I love a man in uniform. Tight shirt, pressed pants, polished shoes.
I love a man in uniform. But my man doesn’t wear those things. He wears a green jacket, dark jeans, and flip-flops. Or sometimes he doesn’t wear a uniform at all. He could be anyone, but I know it is HIM when our eyes meet, the same question on the tip of our tongues:
We have our own routine: he gives me a mask and a helmet, I give him directions. I give him colorful rupiah, he gives me freedom to explore. Together we ride through the narrow back alleys, where kilometer by kilometer my mental map is taking form.
Together we ride, and I am learning his moods. Sometimes he is full of questions and we wish the journey was longer. Sometimes we exchange no more than greetings and after that only the wind speaks.
It is a special relationship we have, he and I. Come May it will break my heart to leave him. But leave him I must, and so he shall stay forever in my memory as…
Thanks for everything so far, men of GoJek. My life is infinitely better now that you’re a part of it.
Note: this is written in jest/homage to GoJek. GoJek is an app like Uber that is predominantly used for motorcycles, although it has many other features ranging from food delivery to cleaning services. Due to the insane volume of traffic in Sidoarjo/Surabaya GoJek is my main form of transportation. So don’t worry, mom. I’m not running away with a GoJek driver.