talking to my friend Stefania in the same babbling Italian as I did.It turned out that he was the drummer of the reggae band, playing the tambourine.So I joked that he was a "drummer," like a Venetian gondolier, only he played drums instead of rowing, and somehow we hit it off and started talking and laughing.

Felipe - that's the Brazilian's name - came up next.He invites us all to a cool local European restaurant, a non-stop party spot that, he promises, always serves beer and shit.I looked at Ian ("Does he want to go?") and he said yes, so I said yes.So we went to this restaurant and Ian and I sat there all night talking and laughing like, oh, I really like this guy.It's been a long time since I've known a man I like so much.He's a few years older than me, has a pretty good life, has a great bio (likes The Simpsons, has traveled the world, lived in a dojo, quotes Tolstoy, seems to have a job, etc.).He first served in the British Army as a Bomb Squad Commissioner in Northern Ireland, before becoming a transnational mine detonator.Gai refugee camp in Bosnia, currently on vacation in Bali to study music... quite a fascinating resume.

I can't believe I haven't slept or meditated at 3:30 in the morning!I was up in the middle of the night, in a dress, talking to an attractive man, and it was horribly aggressive.At the end of the party, Ian and I both admitted that it was a pleasure getting to know each other.He asked me if I had a phone number, and I told him I didn't, but I had email, and he said, "But email feels too..." So at the end of the party, we just exchanged a hug."We'll meet again, as long as they," he said -- pointing to the gods -- "agreed." Before dawn, old Brazilian Felipe gave me a ride home.We were driving on winding village roads and he said, "Honey, you've been talking all night with the worst fart in Ubud."

My heart sank. "Ian is really a fart?" I asked, "Tell me the truth now and save yourself trouble later." "Ian?" Felipe said.he laughed. "No sweetheart! Ian's a serious guy. I'm talking about myself. I'm the stinkiest guy in Ubud." We drove on in silence for a while. "I was just joking anyway." After another long silence, he asked, "You like Ian, don't you?" "I don't know." I said.Not quite clear in my head.I drank too many Brazilian cocktails. "He's charming and smart. I haven't liked anyone in a while."

"You're going to have a great few months in Bali. Just wait and see." "But I don't know how many more parties I can go to, Felipe. I only have one dress. You'll find me always in the same suit." "You're young and beautiful, sweetheart. All you need is a dress." Am I really young and beautiful? I thought I was old-fashioned and a divorced woman. I could barely sleep that night, still unaccustomed to the hours of the night, the dance music still ringing in my head, my hair smelled of smoke, my stomach protested against the alcohol.I dozed off and got up at sunrise, as I always do.It's just that I didn't get any rest this morning, I didn't feel peaceful, and I wasn't qualified to meditate.Why am I so restless?I had a good time last night, didn't I?I know interesting people, dress up, dance, flirt with some guys...

man. The thought of the word made my restlessness grow into a panicky worry.I don't know how to do this anymore.In my teens and twenties I was the most daring flirt ever.I still remember thinking it was funny: meeting a guy, hooking him, making ambiguous invitations and teases, ignoring any warnings, letting the consequences unfold.