Sitting there alone in the crowd, killing time on Friday evening. People spent the weekends with their friends or the loved ones, not being alone like me. I didn’t want to go home right away, and I didn’t have the mood to do some cardio at the gym either, but I did the yoga and sauna.

We did some new yoga moves that afternoon. I was sweating a lot in the cold air-conditioned room. But I felt much stronger on the muscles, although I often forgot to breathe. I had to switch the sauna on myself and waited until it reaches 81 degrees. I didn’t know why, but I felt sad and lonely. I sent Klaus a message about it. He replied that no time for sadness at the gym! Build up your body and smile! Kisses and more kisses! That was so sweet of him and he always found a way to make me smile again.

I felt a bit better after reading his message, but something else made me laugh. When I was drying my hair, this woman kept staring at me and then asked:

“Are you a police officer, Miss?”

I was surprised by her question. I replied in laughter. But she didn’t believe me at all.

“What? A police officer? No, I’m not!”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Of course I am!” I said.

That was actually the second time that someone asked me the same question. The first one was because I was wearing those leather boots, which look like those female police officers wear, but I had a long hair back then. But that afternoon, I didn’t know what have made the woman thinks that I was an officer. I had a short hair, yes, but I was only wearing jeans and the Barong t-shirt. Was it my posture? But I’ve been always like that, although doing pilates and yoga have made it much better.

After the gym, actually I was planning to watch a movie at the free cinema, the Kineforum, but I couldn’t make it on time. So I was thinking, maybe I should have some dinner at the Vietnamese restaurant, the Vietopia, which was just opposite the gym. The king prawn with chili and lemon grass was my favorite. I’ve just realized that I’ve had many dinners with my foreign friends and guests there. I took my Acqua di Gio man to have a dinner there as well. Then he said that I had a delicate way of eating.

But instead, I went to this café, a Dutch style café. The café itself was quite new, but the building should be at least from the ’50-ies. I could have chosen to go to the other café, the one with a French name, the Café au Lait, for the wireless internet but I wasn’t sure that it has some cheesecakes. So I chose to come to this one, the Bakoel Koffie. It’s crowed and I wasn’t sure about the wireless internet, but it had some selections of cakes. Cheesecakes were definitely on the menus.

Actually, if it’s only for the free wireless internet, I could always use one at the office. I had to work over the weekend anyway. But when I was passing this café, when I was about to make the decision, I saw a man sitting next to the window with his computer on. I didn’t notice him at first, but there was a kid watching him from outside with his nose on the window. The man was of course felt annoyed. That’s how I noticed him, it’s a white man with curly hair. Cute, maybe, but he’s not my type.

So there was, the cheesecake. Since they didn’t have the chocolate cheesecake anymore, I chose a slice of the blueberry cheesecake and the iced koffie mocha to drink. I could have chosen the table next to the cashier, but then my heart kept saying that I had to take my chances with that man. He’s using his computer, and asking him about it would be a good pick up line!

There was an empty table across his, but there was also a backpack on one of the chairs. I hoped that it was not belonged to those Chinese men sitting in the middle of the room. But it could also be my first chance to start a conversation with him.

“Excuse me, is the table taken?” I asked him.

“No, please” he said.

“Is that your bag?” I asked again.

“Yes, but you can take the table. Do you want me to get the bag?”

Then I said “No, it’s alright. I’m only going to use this side of the table. Thanks!”

Nervously, I turned my computer on and hoped that the connection would work. They said that we didn’t need any passwords to be connected. But of course it didn’t work, just like most of the free wireless internet connection at many cafes. If it did, then it would be a bad one. I tried so many times to be connected to the link, also tried to the one from the gym. But none worked. So I asked that man again.

“Can you get connected to the internet?” I asked.

“No, not so good actually” he replied.

Then I could tell that English was not his mother tongue. He was speaking in a weird accent.

“But we don’t need any passwords, do we?” I asked again.

“No, no. It’s just a bad link” he said.

Then came my order; the cheesecake and the drink. The man looked at my order; he might think those things that I’ve ordered were not that healthy at all. Well, I didn’t know what he was eating, but I noticed that he was drinking some iced lemon tea.

I loved cheesecake! I remembered my time in Cairo, sitting at cafés with my Muse, Stefan. The best and famous cheesecakes in Cairo would be at the Marriott Hotel. But we also had some at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf in Zamalek, with a direct view to the Nile and the free wireless internet connection. I always had my green tea frappucino, he had his coffee while working or reading, and we shared the cheesecake. But they always played the same songs from Cat Steven, over and over again. My Muse said that playing the same songs repeatedly could actually be a smart way of kicking the customers out after spending too much time at the café!

So when I was back at the office again, one day, a colleague played some songs from Cat Steven. Then I wrote on my Facebook profile: “Listening to Cat Steven’s songs, the only thing missing is the cheesecake, Muse!” But that evening, there at the café, the only thing that missing was my Muse.

The iced koffie mocha drink had another story, and of course, that one came completely with some chantilly on top. What’s chantilly in English, anyway? I forgot. If I knew, could have ordered one without it, just to look like someone who cares a lot about her health. But I didn’t. But I knew exactly who would criticized me badly if he saw me having some chantilly in my drinks!

This man had always been so fussy about my eating habits. I said that I was only being choosy, but he disagreed. He believed that being choosy is different from being reluctant to try something new. Choosy means you are being selective and have only the best of each kind. So, he brought me to fancy restaurants every time we’re having a date and encouraged me to try new things, to taste all the best things in his life. I used to like white wine, but I’ve preferred to drink the red wine since, and it’s all because of him.

I remembered that he once got so angry with the waiter, no, actually with the manager of a fancy restaurant, the Cassis. I felt sorry for her who was just standing there, waiting, accepting and trying to persuade him to choose some other options. They had a wine list of course, like hundreds of them. But when he asked for a certain kind of wine, they didn’t have it. So he was so angry about it. Why the restaurant had to offer things that they didn’t have?

I didn’t try to calm him down at all, because I knew that getting angry was just in his nature. He gets his energy and creativity from being angry, and from the color of burgundy red that he loves. That’s why I liked him for; he’s the person I could always fight back. Just before I left to Cairo, after a dinner, I told him that I’ve missed having arguments with him! Well, I’ve missed looking into his beautiful eyes as well actually. Those curious and impatient eyes, but in the same time, I could also see the emptiness and the insecurity inside him.

The funny things was, when I was there again with Hoshi-san, to do a restaurant review for his newspaper, the Jakarta Shinbun, the restaurant still gave the same wine list, but this time, they wrote down the number of how many bottle left for each wine! Good! I believed they’ve learned from their mistakes and didn’t want anyone (like him) to make the same complaint!

Anyway, the cute man had just left, like that. He didn’t bother to say good bye at all. Damn! And I was still sitting there, writing this. Not too much left of the cheesecake and neither the drink. Spending time at cafes was not my thing at all actually. But it’s also nice to be there sometimes, when I had enough money or when I was just playing rich.

I always got a guilty feeling every time walking out from a café or somewhere pricey. Outside that fake world, the reality always managed to strike me hard. The unfortunate people lived outside that world. Sometimes some beggars came to the window asking for some money, or even watching us eating and spending money. The social gap was always too wide, much too deep.

There were also some kids who were watching my Muse and me when we’re having lunch at KFC in Cairo. (My Muse always said that buying me lunch or dinner at KFC was such a cheap date!) They then followed us, asking for some money. They were also some outside the KFC here in town, or maybe just some poor Bajaj drivers watching us from far away. That’s why I always tried to find a table away from the window, so I didn’t have to see them.

US$ 5 for the drink and the cake was quite expensive for me actually. Times 100 would be as much as my salary was per month. Times 14 would be the amount that I paid for my tiny box rent. So, this really was something luxurious for me, just like washing my dirty laundry in the washing machine!

But those people could afford to have some coffee there. And I could hear them talking in English. I believed some of us speak English better than they speak Indonesian. We mixed both languages in our daily conversation. As for me, it’s easier to write in English than in Indonesian, although my English was still far away from perfect. But the Indonesian language, the formal one….I didn’t know…but I’ve always felt too awkward to use it. Often that I couldn’t find the right word to use.

A couple sitting across my table, was getting dangerously closer to each other, at least the woman was. Touching him and flirting, she’s in love with him. While the man, I believed, was only trying to be nice to her.

The group of some Chinese men had left, but there was another group of few men and a woman sitting next to the wall back there. One of them was talking and flirting with a girl on the phone. Not flirting, but making fun of her, because he put the speaker on to let everyone hear the conversation. I just hoped that the girl was smart enough to know that the man was just using her.

Hate to leave, but I didn’t have too much power left on my computer. But it’s okay, leaving was much better than having to watch that couple having their date. So it’s just another weekend to spend alone.