On Solitude: Of All the Men I’ve Ever Fucked With

It was a tiring night.

We arrived late at the hostel. With some other fun travellers and karaoke, my sister and I went to our two-bed dorm at five. Nine in the morning, I woke up to a knock on the door. Someone opened our door and poked his head inside. It was the hostel owner. He gestured me to leave the room and led me to another room. I made sure the door was being left open.

I don’t remember much details about it. Maybe we chatted. Then he asked me to sit down and told me he was going to give me a massage. He massaged my neck and shoulders in a not-so-gentle way.

He gave me a bathrobe and asked me to take off my cloth and wear it. I didn’t take off my clothes but I wore the bathrobe. He asked me to lie on the bed and I did. While I lay down and put my head nicely on the pillow, I looked him in the eyes and asked, “Are you going to rape me?”

He replied without changing his tone, “I would have done it if I want to. My wife is next door.” Then he grabbed my forearm for a few seconds. I guess to show me he has the strength to do anything.

I got up and left the room. I went back to my room and made sure I locked the door this time. I didn’t tell my sister about it, who was sleeping soundly next to me after a long journey. Because I shouldn’t have trusted someone and left the room. I was 18.

It was a hot summer day.

I stood on the side of a highway, having my thumb up. I have done my research. People said it’s quite dangerous for women to hitchhike alone in Australia but hitchhiking in Tasmania should be fine in general. Before this, I’ve hitchhiked quite a bit.

A pickup truck stopped and I got in. I would always remember how this man looked like. How he has this golden hoop earring on his left earlobe. In Australia, they drive on another side of the road. We didn’t talk much except a few basic introductions like I always do when I first got in the car. After a very long silence, he asked me how old I am and do I have a boyfriend back home. I answered politely. After another short silence, he asked if I can give him a blowjob. I declined and he immediately said he can pay me. With a banknote holding up in his left hand. I declined again and asked him to stop the car and I would like to get off here. He replied with: we’re almost there.

I held the only thing I had which is my stainless steel bottle. I really needed to gear up, right? Just then he touched my right chest. Even though I have worn my jacket and he didn’t really feel my skin, I twitched and yelled, “let me get off.” He stopped the car and I got off. I was madder than scared. I noticed that he ditched me right after he tried to touch me. He’s more of a coward than a rapist. I was being lucky.

I called my host and told him right there and then. What can he do about it? What can I do about it? I blamed it on being an Asian girl and smiled too much so people think they can pay you.

I was 19.

It was one car after that. I stopped smiling.

After a few words exchanged, he asked me if I can have sex with him. I think I literally rolled my eyes.

“Handjob?” He is old. When I use the word old, I mean above 60. I really don’t have the time and energy for this. I got out of the car quicker than I thought without forgetting to lecture him.

“Imagine someone asks your mother, sisters and daughters, just think about that.” I slammed the door. For fuck’s sake, I need to lecture strangers in the lamest way.

It was a lazy afternoon.

I arrived in an art studio stating to be one of the biggest back in my hometown. It was a three-hour sketching session with the owner only.

We did a 15/5 session for three hours. We had a good chat, talking about travels and museums. Everything went good. He paid me good money as a figure model. I left the studio.

A few days later, he texted me asking if we can do another session. It’s just this time he would like to see me putting my fingers in my vagina and he sent me a few photos for references. He was painting one of our most famous classical erotic novels. I declined the offer due to my other work schedule. He blocked me. I bought a switchblade to make sure we can keep everything professional.

I was old enough.

It was a fun night.

I haven’t been clubbing for a long while. The music was nice, the crowd was nice, I went with my friend. I was dancing on a table stage, having a good time. A stranger guy went between my legs and put me on his shoulders and carried me all the way out of the club. It was fun. I laughed. I have always loved partying hard.

But he kept walking and walking. And finally, he put me down at the side of the road. He touched his belt and asked if I can help him with a handjob.

Oh jesus, now I have to walk all the way back in my heels.

It was a very dark street.

I was on my way back to my hostel. Some guys whistled and made some moaning sounds. I had my switchblade in hand.

It was a hard day.

I thought I was visiting an acquaintance. We were in a public space where people can just come and go. I was having a hard time. He started to caress my thighs with both of his hands. He touched my chin. I stood up trying to leave. He tried to hold me and kiss me by holding up my chin. I pushed and ran.

I blame myself for reaching out in the first place; I blame myself for showing my tears in the first place. I immediately told several friends about it but what are they going to do? I cried at the side of the street for 15 minutes and then moved on with my life.

There might be something else that I cannot recall anymore but they all remain to be my stories. It got me thinking; it does not get me in grudge. I thought about why: why do they think it’s okay to behave like this, why no one calls them out or do I have the strength to call them out. I was writing about it and I will keep writing about it because it had happened, along with other kindness I’ve received from this world. Life is not black and white. We need to be capable of staying in the greyish part. The world is still a beautiful place but the world is a very different place depending on what’s there between your legs. You can either be resentful or try to make this world a more vagina-carrying-people friendly place. Maybe for everyone, no matter what you have, I don’t really care. Make this world a better place.

Some people say this is dangerous. As a woman, you should stay home and keep your legs tight. Stop travelling alone. But I think the real danger is to start classifying the world as black and white, men and women, heroes and villains; to let the bad trick you into believing there’s nothing good left in this world, losing trust in people, ignoring the fact that instead of locking people in, we should be making this world a place where we all feel welcome.

Abandoning your beliefs because of a few black spots; now that is dangerous.