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Quote by Christian Simamora

“Aku kepengen jalan berdua lagi sama kamu setelah kita sama-sama di Jakarta nanti. Like, dating you properly, Mikela Chalid.” Dia menarik napas panjang, lalu mengembuskannya pelan. “Aku ingin kenal kamu lebih jauh, lebih dalam. Aku ingin tahu lebih dari sekadar makanan favorit, warna favorit, atau hobimu. Aku ingin tahu bagaimana caranya membahagiakanmu, apa yang mesti aku hindari supaya nggak membuatmu menangis. Aku ingin tahu cerita-cerita remeh setelah lulus sekolah. Aku ingin mendengar masa-masa buruk yang membuatmu down, atau ketika kamu patah hati. Aku ingin tahu rahasiamu, isi hatimu. Cinta pertama dan patah hati terakhirmu. Aku ingin tahu semuanya dan tak berencana mundur selangkah pun.” “....” “Because if I date you, I want it to last.” Miki menemukan sesuatu di mata Jeron, lidah-lidah api semangat yang dia nggak yakin bisa padam dengan mudah. “If I date you, I’m dating you with a purpose.”

Quote by Christian Simamora

Book:Crying In My Porsche #CIMP
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Crying In My Porsche #CIMP

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Christian Simamora

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“Look at her,” he said to himself. “Holding hands! She’s probably already camped in the woods with him! Exchanged supernatural stories. Dinner dates. Shared food! Sex in the car! Concerts! I can never reach a woman like that. She’s too experienced. What new could we do? Even if we were right for each other, I’d always feel small.” Once lonely, it seemed the evolution of lonely was getting lonelier, as if sad heads boarded a lifeboat in an ocean that naturally pulled one farther and farther apart from the coast of love. Andrei still hoped though. For that coast. That was the thing with this sailor—nothing was waiting for him, but maybe there was. Every time he met someone, his eyes were slightly far away, as if asking in his head: “It’s nice to meet you, but are you there? Did you suffer and reach that place yet? You know that place. Those in that place know that place. After Tolstoy? After a thousand movies? Will you say an honest sentence?” Oh, did he beg, secretly, for strangers to meet him on that lonely floor of life—where life, still hard, was earned, and true, and golden. The place, he cried, we recognize in media, binging in our beds, but don’t dare reach on sidewalks.”

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“He'd told Alejandra this many times, but his comments had been so small in the grand scheme of things. She now knew that the largest parts of people escaped in tiny ways, tiny words, and tiny looks. One was not permitted to let themselves go and because they gripped so tightly trying to keep together the puppet they presented, parts of identity snuck their way out of holes, and released, transforming into something like a harmless quip their lover would forget. But their lover would remember it. Afterward. The schedule of human understanding was almost always set: afterward.”

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“We sat down to eat, right?” continued Gonzales. “And so... yeah, we sat down to eat and then we talked about chairs. Chairs! That drove our conversation gooooood. And none of us wanted to talk about it, but we smiled and made the best of it. Said a bunch of smart things about chairs—and French café chairs, and shopping for one, and sofas and her thoughts on the proper cushioning. And it was very engaging, but why didn’t any of us cut the crap and say, ‘I don’t care about chairs. I want to— I don’t know—roll around in the grass with you!’ We just spend the whole couple of hours able to grasp each other’s ideas and respond perfectly, but it’s so careful that we don’t get anywhere. I don’t know why that happens. We got love all up in our heads, man. We articulate who we are, but we don’t show people. She and I are just clever. There’s no chemistry in being clever. I mean, why interview on dates man? It’s not like anyone’s gonna tell the truth. Better to lay down with her, like cubs, really be with her, and see if we want to hold each other or not. But you can’t ask someone to do that, huh?” said Gonzales, defeated.”

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