I am the black widow to these innocent Balinese boys. I was obsessed and on the hunt, totally seeking to find one that would be with me. Putu was married and barely spoke english, and it was before I spoke much Indonesian at all. I was sleeping in rustic cabins with him and another Balinese man who worked at the hotel who owned the cabins. I went to bed that night after an evening by the fire with them and feeling the pull so hard to seduce him. It was difficult with the other man there. They shared a room; if they hadn’t, I would have knocked on his door at night and slipped inside. I manipulated him the next day to take me to a hot spring, and to drive me on his moped. He drove around town with his mirrors off of his motorbike; before we drove the hour to get there, he stopped, took the bike mirrors out from underneath the seat, and screwed them back in, as well as put a helmet on. I told him I thought he was ganteng, attractive, and put my arm around his waist as we sped through the Bali countryside. I asked if it was okay, and he squeezed my hand.