When you are a teenager, and not an Arab, you have "the talk". You know "the talk". It's the one about the birds and the bees, and the condoms, and how you shouldn't be promiscuous, and such other topics in relation to sex. When you are Arab, The Talk is quite different. Our Talk involves a much higher level of thinking, which yes, does in some way partake the notion of sex, although subtle.
The Talk occurs at about the same age as the Non Arabs "talk". The Arabs talk about something along the lines of The Mistake and what to expect when meeting a nice Suitor for you in the future, or present depending on your circumstance. My talk occurred around that time, coincidentally when a cousin stated his undying love for me. I still happen to believe it was lust with the help of other aunts and uncles back in the Ol' Country.
Let's begin with the awkward, "(My Name), do you know that you will be thinking about marriage soon?" This was the wrong question to ask. I was thinking about getting my drivers license at 15 and how I was going to bump Montell Jordan in my tricked out ride. "Do you know what you will do when (The One) is going to come and say he wants to marry you?" I have never felt such burning in my chest when this happened! The Pushy Mom was nonchalant about this, and here I am, excited about being allowed to drive and shave my legs! It was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. I had dreams, aspirations, ambitions, and I felt it was all trumped by The Talk. The Talk gave me a new perspective from life. I was born to bear babies! I was a Monster factory! I couldn't handle it! "Do you know that you, my bint (Arabic word for "daughter") will eventually be given to man? You will be someone else's and no longer mine?" That's it! I'm outta here! Or at least that's what I thought. From that day on, I was determined to do one thing, and one thing only, go to college and be the first from my parents to get a degree. See, education wasn't a thing with both my mom and dad. For some reason, that was skipped with those two. Sometimes when I have talks, I see it. No offense, but come on! I was 15 years old! We weren't nomads! We were living in the south suburbs of Chicago with the rest of the Unimportant Acquaintances, who ironically, had made some sort of impact on The Pushy Mom considering that she was having The Talk with me at 15!!!
Well, time has passed. I am no longer 15. Yet, I am still single. I have accomplished most of my dreams and aspirations, and still withstands my strong ambition to become successful and independent of anyone that may walk in my life. It's working out for me good so far. I can sincerely say that I am happy to be who I am today. Although, I can do without the daily Talk. Now The Talk is more like, "Yallah, you're not young anymore!" Instead of, (my name) is going to work hard for what she has, it has become, you're not happy. Not Happy. I am not happy. Let me tell you why I'm not happy Pushy Mom. It's because I live with you and you remind me that life sucks without a man. You still haven't realized that I, the independent chicky, is completely satisfied without the The Debacle and The Mistake no where in sight of my future! I know I seem mean, but when I get The Talk, I feel as if I had failed everyone.
Then, the dreaded Ukbal 3ndik occurs and I just burst. First of all, I don't want to talk about my first night with my husband with you. I think, and I am sure that I am not alone in this notion of thought, talking about having sex with The Suitor is plain awkward. I don't want to tell you how we did it and how much it hurt. Every women that isn't a virgin has experienced their first night, and let me tell you something, those women talk about how shitty it is! Why would you make me recreate the horrid feeling in mind by having me explain it to you?!?! It's absurd! I've already gathered for X amount of years that I am a failure until I have a man. No matter what career path I chose, I am a failure. It's funny though, because all the Unimportant Acquaintances feel the same. "So and so has a Ph.D and she still isn't married and she is X years old. Ya haram (poor one)." Why so haram? What makes that person a hazeen (sorry fella)? Because she isn't married? That's ridiculous.
The irony of it all is when it does happen, and the divorce five years later. It's then the Pushy Mom (who is everyone's mom, btw) shuts the hell up.
Effing Mat, only worries about condoms while I worry about which towel I'm going to show the family.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The Better Side of Things
Can I just clarify something? Is that OK? I don't hate Arabs. I don't hate being who I am. In fact, I love it. I just realized that I always type out "in fact" by the way, and I am sorry for it. Back to blog. I love who I am, the culture I am a part of, the food I eat, the holidays I celebrate, and life I live. What irks me is how people perceive it on their end and how much of the majority obtain the same mentality.
When I blog about men, particularly Arab men, I blog because I cannot take the redundancy that I witness every time I meet someone new. I am not afraid to admit that I am willing to meet men. However, not the type that will take over my life and expect me to live on his terms. What shocks Arab women most is that ALL men have that tendency. What? White, Black, Mexican, and Chinese guys can be just as controlling (if not more) than Arabs.
Therefore, this is an ode to The Armrest. The Armrest is the one that has chivalry up and down his body. He is encased with gentleness and politeness and everything that is similar to gum drops and teddy bears. The wonderful thing about Arab Men, many are The Armrest. He is the Armrest due to the fact that when you walk down the street with him and when he wants you to hold him, he reverts to the 19th century style of handholding and I love it dearly. He places his fist near his stomach, creating a loop for you to insert your arm and grab hold of him. When you walk, it becomes unison and you have a sense of security. Your steps are to the same beat. You have the slight hop when you walk due to the excitement of the that one action. You have the protection and stability you have been looking for, all in that motion of grabbing his arm while you walk. It's the walk that you won't forget because you show everyone that you two belong together. You show Harlem St. that you two are unstoppable and don't give a damn about what the strangers think.
The Armrest opens doors, lets you in first, holds the chair out for you when you sit, and adores you. This really does happen. I had that at one point. Obviously do not have it now, but it was nice when I did. I would love to give a kudos to any women that does have that, however. Good men are hard to find, no matter who or what they are. They are just hard to find.
I believe that finding the right person takes time. It's all patience. To the women that waited and didn't take any random man that knocked on your door for you hand, I congratulate you. I congratulate you because you took the time to get to know the man for who he was and not for how much he's worth. OK, not all women do that, they may play the "get to know" game to see what he has and if he's worth it, monetarily. No worries, women are not perfect and I will soon bash them.
Patience is a luxory feeling. You have to understand it in order to have it. You can't just say you're patient and still shake your leg in nervousness. You must understand that it will happen. Whatever it is you are anticipating will occur, just wait. I feel that I am very patient. I've been through so much garbage (garbage = life experience, not men) that I have no choice but to be patient. Although, I don't think women a generation ahead of me are patient. I'm starting to lose patience with them and their nonchalant way of telling me a loser because I'm not married with the simple words of "Ukbal 3ndik". I am going to one day create a human mute button. What is this mute button? When someone tells me I'm old and dry and need to marry yesterday, I punch them in the mouth and knock out their teeth. Then, instead of people talking about how you aren't married, they'll think you're violent. When that occurs, people won't ask why you aren't married. Instead they'll assume you're violent and think that is the reason why. Oh to live in the perfect world.
For those that just took the first one they met, I'm sure you have your reasons. Whether it is to go to a new country, to get out of your strict home, because he has money, or because you want to get back and an old boyfriend, I feel sorry for your husband. However, he's probably a jerk and karma is a bitch. I believe it's true with the notion of getting what you paid for. I don't think women like this need mute buttons. Instead, I believe someone is trying to find the "off" button as a whole.
My mat is pretty expensive. It's not the quantity of shoes that step on it, it's the quality.
Also note: No, I am not in love. So no assumptions here.
When I blog about men, particularly Arab men, I blog because I cannot take the redundancy that I witness every time I meet someone new. I am not afraid to admit that I am willing to meet men. However, not the type that will take over my life and expect me to live on his terms. What shocks Arab women most is that ALL men have that tendency. What? White, Black, Mexican, and Chinese guys can be just as controlling (if not more) than Arabs.
Therefore, this is an ode to The Armrest. The Armrest is the one that has chivalry up and down his body. He is encased with gentleness and politeness and everything that is similar to gum drops and teddy bears. The wonderful thing about Arab Men, many are The Armrest. He is the Armrest due to the fact that when you walk down the street with him and when he wants you to hold him, he reverts to the 19th century style of handholding and I love it dearly. He places his fist near his stomach, creating a loop for you to insert your arm and grab hold of him. When you walk, it becomes unison and you have a sense of security. Your steps are to the same beat. You have the slight hop when you walk due to the excitement of the that one action. You have the protection and stability you have been looking for, all in that motion of grabbing his arm while you walk. It's the walk that you won't forget because you show everyone that you two belong together. You show Harlem St. that you two are unstoppable and don't give a damn about what the strangers think.
The Armrest opens doors, lets you in first, holds the chair out for you when you sit, and adores you. This really does happen. I had that at one point. Obviously do not have it now, but it was nice when I did. I would love to give a kudos to any women that does have that, however. Good men are hard to find, no matter who or what they are. They are just hard to find.
I believe that finding the right person takes time. It's all patience. To the women that waited and didn't take any random man that knocked on your door for you hand, I congratulate you. I congratulate you because you took the time to get to know the man for who he was and not for how much he's worth. OK, not all women do that, they may play the "get to know" game to see what he has and if he's worth it, monetarily. No worries, women are not perfect and I will soon bash them.
Patience is a luxory feeling. You have to understand it in order to have it. You can't just say you're patient and still shake your leg in nervousness. You must understand that it will happen. Whatever it is you are anticipating will occur, just wait. I feel that I am very patient. I've been through so much garbage (garbage = life experience, not men) that I have no choice but to be patient. Although, I don't think women a generation ahead of me are patient. I'm starting to lose patience with them and their nonchalant way of telling me a loser because I'm not married with the simple words of "Ukbal 3ndik". I am going to one day create a human mute button. What is this mute button? When someone tells me I'm old and dry and need to marry yesterday, I punch them in the mouth and knock out their teeth. Then, instead of people talking about how you aren't married, they'll think you're violent. When that occurs, people won't ask why you aren't married. Instead they'll assume you're violent and think that is the reason why. Oh to live in the perfect world.
For those that just took the first one they met, I'm sure you have your reasons. Whether it is to go to a new country, to get out of your strict home, because he has money, or because you want to get back and an old boyfriend, I feel sorry for your husband. However, he's probably a jerk and karma is a bitch. I believe it's true with the notion of getting what you paid for. I don't think women like this need mute buttons. Instead, I believe someone is trying to find the "off" button as a whole.
My mat is pretty expensive. It's not the quantity of shoes that step on it, it's the quality.
Also note: No, I am not in love. So no assumptions here.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
The Typical Ay-raaaab
There is nothing like going out somewhere in Rogers Park and having some great Indian Food. How about the trendy new restaurants always popping up in Wicker Park? I love the bakeries and coffee houses that trickle down Lincoln Ave. in Lincoln Square. Nothing is better than that on a warm summer day and a snowy winter night. However, it's the Viagra Triangle that has everyone talking.
The Viagra Triangle is quite the place to hang out when you're in the mood for getting some. Nothing like walking past a Bentley dealership en route to Gibson's before a great night of clubbing at Level and Hunt Club! Ah, sex is in the air. The best was the beautiful billboard set up by Fetman, Garland, and Associates, Ltd (an all women lawfirm) that had a half naked man on one side and a half naked women on the other side, tempting The Escape. More specifically, "Life is short, get a divorce."
Now this is something I love about Chicago. Compared to some other cities like New York and LA, we're small. But, the scandal is ridiculous here. What lies within the Viagra Triangle are men; many, many men. Young boys taint the scene, realizing that they are not wealthy enough to bathe the Trixies in the cash that they are looking for, but try and learn from the actual users of Viagra. What is worse is when you're in with The Suitor. You and The Suitor are out and about. You and him are going to make The Mistake and are planning for The Debacle. You both are in love with making The Mistake and you can't do anything about it. He takes you out. You think it's great. He has money. You are wooed. Yummy. You're life is looking up.
Well, you then see the life around and realize, why is this man taking me here? He talks about how much he loves it there. Why? What is it about this cross of Rush and Division that makes your stimulated mind leap with joy? Why do you get upset if I go to the gym with both men and women that do not look at one another, while you're encased with half naked women (and sometimes men)?
Well, once upon a time, The Suitor was a player. There are many types of Suitors ladies. There are the types that were once a This One, a Settler, The Other Religion, and now meet The Typical Ay-rab. The Typical is the guy that has done it all. He has lived and kissed and fucked and drank and snorted all there is in this wonderful world. He has raped cities of its integrity and brought to new light to the meaning of anal retentive. He is the guy that has no interest to do anything else except for what he is familiar with, thinking it is going to impress you, The Girl.
You have no idea. You think it's fantastic, he's taking you out, he knows the area well, he's not an idiot, and then some burly guy comes up and starts talking to The Suitor with an eye on you as if you are just the Saturday night special. The reputation is lit. He knows The Suitor's past and it's close to coming out, then change of subject. Now after this wonderful even in the adultery haven of the Midwest, you were earlier blasted for going to the gym with both men and women. You should not have had your music up so high that the car next to you knew what you were listening to. Your shirt was too tight becuase other men were looking and don't even think about the wine list. Although, it's OK if someone offers the table free drinks (that The Girl cannot drink because she is The Girl) because The Typical was important in the past life of being The Typical Ay-rab.
The Typical carries traits such as dominance, controlling, frustrates easy, doesn't like to be wrong, is always right, smart (even if he's not), thinks he knows what he is talking about when it comes to religion and being an Arab, thinks his experiences has taught him how to live, and thinks you will never find out. You're guts are going to have to be spilled because he expects it to be. He must know everything. You are not allowed to know nothing.
It's much more fun when you try to upset The Typical. Prove that they are wrong, that they aren't the dominant. For example, a conversation I had with one:
TG:"What do you think of girls and tattoos?"
TTA: "Do you have a tattoo?
TG: I asked you a question first, I would like for you to answer.
TTA: I'm not answering because you won't like my answer
TG: Why should I judge you if I asked YOU the question
TTA: Listen I don't care if you have a tattoo, I have a tattoo myself.
Another conversation I had with The Typical Ay-rab:
TG: ...and I bought a cookie. That was my day, how was yours?
TTA: "Where's your tattoo?"
TG: Did I ever say I had a tattoo?
TTA: No, but you asked the question
TG: If I ask a question, that doesn't imply I have one. What if I asked you about kids? Does that imply that I have or want any?
TTA: You don't have kids and of course you want some.
TG: Actually, no I do not. So, your theory of me having a tattoo is based on the assumption of my question that I asked you. You have yet to answer it.
TTA: Whatever
TG: I hate that word 'whatever'. Why do you get so frusturated with me when I'm just pointing someithing out?
TTA: I have to go.
End of conversation because he ran like a little bitch. One thing that you must do with The Typical Ay-rab is show him who is dominant. If he isn't willing to even answer ONE question now while you're in courting mode, what makes you think you can get anywhere in a real fight while you've already made the mistake?
The Mat is on a four hour Viagra high right now. Please check back when the black and blue and swelling have gone down.
The Viagra Triangle is quite the place to hang out when you're in the mood for getting some. Nothing like walking past a Bentley dealership en route to Gibson's before a great night of clubbing at Level and Hunt Club! Ah, sex is in the air. The best was the beautiful billboard set up by Fetman, Garland, and Associates, Ltd (an all women lawfirm) that had a half naked man on one side and a half naked women on the other side, tempting The Escape. More specifically, "Life is short, get a divorce."
Now this is something I love about Chicago. Compared to some other cities like New York and LA, we're small. But, the scandal is ridiculous here. What lies within the Viagra Triangle are men; many, many men. Young boys taint the scene, realizing that they are not wealthy enough to bathe the Trixies in the cash that they are looking for, but try and learn from the actual users of Viagra. What is worse is when you're in with The Suitor. You and The Suitor are out and about. You and him are going to make The Mistake and are planning for The Debacle. You both are in love with making The Mistake and you can't do anything about it. He takes you out. You think it's great. He has money. You are wooed. Yummy. You're life is looking up.
Well, you then see the life around and realize, why is this man taking me here? He talks about how much he loves it there. Why? What is it about this cross of Rush and Division that makes your stimulated mind leap with joy? Why do you get upset if I go to the gym with both men and women that do not look at one another, while you're encased with half naked women (and sometimes men)?
Well, once upon a time, The Suitor was a player. There are many types of Suitors ladies. There are the types that were once a This One, a Settler, The Other Religion, and now meet The Typical Ay-rab. The Typical is the guy that has done it all. He has lived and kissed and fucked and drank and snorted all there is in this wonderful world. He has raped cities of its integrity and brought to new light to the meaning of anal retentive. He is the guy that has no interest to do anything else except for what he is familiar with, thinking it is going to impress you, The Girl.
You have no idea. You think it's fantastic, he's taking you out, he knows the area well, he's not an idiot, and then some burly guy comes up and starts talking to The Suitor with an eye on you as if you are just the Saturday night special. The reputation is lit. He knows The Suitor's past and it's close to coming out, then change of subject. Now after this wonderful even in the adultery haven of the Midwest, you were earlier blasted for going to the gym with both men and women. You should not have had your music up so high that the car next to you knew what you were listening to. Your shirt was too tight becuase other men were looking and don't even think about the wine list. Although, it's OK if someone offers the table free drinks (that The Girl cannot drink because she is The Girl) because The Typical was important in the past life of being The Typical Ay-rab.
The Typical carries traits such as dominance, controlling, frustrates easy, doesn't like to be wrong, is always right, smart (even if he's not), thinks he knows what he is talking about when it comes to religion and being an Arab, thinks his experiences has taught him how to live, and thinks you will never find out. You're guts are going to have to be spilled because he expects it to be. He must know everything. You are not allowed to know nothing.
It's much more fun when you try to upset The Typical. Prove that they are wrong, that they aren't the dominant. For example, a conversation I had with one:
TG:"What do you think of girls and tattoos?"
TTA: "Do you have a tattoo?
TG: I asked you a question first, I would like for you to answer.
TTA: I'm not answering because you won't like my answer
TG: Why should I judge you if I asked YOU the question
TTA: Listen I don't care if you have a tattoo, I have a tattoo myself.
Another conversation I had with The Typical Ay-rab:
TG: ...and I bought a cookie. That was my day, how was yours?
TTA: "Where's your tattoo?"
TG: Did I ever say I had a tattoo?
TTA: No, but you asked the question
TG: If I ask a question, that doesn't imply I have one. What if I asked you about kids? Does that imply that I have or want any?
TTA: You don't have kids and of course you want some.
TG: Actually, no I do not. So, your theory of me having a tattoo is based on the assumption of my question that I asked you. You have yet to answer it.
TTA: Whatever
TG: I hate that word 'whatever'. Why do you get so frusturated with me when I'm just pointing someithing out?
TTA: I have to go.
End of conversation because he ran like a little bitch. One thing that you must do with The Typical Ay-rab is show him who is dominant. If he isn't willing to even answer ONE question now while you're in courting mode, what makes you think you can get anywhere in a real fight while you've already made the mistake?
The Mat is on a four hour Viagra high right now. Please check back when the black and blue and swelling have gone down.
Monday, December 7, 2009
YOU'VE DONE WELL FOR YOURSELF; WHO DID YOU MARRY?
I remember going to one of my friend's house for the first time after she married. Her mother was over. Her house was also quite large. Her mother gave me a tour and asked me "Don't you think (enter name here) has done well for herself?" As I nodded yes, I was thinking to myself, "What could she have possibly done to deserve this beautiful lifestyle?" The answer: you guessed it, she got married to a "comfortable" man. She lives in the epitamy of suburbia, in a cul de sac. Her house has more bathrooms than people that reside there and her floors are so expensive, it makes her Lexus look like the failing General Motors Corporation. Her furniture consists of modern style with a touch of ancestoric design. Her ethinicity is prevalant throughout the house. It is encased with relgious symbolism and nationalistic pride.
No, she is not Arab.
A few years later, I go to another friend's house. This one is Arab. Ironically enough, her mother also gives me a tour, with the one too many bathrooms and the polished flooring. Her furniture also looked modern with the design of a traditionalist. I was then asked the following question, "Don't you think (enter different name here) has done well for herself?" I gave the same nod and thought the same thing.
These women are two different cultures with similar backgrounds. They were both sheltered, and lacked the ambition to continue their education. They went because it was part of the process: grow up, go to school, get married to a "comfortable" man, be married. Now, if these girls did not finish school and do not work, how should I compliment how well they have done for themselves. They have done nothing. They married a man who was well endowed with money. Because his shit does not stink with his parents, his shit is covered with the scent of roses, also called money in reality.
You see, The Suitor has many barriers to achieve before attaining The Girl. He must prove to her Golddigging Miners (her parents) that The Girl will be taken care of. Meanwhile, SugarParents (his parents) are living dandy in suburbia because The Suitor is taking care of them. After all, SugarParents did raise him, and his shit doesn't stink. And he is not rich, he is "comfortable". We don't want to have Unimportant Acquaintances think he's full of himself. They don't know the difference anyways. Their heads are so far up their asses that when they think they find hair in their food that get caught in their mouth, it's really being picked from their scalp!
Now, here is the problem: SugarParents and Golddigging Miners are boasting about how well their children are doing. Little do they see the problem. Unimportant Acquaintances talk about how The Fools made The Mistake and had a lavish Debacle because The Suitor was able to afford it. What happens when The Fools make The Escape? The Girl is now a whore and she all of the sudden is back with the Golddigging Miners with 50% of The Suitor's money (God Bless America and it's quirky laws). The Girl is now left with nothing to show for her supposed success. She is now a nothing again. What's worse is that Unimportant Acquaintances now have something to talk about. Isn't that what they meant when they said to her, "Ukbal 3ndik" anyways?
Men seem to always have reprise after The Escape, they are the breadwinners. When you are an uneducated nobody to the Unimportant Acquainances, then you are nothing. You can't be saved. Someone popped you anyways. You are damaged goods.
The Suitor also has the upper hand. Isn't it great when he talks down to you and berates you because you are, in his eyes, dumber than he is? Isn't it also sweet when you walk barefoot on your expensive floors jealous because he had to work late, again, on a Saturday when he should be home with you? Of course it is, your floors cost more than your Lexus anyways. Silly girl, how naieve you are.
Get your effing education, dummies. It makes the rest of us look like Golddigging broads.
The Mat is encrusted in 25 Karat gold today because 24 Karats are just not enough.
No, she is not Arab.
A few years later, I go to another friend's house. This one is Arab. Ironically enough, her mother also gives me a tour, with the one too many bathrooms and the polished flooring. Her furniture also looked modern with the design of a traditionalist. I was then asked the following question, "Don't you think (enter different name here) has done well for herself?" I gave the same nod and thought the same thing.
These women are two different cultures with similar backgrounds. They were both sheltered, and lacked the ambition to continue their education. They went because it was part of the process: grow up, go to school, get married to a "comfortable" man, be married. Now, if these girls did not finish school and do not work, how should I compliment how well they have done for themselves. They have done nothing. They married a man who was well endowed with money. Because his shit does not stink with his parents, his shit is covered with the scent of roses, also called money in reality.
You see, The Suitor has many barriers to achieve before attaining The Girl. He must prove to her Golddigging Miners (her parents) that The Girl will be taken care of. Meanwhile, SugarParents (his parents) are living dandy in suburbia because The Suitor is taking care of them. After all, SugarParents did raise him, and his shit doesn't stink. And he is not rich, he is "comfortable". We don't want to have Unimportant Acquaintances think he's full of himself. They don't know the difference anyways. Their heads are so far up their asses that when they think they find hair in their food that get caught in their mouth, it's really being picked from their scalp!
Now, here is the problem: SugarParents and Golddigging Miners are boasting about how well their children are doing. Little do they see the problem. Unimportant Acquaintances talk about how The Fools made The Mistake and had a lavish Debacle because The Suitor was able to afford it. What happens when The Fools make The Escape? The Girl is now a whore and she all of the sudden is back with the Golddigging Miners with 50% of The Suitor's money (God Bless America and it's quirky laws). The Girl is now left with nothing to show for her supposed success. She is now a nothing again. What's worse is that Unimportant Acquaintances now have something to talk about. Isn't that what they meant when they said to her, "Ukbal 3ndik" anyways?
Men seem to always have reprise after The Escape, they are the breadwinners. When you are an uneducated nobody to the Unimportant Acquainances, then you are nothing. You can't be saved. Someone popped you anyways. You are damaged goods.
The Suitor also has the upper hand. Isn't it great when he talks down to you and berates you because you are, in his eyes, dumber than he is? Isn't it also sweet when you walk barefoot on your expensive floors jealous because he had to work late, again, on a Saturday when he should be home with you? Of course it is, your floors cost more than your Lexus anyways. Silly girl, how naieve you are.
Get your effing education, dummies. It makes the rest of us look like Golddigging broads.
The Mat is encrusted in 25 Karat gold today because 24 Karats are just not enough.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Other Religion: He's Not That Bad
There is more to a man than his dirty mind. Not all are dirty. Some are sensual, romantic, genuine, sweet, caring, and what other fantasies may exist in my mind. I've met them! It's just they were not capable enough of being The One for me. The Other Religion isn't just one type of man. Not all of them want to you to "learn" stick shift. Some actually hunger for you, the type that is unattainable.
As I am writing (ok, typing) this, deja vu occurs. Reason being that I have constantly had discussions about this particular topic with many folks. At my age, I'm looking for one that has a potential future with me included, vice versa. I would like to know that when we are courting, if you would like to call it that, I am not wasting my time and that there might be something there. I would like assurance that you may be The One, not another This One or That One. Although, I believe, feelings aren't rendered because you would like them to be. They exist because they just do. As much as I hate my future quoted statement, feelings "are what they are" and there is nothing you can do about it.
Say for instance you are a religion, for ease let's say Muslim, and you meet a great guy. He is fantastic. Conversations are lit and on fire, you see each others reactions and you are tantalized! You are excited! You are so happy to have met this man, and then religion pops up. You realize that he, a Christian, and you can get no farther than this conversation. But what if you can't help yourself thinking about this man? What are you to do? Absolutely nothing. You can't! There are more to a relationship than the two of you. In all honestly, the family exists between you two, the friends, the careers, the thoughts of Unimportant Acquaintances, and everyone else in between that will not wake up next to you every day but The One. Living with this person with some sort of contact with you becomes difficult. You really have no clue what to do!
Then, you get to trying to work something out. That is the problem, you try to work it out with The Other Religion. My theory is that if you have to hide your relationship, why even bother? What's the point? It's because everyone wants the unattainable. Have you ever seen ham on Thanksgiving? I know a lady that can make that piece of swine look like the most beautiful piece of meat on Earth! Every time I go over her house and she makes that ham, my mouth waters and I yearn for a bite! Yes, the Muslim would like a bit of ham! It looks great, and only because it's against the religion to have it! That is what The Other Religion is!
Some of you may think to yourself, "Well, that is the only type that is attracted to me. It's The Other Religion and I can't help it." I know, I know, if you knew me, you would understand that this is something I go through almost daily. What is it that holds you back? Besides religion, it's your family and those damned Nobodies (aka Unimportant Acquaintances). If you ever talked to those Unimportant Pricks (aka Nobodies aka Unimportant Acquaintances) and they surrendered the truth to you (ha!) they would probably admit to you that there was some sort of crush on Their Other Religion.
In this lust you carry yourself into, you must take a moment and step back. You must ponder (which is to my chagrin because I then realize my mistakes before I commit them) that it is just not going to work. He cannot be the one for you. Reason, how are you going to raise your children? If you are like me and don't care, have at it, but do not forget that you are also with the family of both you and him. Not only religion is the factor, you're the "kafra" on his side as well as yours. You are the one that stands out like a red mini skirt at a funeral for a Sheik. You, and (according to the Unimportant Pricks) and only you are going to Hell for committing such and act that you hold no shame for doing. It all falls on you, and if you are the man, well...the world revolves around you.
What I am trying to say is that I may stereotype men quite a bit here. I feel that I have good reason to, considering my past experiences. However, I would not encourage you to go forth with The Other Religion. Think of it this way, he is the ham and you are the saliva drooping out of your mouth for a piece of that ass (isn't that what ham is anyways). But, your virginity and morals and family and friends hold you back. Doesn't it suck? Why continue to do that to yourself daily when courting The Other Religion? Just think (as a Muslim) that the pig is a filthy animal and you want no part, no matter how many pineapple rings and cherries are decorated about on it's honey glazed skin.
Lucky mat, I yearn for your lack of moral and constant position.
As I am writing (ok, typing) this, deja vu occurs. Reason being that I have constantly had discussions about this particular topic with many folks. At my age, I'm looking for one that has a potential future with me included, vice versa. I would like to know that when we are courting, if you would like to call it that, I am not wasting my time and that there might be something there. I would like assurance that you may be The One, not another This One or That One. Although, I believe, feelings aren't rendered because you would like them to be. They exist because they just do. As much as I hate my future quoted statement, feelings "are what they are" and there is nothing you can do about it.
Say for instance you are a religion, for ease let's say Muslim, and you meet a great guy. He is fantastic. Conversations are lit and on fire, you see each others reactions and you are tantalized! You are excited! You are so happy to have met this man, and then religion pops up. You realize that he, a Christian, and you can get no farther than this conversation. But what if you can't help yourself thinking about this man? What are you to do? Absolutely nothing. You can't! There are more to a relationship than the two of you. In all honestly, the family exists between you two, the friends, the careers, the thoughts of Unimportant Acquaintances, and everyone else in between that will not wake up next to you every day but The One. Living with this person with some sort of contact with you becomes difficult. You really have no clue what to do!
Then, you get to trying to work something out. That is the problem, you try to work it out with The Other Religion. My theory is that if you have to hide your relationship, why even bother? What's the point? It's because everyone wants the unattainable. Have you ever seen ham on Thanksgiving? I know a lady that can make that piece of swine look like the most beautiful piece of meat on Earth! Every time I go over her house and she makes that ham, my mouth waters and I yearn for a bite! Yes, the Muslim would like a bit of ham! It looks great, and only because it's against the religion to have it! That is what The Other Religion is!
Some of you may think to yourself, "Well, that is the only type that is attracted to me. It's The Other Religion and I can't help it." I know, I know, if you knew me, you would understand that this is something I go through almost daily. What is it that holds you back? Besides religion, it's your family and those damned Nobodies (aka Unimportant Acquaintances). If you ever talked to those Unimportant Pricks (aka Nobodies aka Unimportant Acquaintances) and they surrendered the truth to you (ha!) they would probably admit to you that there was some sort of crush on Their Other Religion.
In this lust you carry yourself into, you must take a moment and step back. You must ponder (which is to my chagrin because I then realize my mistakes before I commit them) that it is just not going to work. He cannot be the one for you. Reason, how are you going to raise your children? If you are like me and don't care, have at it, but do not forget that you are also with the family of both you and him. Not only religion is the factor, you're the "kafra" on his side as well as yours. You are the one that stands out like a red mini skirt at a funeral for a Sheik. You, and (according to the Unimportant Pricks) and only you are going to Hell for committing such and act that you hold no shame for doing. It all falls on you, and if you are the man, well...the world revolves around you.
What I am trying to say is that I may stereotype men quite a bit here. I feel that I have good reason to, considering my past experiences. However, I would not encourage you to go forth with The Other Religion. Think of it this way, he is the ham and you are the saliva drooping out of your mouth for a piece of that ass (isn't that what ham is anyways). But, your virginity and morals and family and friends hold you back. Doesn't it suck? Why continue to do that to yourself daily when courting The Other Religion? Just think (as a Muslim) that the pig is a filthy animal and you want no part, no matter how many pineapple rings and cherries are decorated about on it's honey glazed skin.
Lucky mat, I yearn for your lack of moral and constant position.
Monday, November 30, 2009
The Other Religion
There is nothing like a handsome, dark, tall, husky, thick hair, wide eyed man to approach you and express some interest. OK, maybe not everyone has the same taste as me, but that's what I like, and I have no shame! Take a moment and think, think of the man that you would see yourself with. Think of your fantasy man. He's handsome, smart, stupid, ugly, short, tall, fat, skinny, whatever. Just think. This is your dream man. Now, this dream boy approaches you and talks to you and asks you questions and tells you all the good things a girl wants to hear.
Then, you see it. In my case, it's a cross. This dream boy has a cross hanging from his neck. He's one of them! He's The Other Religion! *GASP!* OH NO! You thought you met The One! Guess what! He's not because your parents will kick your ass from here to the territory of Hamas if you even thought about looking at this guy again!
Has anyone been swept of their feet by this guy? Isn't it depressing when it does happen? Doesn't it shoot your faith in finding The One to shit? Ladies and gentleman, if you say no, then:
1. You have never experienced The Other Religion
2. You are currently in a relationship with The Other Religion (FYI, one of you will get dumped)
3. You are 12 years old and have no business reading this blog
4. You're my mother
Now, if you have never experienced this, I recommend you try not to. Unless you like being hurt because one loves Jesus and the other loves Mohamed and you like to fool yourself thinking both families will except it, be my guest. However, it most likely won't work. Our culture will not allow women to "explore" other religions. It actually won't allow men to explore other religions, but being the stupid Arabs that we are, according to us, we are invincible and no one can touch us. Can't nobody hold us down, can't nobody take our pride, oh no! We got to keep on moving! Hey guess what Arabs, you're fucking idiots!
Go in a relationship with one, whether you're Christian or Muslim. I dare you. I guarantee you this: the guy, because men effing suck most of the time, will make an advance to you in which you will sit and contemplate your own moral value when this is brought up. What is the advance you ask? Touching the danger zones. What are the danger zones? The milkers (boobies) and the inserts (va-jay-jay) that God gave you! If you need more explanation, then you people need to take an anatomy class. I'm no where near a teacher/educator/professor. For some reason, The Other Religion (again, this could be either Christian, Muslim, or any other cult/belief/whatever you want it to be, so long as it is not your dysfunctional belief) will take it upon himself to constantly talk about sex. Sex this and sex that and I wanna do this to you and I wanna do that to you. After the handsome, intelligent man feeds you what you want to hear, the dirty boy comes out!
Here's what makes my case even more ridiculous than it sounds. The Other Religion is some sort of figure/believer in their deen (religion). This can be the guy that prays five times a day, or the one that is at every church picnic finding donations for the new cross to erect in the front of Sunday Service. This guy is The Guy To Go To when their organization is in need. What's even funnier is how he is so down low about it! SHHHHHH! Don't tell anyone about us, Shhhhh! My reputation is on the line! WTF! Fool! What about mine?!?! Moron! If you were so worried about it in the first place, why are you shutting me up now? Why did you even open your mouth and tell me all the bullshit a girl wants to hear? Fucking moron! Kuss im el yahood I say! It seems that The Other Religion's intent was to get tail!
So, why go to you? First, it's already enough to approach an Arab girl and "talk" (ha, yea right, just talk). You don't want to soil the preset notions that Unimportant Acquaintances have already established for you. Second, they don't feel bad when they approach Their Other Religion, because when it comes down to it (in the Arab culture) the men have a bit more power. They have the key to talk about a female's reputation. However unfortunate it is for us (females), Unimportant Acquaintances will look at the female and judge quickly. They haven't realized that THE GUY just said he slept with her or ate cookies with her or talked to her or whatever shit ruins reputations nowadays. They only heard the girl's name. Third, you can't try to pop a cherry of a girl that is the same as you! Oh NO! That's disrespectful! Their Other Religion can't marry me, so why not! When I get what I want, I can go and I don't have to marry the girl!
Yeah, I said it. The Other Religion is out to get you so he can try whatever dirtiness he can to put it in you. Then, when he does, out the door he goes. This explains why many Arabs go to the White Backups. Men "have needs" bullshit plays into effect here. The ones with the White Backups go to them for sexual solace, thinking they respect the Arab girls, and have their way. When their hornyness has been tired and rid, they become The Suitor. Ahhh, lucky Arab women. Is that burning you feel between your legs? Thank your husband. He was The Other Religion with the White Backup who got it from her ex boyfriend that was in jail and got that from a man named Bubsy. Nothing says I love you like a burning blister.
The only lucky mat here is the one that belongs to the White Backups. They don't have to end up marrying these dumb asses, unless they need a green card.
Then, you see it. In my case, it's a cross. This dream boy has a cross hanging from his neck. He's one of them! He's The Other Religion! *GASP!* OH NO! You thought you met The One! Guess what! He's not because your parents will kick your ass from here to the territory of Hamas if you even thought about looking at this guy again!
Has anyone been swept of their feet by this guy? Isn't it depressing when it does happen? Doesn't it shoot your faith in finding The One to shit? Ladies and gentleman, if you say no, then:
1. You have never experienced The Other Religion
2. You are currently in a relationship with The Other Religion (FYI, one of you will get dumped)
3. You are 12 years old and have no business reading this blog
4. You're my mother
Now, if you have never experienced this, I recommend you try not to. Unless you like being hurt because one loves Jesus and the other loves Mohamed and you like to fool yourself thinking both families will except it, be my guest. However, it most likely won't work. Our culture will not allow women to "explore" other religions. It actually won't allow men to explore other religions, but being the stupid Arabs that we are, according to us, we are invincible and no one can touch us. Can't nobody hold us down, can't nobody take our pride, oh no! We got to keep on moving! Hey guess what Arabs, you're fucking idiots!
Go in a relationship with one, whether you're Christian or Muslim. I dare you. I guarantee you this: the guy, because men effing suck most of the time, will make an advance to you in which you will sit and contemplate your own moral value when this is brought up. What is the advance you ask? Touching the danger zones. What are the danger zones? The milkers (boobies) and the inserts (va-jay-jay) that God gave you! If you need more explanation, then you people need to take an anatomy class. I'm no where near a teacher/educator/professor. For some reason, The Other Religion (again, this could be either Christian, Muslim, or any other cult/belief/whatever you want it to be, so long as it is not your dysfunctional belief) will take it upon himself to constantly talk about sex. Sex this and sex that and I wanna do this to you and I wanna do that to you. After the handsome, intelligent man feeds you what you want to hear, the dirty boy comes out!
Here's what makes my case even more ridiculous than it sounds. The Other Religion is some sort of figure/believer in their deen (religion). This can be the guy that prays five times a day, or the one that is at every church picnic finding donations for the new cross to erect in the front of Sunday Service. This guy is The Guy To Go To when their organization is in need. What's even funnier is how he is so down low about it! SHHHHHH! Don't tell anyone about us, Shhhhh! My reputation is on the line! WTF! Fool! What about mine?!?! Moron! If you were so worried about it in the first place, why are you shutting me up now? Why did you even open your mouth and tell me all the bullshit a girl wants to hear? Fucking moron! Kuss im el yahood I say! It seems that The Other Religion's intent was to get tail!
So, why go to you? First, it's already enough to approach an Arab girl and "talk" (ha, yea right, just talk). You don't want to soil the preset notions that Unimportant Acquaintances have already established for you. Second, they don't feel bad when they approach Their Other Religion, because when it comes down to it (in the Arab culture) the men have a bit more power. They have the key to talk about a female's reputation. However unfortunate it is for us (females), Unimportant Acquaintances will look at the female and judge quickly. They haven't realized that THE GUY just said he slept with her or ate cookies with her or talked to her or whatever shit ruins reputations nowadays. They only heard the girl's name. Third, you can't try to pop a cherry of a girl that is the same as you! Oh NO! That's disrespectful! Their Other Religion can't marry me, so why not! When I get what I want, I can go and I don't have to marry the girl!
Yeah, I said it. The Other Religion is out to get you so he can try whatever dirtiness he can to put it in you. Then, when he does, out the door he goes. This explains why many Arabs go to the White Backups. Men "have needs" bullshit plays into effect here. The ones with the White Backups go to them for sexual solace, thinking they respect the Arab girls, and have their way. When their hornyness has been tired and rid, they become The Suitor. Ahhh, lucky Arab women. Is that burning you feel between your legs? Thank your husband. He was The Other Religion with the White Backup who got it from her ex boyfriend that was in jail and got that from a man named Bubsy. Nothing says I love you like a burning blister.
The only lucky mat here is the one that belongs to the White Backups. They don't have to end up marrying these dumb asses, unless they need a green card.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
UKBAL 3NDIK (WISHING YOU YOUR TURN)
I find the Arabic phrase "Ukbal 3ndik" (paraphrase: wishing you your turn) to be utterly annoying. It is a great phrase to hear when one graduates college and it is said to you after you congratulate the new graduate on their achievement. It is a fantastic phrase to hear when you congratulate one on his/her new home. It is the most annoying phrase to hear at Debacles. At The Debacles, it is always followed by a "Why aren't you married yet?" which drives me b-a-n-a-n-a-s!
In 2008 alone, I was invited to 18 Debacles and managed to attend 14. Yes, I was broke that year because of all The Fools that created a hubub in The Debacle to celebrate the future The Mistake. Now, needless to say, some realized The Mistake was a mistake and took an oath of The Escape (divorce). The Escape will be a whole other blog one day. But today, let's focus on the "Ukbal 3ndik" (in fala7y (farmer) terms, "Uchbal 3ndich"). The Debacles in 2008 were not all Arab weddings, but most were. Being (at the time) 25, a hefty amount of Nobodies (aka: Unimportant Acquaintances) were quick to approach me with the "Why aren't you married yet?" and "You're not getting any younger" bullshit. That's always nice to hear. Thank you, Nobodies. I cannot find what it is that is wrong with me because I am not in The Mistake just yet. My response was that I was trying to set myself up, financially. I wanted to make sure my credit is good, there is money in my account, and all the drama is out of my life. Paraphrase to Arabs, I'm not ready yet. Apparently, I need not worry about all of that because my husband will take care of me and that there shouldn't be any drama in my life, anyways. I guess I missed the memo about living in a box until I make The Mistake or die.
Next, the questions begin with what I do for a living and where do I live and other nonsense that initiates the scouting of females for desperate Suitors unable to find The One on their own. Instead, Mommy goes and searches for what she wishes she was when she was my age and hopes for beautiful and smart babies to gloat about to other Unimportant Acquaintances (aka Nobodies, or other Arabs that like to gossip). After the whole, "I'm just not ready" response, Mommy seems to give me a look as if I have just deceived them! It is as if I had told them I was interested and then decided to change my thought and they feel deceived! The funny part is that I told them from the get-go!
The worst part of "Ukbal 3ndik" is when The Pushy Mom (guess, who's mom this is) spills out of her mouth like water in a fountain. This is then followed by a "I cannot wait until your (enter English work for Debacle here) and you have many (Monsters (children)) and I can't take care of them while you and (The One) go out!" Well thank you Pushy Mom for reminding me that I will need a Monster Tamer (babysitter) for my Monsters because I will eventually have no life because I made The Mistake. This is then followed by a, "Why aren't you married yet? I want to see you happy. You should be happy!" Seriously? You and other Unimportant Acquaintances are asking this stupid question as if I had leprosy and I am hiding it from the world (sometimes I wish I had it, it be a much more valid excuse to Nobodies).
I never knew that The Mistake would make someone complete, or happy. I always thought that one is at the happiest stage of life when The Escape takes place (you should see how happy some people get when the papers are finally signed, it's quite entertaining). It irritates me because "Ukbal 3ndik" really means, "You aren't happy, so get married and give me something to talk about to other Unimportant Acquaintances. And when I see you through a problem, I will not help you out, I will instead talk bad about you because I'm that kind of prick." This is what that shit really means.
It is now 2009, and I have attended about four weddings (much more money in my bank account...WHEW!). Some Unimportant Acquantaince told me "Ukbal 3ndik" with their, what seems to be scripted, followup questions quickly thereafter. My response, "Khalto, I am a lesbian. Mom didn't tell you?"
Ahhhh mat, you are so lucky with your careless life on your back.
In 2008 alone, I was invited to 18 Debacles and managed to attend 14. Yes, I was broke that year because of all The Fools that created a hubub in The Debacle to celebrate the future The Mistake. Now, needless to say, some realized The Mistake was a mistake and took an oath of The Escape (divorce). The Escape will be a whole other blog one day. But today, let's focus on the "Ukbal 3ndik" (in fala7y (farmer) terms, "Uchbal 3ndich"). The Debacles in 2008 were not all Arab weddings, but most were. Being (at the time) 25, a hefty amount of Nobodies (aka: Unimportant Acquaintances) were quick to approach me with the "Why aren't you married yet?" and "You're not getting any younger" bullshit. That's always nice to hear. Thank you, Nobodies. I cannot find what it is that is wrong with me because I am not in The Mistake just yet. My response was that I was trying to set myself up, financially. I wanted to make sure my credit is good, there is money in my account, and all the drama is out of my life. Paraphrase to Arabs, I'm not ready yet. Apparently, I need not worry about all of that because my husband will take care of me and that there shouldn't be any drama in my life, anyways. I guess I missed the memo about living in a box until I make The Mistake or die.
Next, the questions begin with what I do for a living and where do I live and other nonsense that initiates the scouting of females for desperate Suitors unable to find The One on their own. Instead, Mommy goes and searches for what she wishes she was when she was my age and hopes for beautiful and smart babies to gloat about to other Unimportant Acquaintances (aka Nobodies, or other Arabs that like to gossip). After the whole, "I'm just not ready" response, Mommy seems to give me a look as if I have just deceived them! It is as if I had told them I was interested and then decided to change my thought and they feel deceived! The funny part is that I told them from the get-go!
The worst part of "Ukbal 3ndik" is when The Pushy Mom (guess, who's mom this is) spills out of her mouth like water in a fountain. This is then followed by a "I cannot wait until your (enter English work for Debacle here) and you have many (Monsters (children)) and I can't take care of them while you and (The One) go out!" Well thank you Pushy Mom for reminding me that I will need a Monster Tamer (babysitter) for my Monsters because I will eventually have no life because I made The Mistake. This is then followed by a, "Why aren't you married yet? I want to see you happy. You should be happy!" Seriously? You and other Unimportant Acquaintances are asking this stupid question as if I had leprosy and I am hiding it from the world (sometimes I wish I had it, it be a much more valid excuse to Nobodies).
I never knew that The Mistake would make someone complete, or happy. I always thought that one is at the happiest stage of life when The Escape takes place (you should see how happy some people get when the papers are finally signed, it's quite entertaining). It irritates me because "Ukbal 3ndik" really means, "You aren't happy, so get married and give me something to talk about to other Unimportant Acquaintances. And when I see you through a problem, I will not help you out, I will instead talk bad about you because I'm that kind of prick." This is what that shit really means.
It is now 2009, and I have attended about four weddings (much more money in my bank account...WHEW!). Some Unimportant Acquantaince told me "Ukbal 3ndik" with their, what seems to be scripted, followup questions quickly thereafter. My response, "Khalto, I am a lesbian. Mom didn't tell you?"
Ahhhh mat, you are so lucky with your careless life on your back.
Friday, November 20, 2009
THE ARABLOUNGE EXPERIMENT
Have you ever tried the drudgery of online dating? Well, I have. Now, many of you may already have a preset notion that it sucks. Others may argue otherwise, claiming to have found The One on it, or in the process of it. My situation is not so fortunate! I have a devised some stories of my online escapade from ArabLounge.com.
The ArabLounge experiment
What I did was look for my options. I signed on, behind my mother's back (because in her eyes, she would believe that I was looking for husband, thus thinking that her goal of me getting married by December would come true). Yes, she implemented a goal. More like a deadline, but I like to call it a goal. It was my goal specifically to wait and NOT get married by December just out of sheer spite for her even mentioning that ludicrous timeline. Anyways, I told most of the men a fake name, and a fake life...meaning, I live alone in the city, I have a super amazing job and that's about the only lie I told them. My personality was no different and I did not upload a photo. However, if I seemed to have like a person, or didn't think anything shady of them within the first few minutes of our "chat", I would tell them the real truth, my name and the fact that I don't live alone. The results are as follows. Enjoy!
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The Stalker
The Stalker contacted me because he was "in love" with my profile, that lacked a picture. He claimed that I was hysterical. Well, he didn't use that word because I don't think he was quite the articulate kind. But, for those of us who know English, I used a synonym. The Stalker seemed nice. However, he was quite older than I, and had a child. Being a never married "girl", I wasn't ready to allow myself the extra baggage. Besides, women are already branded as crazy, and I have enough issues on my own to deal with. Either way, he was kind and a bit funny. Not too much. But, he tried and I give him credit for it. Well, I eventually lost interest with our chats because I knew I wasn't going to allow it to go further than online. I started receiving email messages wondering where I was, giving me his number, and eventually it led to, "WHERE ARE YOU?"! Yes, all in caps. The Stalker yelled at me via email. How nice. Needless to say, I became even more distant. I eventually wrote to The Stalker and told him that his inability to back off was quite scary. That was my first experience with the wonderful world of ArabLounge.com.
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The Christian
The Christian was a nice fellow. He was a stetson young fellow working for a good company in the city. He lived downtown, seeming to do well for himself. He was also new to the area. His point in case for ArabLounge was to meet new people (he really wanted to meet women considering he was a frequent flier of ArabLounge) and was doing so-so with that. Him and I were chatting for quite a bit. Honestly, I didn't tell him my real name or situation because I didn't feel that I could trust the man. What was ironic was that he trusted me with everything (or at least that is what it seemed like). The kicker was when he told me that he went on a date and thought of me throughout the whole date. I thought it was quite brazen of him to admit that and I admired him for that, although not enough to give him a phone number. After chatting with him, I looked a bit more closely at his profile and found that he was Christian. If you didn't see the news today, I'm Muslim. I became a bit frustrated with the fact that it stated on my profile that I was looking for a Muslim! When I eventually deleted the account, I failed to notify him of my departure. Well, at least Jesus loves The Christian.
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The Divorce'
This man was also 10 years my senior (The Stalker with the 12 year old was 10 years older than me. I failed to note both their ages of him and his child). He seemed very nice. He was Sweet, educated, had a sense of humor, and wit. However, his taste in music is accustomed to a man smack dab in the middle of a mid-life crisis, ridiculed of DJ Tiesto and other nonsense of noise that are pointless to my ears. I told him the fib of my life, living alone...blah blah blah. His response entailed that he was "cool" with it because it showed my independence and lack of need. I thought, "Very nice! This guy has an open mind."
Now, his name is strictly what it is, he is divorced. Let me clarify, I have nothing wrong with anyone that is divorced, and it is none of my business to why this man was divorced. We were not close enough to discuss it, plus I didn't want to damper our conversations with his past issues. I have never been divorced, but This One sure as hell made me think I was in one! I eventually told him the truth; my real name, my real job, and the fact that I lived with my mother (typical Arab unmarried girl). Let me state again, my personality was no different. His response, he was glad that I do not live alone. Girls shouldn't be living alone. It seems that someone is a bit on the contradictory side, fun future! After giving him more of the benefit of the doubt (because hypocrisy seemed to be prevalent with his personality after the I shouldn't be living alone comment), I gave The Divorce' my number and we began talking. He became upset of the fact that we did not speak daily. I simply didn't have the time for a conversation everyday. Those who know me, know that! Plus, I hate talking on the phone. Yes, a girl just said that she hated talking on the phone.
One day, he had sent a text, and I responded with a joke of the topic that he sent me. It was a very meaningless text. I don't remember what was said, that is how pointless it was to me. He then responded back with a phone call and few other people to back up his personality. One person began telling me (after handing the phone to this person) that The Divorce' was really a great guy and very trustworthy and handsome, etc. My eyes were practically bulging out and near the floor along with my jaw. Another person soon exclaimed to me how fantastic and helpful The Divorce' is and how I am a very lucky person to be talking to him! Now that's great and fantastic that Divorce' is capable of being a great man, but why the testimonies? Regardless, I apologized that he took whatever I said to heart and had to explain to him that I am a trustful person and that he gave me to reason not to trust him. We must also consider the notion that this was not really a relationship. These were just mere phone calls that lasted no longer than an hour.
We then decided to meet, or go on a date in the words of an American. Well, I was happy that I can actually meet this person and see what he was about. After a few more conversations, we began to talk about The Mistake (the mistake is the cause of The Debacle, aka Marriage). I ask why he spoke so much of The Mistake. He told me that it is one of his "to do's", as if it were on a checklist of some sort! I told him this, if you make it seem like a task, then it will be a task. He apparently didn't like that. Reason to why I know he didn't like that...he canceled our date the day of. FAIL Divorce', fail.
*******************************************
The Whitewash
The Whitewash was of Middle Eastern decent, who had no idea of where he was from. He thought our culture was devised of hummos, baba ghanoush, bellydancers, and hookah. He was completely oblivious to the fact that there was a language attached to the culture! He lacked any real interpretation of who he was because he was, in his eyes, white. I also went on a date with The Whitewash. In fact, I was honest with him from the get-go. He wasn't my type at all, in fact a bit too skinny for my liking, but seemed very laid back and Americanized. Little did I know how Americanized he was!
Our date consisted of a quaint Middle Eastern restaurant in the city. It is actually one of my favorite places. He was not dressed for the occasion. A white tee shirt (more like undershirt...Arab hillbilly), jeans, baseball cap, and gym shoes clearly expressed the lack of respect for a first date. It could have also been that he was that low maintenance. I, on the other hand came causal (slightly lifted up a notch) with a bit dressier shirt (which didn't belong under anything, it was a regular shirt), also known as the blouse. It was something nice, you get the point. Oh yeah! I wore heels and had makeup on. I don't always where too much makeup. On this day, I wore mascara! I only wear mascara to weddings! So yes, I took a bit extra care that day. Sorry for the digression, I tend to do that on occasion. As I was saying, we go to the restaurant and he orders an appetizer, of course it was hummos. He then decides to order the specialty wine (which was far better than my date). He then apologized for the fact that we are ordering wine to the owner! "Sorry to have Arabs do this, but can we have a glass of .....".
Really?!?!?!?!?!?! YOU FUCKNUT (thought in my head)
First, did they have to know that we were Arab? Second, did you NOT know that NOT all Arabs are Muslim? Third, SHUT THE FUCK UP! OMG!
After watching this creature eat, and having to continuously point out that he had something on the side of his mouth from the food (more than twice), the bill came. Yes, the wretched bill. As always, because I am not expecting him to pay for everything, I offered to pay. He accepted. I was not surprised. I'm a bit old school in that sense, a gentleman always pays and holds the door open and blah blah bullshit that I expect in a man. Although, it was kind of him to knock a few dollars off because I drove to the city (considering I don't live in the city, but the 'burbs are boring as hell and full of chain junk). Just in case you couldn't tell, the last sentence was sarcasm. We then went for coffee. The coffee escapade was quite the trip. He paid (thanks jag, very nice of you to dish out an extra $4 on shitty coffee) and then told me of his business plans. I told him my two cents, and he didn't like it. Needless to say, the no-phone call back to one another was a mutual feeling.
**************************************
The Hornball
The chat went as follows:
Hornball: "Hi"
Me: "Hi"
HB: "You horny?"
Me: (clicking the exit button)
HB opens window again:
HB: "You horny?"
Me: (wondering at this point if he got the message that I thought he was a douche. AL notifies you when someone closes their window) "I'm a transvestite and my dick is probably bigger than yours." (close window)
Never heard from him again.
SAVE!
********************************************
My Screw-up with the one that was Out of My League
For him to even have agreed to go out with me that day was quite interesting to me. It showed that handsome men see more than appearance. It was a breathe of fresh air. It was nice. I have a preset notion that good looking men are shallow.
Too make a long story short, I'll give you the juicy part. I did the biggest faux-paux that could have ever been done (actually there were two major fauxs). One of them consisted of me drinking more than I can handle. Can I just say that sangria is a silent effing killer! It's like the AIDS virus! You don't know that you have it until you have it! Well, then with a bit more peer pressure (this was a double date/meet), I had something else and that topped me off. Now, this was consistant throughout the night (the drinks) and eventually, I came to the part to where I told the guy he was (second faux paux) out of my league. However, I don't regret it. In fact, I thought he was.
I couldn't understand why it was me that he spoke with. I didn't get why he had taking a liking to me! I couldn't fathom it! In many ways, I end up feeling that I have a different personality online in comparison to actually meeting the person. I tend to be a bit more reserved in person. Online, I was witty and had the ability to hide behind my laptop and say whatever I wanted to say. He couldn't see me or do anything to me. The only thing he could have done was close his magical chat window. We get to meeting, and I froze. I was not the normal me. I was back in the box and shut it closed. The sangria opened it up slightly. Because of the sangria, the box had fell to the side and opened in a ditch of filthy waters.
If I could apologize, I would. In fact, I tried but I'm sure I scared him off. By the way, I'm really good at scaring people off. You will see. No worries, I am not perfect, in fact, I'm far from it (if you weren't able to tell by my horrible grammar already).
So this is to you Mr. You're Out of My League. I am sorry. I am sorry for hiding and allowing alcohol have me open up on the wrong side of the murky waters. I am sorry for having one too many sangrias (freaking silent killer, it's like effing venom!). I am also sorry for making you feel uncomfortable by telling you that you were out of my league. If I was in your situation, I would...well, I would tell me off and tell me how ridiculous I am.
However, you are very cute. I thought I should throw that in. In fact, your eyes mesmerize me. You are also very smart, funny, a gentleman, hospitable, and your vocabulary tantalized my mind because I didn't think Arab men had the ability to be articulate.
WHAT? I'm sure he'll never read this...and if he does, well then he does. That's life folks.
*********************************
See people, no one is perfect. In fact, I am far from it.
*********************************
From all this, what did I learn? I learned that white people are incognito in the form of Arabs, hornballs exist everywhere in all cultures (in fact, I knew this from before), Jesus lovers are attracted to what they cannot have, The Mistake is now on the "to do" list of life, and stalkers are much better when they don't know where you live. Also, I need to cool down with the lack of confidence. There is more that meets the eye. I'll admit, when one lacks confidence, it is a turn off. Although, so is over confidence. Really, conceited is the better terminology.
Not so lucky of a mat here.
The ArabLounge experiment
What I did was look for my options. I signed on, behind my mother's back (because in her eyes, she would believe that I was looking for husband, thus thinking that her goal of me getting married by December would come true). Yes, she implemented a goal. More like a deadline, but I like to call it a goal. It was my goal specifically to wait and NOT get married by December just out of sheer spite for her even mentioning that ludicrous timeline. Anyways, I told most of the men a fake name, and a fake life...meaning, I live alone in the city, I have a super amazing job and that's about the only lie I told them. My personality was no different and I did not upload a photo. However, if I seemed to have like a person, or didn't think anything shady of them within the first few minutes of our "chat", I would tell them the real truth, my name and the fact that I don't live alone. The results are as follows. Enjoy!
********************************************
The Stalker
The Stalker contacted me because he was "in love" with my profile, that lacked a picture. He claimed that I was hysterical. Well, he didn't use that word because I don't think he was quite the articulate kind. But, for those of us who know English, I used a synonym. The Stalker seemed nice. However, he was quite older than I, and had a child. Being a never married "girl", I wasn't ready to allow myself the extra baggage. Besides, women are already branded as crazy, and I have enough issues on my own to deal with. Either way, he was kind and a bit funny. Not too much. But, he tried and I give him credit for it. Well, I eventually lost interest with our chats because I knew I wasn't going to allow it to go further than online. I started receiving email messages wondering where I was, giving me his number, and eventually it led to, "WHERE ARE YOU?"! Yes, all in caps. The Stalker yelled at me via email. How nice. Needless to say, I became even more distant. I eventually wrote to The Stalker and told him that his inability to back off was quite scary. That was my first experience with the wonderful world of ArabLounge.com.
****************************************************
The Christian
The Christian was a nice fellow. He was a stetson young fellow working for a good company in the city. He lived downtown, seeming to do well for himself. He was also new to the area. His point in case for ArabLounge was to meet new people (he really wanted to meet women considering he was a frequent flier of ArabLounge) and was doing so-so with that. Him and I were chatting for quite a bit. Honestly, I didn't tell him my real name or situation because I didn't feel that I could trust the man. What was ironic was that he trusted me with everything (or at least that is what it seemed like). The kicker was when he told me that he went on a date and thought of me throughout the whole date. I thought it was quite brazen of him to admit that and I admired him for that, although not enough to give him a phone number. After chatting with him, I looked a bit more closely at his profile and found that he was Christian. If you didn't see the news today, I'm Muslim. I became a bit frustrated with the fact that it stated on my profile that I was looking for a Muslim! When I eventually deleted the account, I failed to notify him of my departure. Well, at least Jesus loves The Christian.
********************************************************
The Divorce'
This man was also 10 years my senior (The Stalker with the 12 year old was 10 years older than me. I failed to note both their ages of him and his child). He seemed very nice. He was Sweet, educated, had a sense of humor, and wit. However, his taste in music is accustomed to a man smack dab in the middle of a mid-life crisis, ridiculed of DJ Tiesto and other nonsense of noise that are pointless to my ears. I told him the fib of my life, living alone...blah blah blah. His response entailed that he was "cool" with it because it showed my independence and lack of need. I thought, "Very nice! This guy has an open mind."
Now, his name is strictly what it is, he is divorced. Let me clarify, I have nothing wrong with anyone that is divorced, and it is none of my business to why this man was divorced. We were not close enough to discuss it, plus I didn't want to damper our conversations with his past issues. I have never been divorced, but This One sure as hell made me think I was in one! I eventually told him the truth; my real name, my real job, and the fact that I lived with my mother (typical Arab unmarried girl). Let me state again, my personality was no different. His response, he was glad that I do not live alone. Girls shouldn't be living alone. It seems that someone is a bit on the contradictory side, fun future! After giving him more of the benefit of the doubt (because hypocrisy seemed to be prevalent with his personality after the I shouldn't be living alone comment), I gave The Divorce' my number and we began talking. He became upset of the fact that we did not speak daily. I simply didn't have the time for a conversation everyday. Those who know me, know that! Plus, I hate talking on the phone. Yes, a girl just said that she hated talking on the phone.
One day, he had sent a text, and I responded with a joke of the topic that he sent me. It was a very meaningless text. I don't remember what was said, that is how pointless it was to me. He then responded back with a phone call and few other people to back up his personality. One person began telling me (after handing the phone to this person) that The Divorce' was really a great guy and very trustworthy and handsome, etc. My eyes were practically bulging out and near the floor along with my jaw. Another person soon exclaimed to me how fantastic and helpful The Divorce' is and how I am a very lucky person to be talking to him! Now that's great and fantastic that Divorce' is capable of being a great man, but why the testimonies? Regardless, I apologized that he took whatever I said to heart and had to explain to him that I am a trustful person and that he gave me to reason not to trust him. We must also consider the notion that this was not really a relationship. These were just mere phone calls that lasted no longer than an hour.
We then decided to meet, or go on a date in the words of an American. Well, I was happy that I can actually meet this person and see what he was about. After a few more conversations, we began to talk about The Mistake (the mistake is the cause of The Debacle, aka Marriage). I ask why he spoke so much of The Mistake. He told me that it is one of his "to do's", as if it were on a checklist of some sort! I told him this, if you make it seem like a task, then it will be a task. He apparently didn't like that. Reason to why I know he didn't like that...he canceled our date the day of. FAIL Divorce', fail.
*******************************************
The Whitewash
The Whitewash was of Middle Eastern decent, who had no idea of where he was from. He thought our culture was devised of hummos, baba ghanoush, bellydancers, and hookah. He was completely oblivious to the fact that there was a language attached to the culture! He lacked any real interpretation of who he was because he was, in his eyes, white. I also went on a date with The Whitewash. In fact, I was honest with him from the get-go. He wasn't my type at all, in fact a bit too skinny for my liking, but seemed very laid back and Americanized. Little did I know how Americanized he was!
Our date consisted of a quaint Middle Eastern restaurant in the city. It is actually one of my favorite places. He was not dressed for the occasion. A white tee shirt (more like undershirt...Arab hillbilly), jeans, baseball cap, and gym shoes clearly expressed the lack of respect for a first date. It could have also been that he was that low maintenance. I, on the other hand came causal (slightly lifted up a notch) with a bit dressier shirt (which didn't belong under anything, it was a regular shirt), also known as the blouse. It was something nice, you get the point. Oh yeah! I wore heels and had makeup on. I don't always where too much makeup. On this day, I wore mascara! I only wear mascara to weddings! So yes, I took a bit extra care that day. Sorry for the digression, I tend to do that on occasion. As I was saying, we go to the restaurant and he orders an appetizer, of course it was hummos. He then decides to order the specialty wine (which was far better than my date). He then apologized for the fact that we are ordering wine to the owner! "Sorry to have Arabs do this, but can we have a glass of .....".
Really?!?!?!?!?!?! YOU FUCKNUT (thought in my head)
First, did they have to know that we were Arab? Second, did you NOT know that NOT all Arabs are Muslim? Third, SHUT THE FUCK UP! OMG!
After watching this creature eat, and having to continuously point out that he had something on the side of his mouth from the food (more than twice), the bill came. Yes, the wretched bill. As always, because I am not expecting him to pay for everything, I offered to pay. He accepted. I was not surprised. I'm a bit old school in that sense, a gentleman always pays and holds the door open and blah blah bullshit that I expect in a man. Although, it was kind of him to knock a few dollars off because I drove to the city (considering I don't live in the city, but the 'burbs are boring as hell and full of chain junk). Just in case you couldn't tell, the last sentence was sarcasm. We then went for coffee. The coffee escapade was quite the trip. He paid (thanks jag, very nice of you to dish out an extra $4 on shitty coffee) and then told me of his business plans. I told him my two cents, and he didn't like it. Needless to say, the no-phone call back to one another was a mutual feeling.
**************************************
The Hornball
The chat went as follows:
Hornball: "Hi"
Me: "Hi"
HB: "You horny?"
Me: (clicking the exit button)
HB opens window again:
HB: "You horny?"
Me: (wondering at this point if he got the message that I thought he was a douche. AL notifies you when someone closes their window) "I'm a transvestite and my dick is probably bigger than yours." (close window)
Never heard from him again.
SAVE!
********************************************
My Screw-up with the one that was Out of My League
For him to even have agreed to go out with me that day was quite interesting to me. It showed that handsome men see more than appearance. It was a breathe of fresh air. It was nice. I have a preset notion that good looking men are shallow.
Too make a long story short, I'll give you the juicy part. I did the biggest faux-paux that could have ever been done (actually there were two major fauxs). One of them consisted of me drinking more than I can handle. Can I just say that sangria is a silent effing killer! It's like the AIDS virus! You don't know that you have it until you have it! Well, then with a bit more peer pressure (this was a double date/meet), I had something else and that topped me off. Now, this was consistant throughout the night (the drinks) and eventually, I came to the part to where I told the guy he was (second faux paux) out of my league. However, I don't regret it. In fact, I thought he was.
I couldn't understand why it was me that he spoke with. I didn't get why he had taking a liking to me! I couldn't fathom it! In many ways, I end up feeling that I have a different personality online in comparison to actually meeting the person. I tend to be a bit more reserved in person. Online, I was witty and had the ability to hide behind my laptop and say whatever I wanted to say. He couldn't see me or do anything to me. The only thing he could have done was close his magical chat window. We get to meeting, and I froze. I was not the normal me. I was back in the box and shut it closed. The sangria opened it up slightly. Because of the sangria, the box had fell to the side and opened in a ditch of filthy waters.
If I could apologize, I would. In fact, I tried but I'm sure I scared him off. By the way, I'm really good at scaring people off. You will see. No worries, I am not perfect, in fact, I'm far from it (if you weren't able to tell by my horrible grammar already).
So this is to you Mr. You're Out of My League. I am sorry. I am sorry for hiding and allowing alcohol have me open up on the wrong side of the murky waters. I am sorry for having one too many sangrias (freaking silent killer, it's like effing venom!). I am also sorry for making you feel uncomfortable by telling you that you were out of my league. If I was in your situation, I would...well, I would tell me off and tell me how ridiculous I am.
However, you are very cute. I thought I should throw that in. In fact, your eyes mesmerize me. You are also very smart, funny, a gentleman, hospitable, and your vocabulary tantalized my mind because I didn't think Arab men had the ability to be articulate.
WHAT? I'm sure he'll never read this...and if he does, well then he does. That's life folks.
*********************************
See people, no one is perfect. In fact, I am far from it.
*********************************
From all this, what did I learn? I learned that white people are incognito in the form of Arabs, hornballs exist everywhere in all cultures (in fact, I knew this from before), Jesus lovers are attracted to what they cannot have, The Mistake is now on the "to do" list of life, and stalkers are much better when they don't know where you live. Also, I need to cool down with the lack of confidence. There is more that meets the eye. I'll admit, when one lacks confidence, it is a turn off. Although, so is over confidence. Really, conceited is the better terminology.
Not so lucky of a mat here.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
THE SETTLING SUITOR
The Suitor is the guy The Girl wants to avoid. The Suitor is the guy who's getting married to settle. The Suitor really has no clue to what he wants. He wants to find a wife, settle, please mommy and daddy, and continue with life as usual. The exception to the rule is the wife and the fact that bachelorhood is over. No more late nights, no more boozin', clubbin', dates with hot chicks from the bar, or random trips with the boys to Vegas; done. Over. No mas.
Why does The Girl need to avoid The Suitor that wants to settle? Well, because he wants to settle. That is it. The courtship is pretty traditional to The Settler (aka The Suitor). The Suitor has no idea that The Girl is somewhat a good human being. He sees her more as the person that will please his parents because he married her. No matter what, his parents see The Girl as the completion of The Suitor.
The Girl, who is oblivious to this, does not think that this is what The Suitor is looking for. That is, he is looking to settle. The Girl thinks that all his kind gestures to win her naive heart is a display of affection and a growing love that they will obtain at some point of their lives (and possibly lose). The Girl is planning parties to display her Suitor/Settler with a mirage of pre-wedding parties and The actual Debacle called The Wedding itself. Yes, The Debacle. She then has the talk about what to do after the wedding, the having sex part. The part where The Girl becomes The Woman.
It is The Debacle, The Wedding. It is a raunchy display of a potential divorce waiting to happen (at least a six out of ten chance in the U.S.). It is gaudy and pointless. I say, when my time comes, that we sign the papers that the leader of the cult/religion/whatever you call it says that shows God that we are in it for good and have sex till both our danger zones become black and blue. But noooooooo! Mommy and Daddy live miserably together, so we have to wait until the stupid white dress (that will soon become red after some little shit spills juice on it) is worn and taken off by The Suitor and The Suitor alone. And why would a virgin have sex with the dress on perverts? No, it would not become red from her vagina. Geez.
So, how does The Girl and The Suitor get to know one another without the sex? They don't. Instead, they feed each other a bunch of bullshit that makes both their dysfunctional lives look normal.
The Suitor: I graduated at BLAH BLAH BLAH with a BLAH in BLAH.
The Girl: Wow! I always wanted to do that. Instead, I graduated at BLAH BLAH BLAH with a BLAH in BLAH. I love BLAH BLAH BLAH'ing because I do it so well.
TS: Well I love to BLAH BLAH BLAH'ing, also! We're perfect for each other
Then when The Debacle is said and done for and becomes this:
TG: Where are you going? We had plans with unimportant acquaintances that we must show that we are happy to!
TS: I am going to BLAH BLAH BLAH
TG: You're probably cheating on me!
TS: I think you and (some friend met at the wedding because he crashed looking to settle with another Girl) are doing something!
My question is this: What happened to falling in love with a person who has respect for you, your ideals, your personality, and your quirks? What happened to love and lust at the same time? Why is settling such a trend now? Why am I even worried about this? Well, I have the answer to the last question. It's because I'm in my, what is now, late twenties and I'm a virgin waiting for The Debacle to occur so that my Settler and I are both black and blue once The Debacle is over.
However, I chose to date and meet people on my own (or maybe through the help of sites, shutup) and see where personality can take me. It turns out, The Suitor is incognito online. Freakin' invading my space in cyber hell. I'm screwed, and not the black and blue kind.
I still envy the lucky mat.
Why does The Girl need to avoid The Suitor that wants to settle? Well, because he wants to settle. That is it. The courtship is pretty traditional to The Settler (aka The Suitor). The Suitor has no idea that The Girl is somewhat a good human being. He sees her more as the person that will please his parents because he married her. No matter what, his parents see The Girl as the completion of The Suitor.
The Girl, who is oblivious to this, does not think that this is what The Suitor is looking for. That is, he is looking to settle. The Girl thinks that all his kind gestures to win her naive heart is a display of affection and a growing love that they will obtain at some point of their lives (and possibly lose). The Girl is planning parties to display her Suitor/Settler with a mirage of pre-wedding parties and The actual Debacle called The Wedding itself. Yes, The Debacle. She then has the talk about what to do after the wedding, the having sex part. The part where The Girl becomes The Woman.
It is The Debacle, The Wedding. It is a raunchy display of a potential divorce waiting to happen (at least a six out of ten chance in the U.S.). It is gaudy and pointless. I say, when my time comes, that we sign the papers that the leader of the cult/religion/whatever you call it says that shows God that we are in it for good and have sex till both our danger zones become black and blue. But noooooooo! Mommy and Daddy live miserably together, so we have to wait until the stupid white dress (that will soon become red after some little shit spills juice on it) is worn and taken off by The Suitor and The Suitor alone. And why would a virgin have sex with the dress on perverts? No, it would not become red from her vagina. Geez.
So, how does The Girl and The Suitor get to know one another without the sex? They don't. Instead, they feed each other a bunch of bullshit that makes both their dysfunctional lives look normal.
The Suitor: I graduated at BLAH BLAH BLAH with a BLAH in BLAH.
The Girl: Wow! I always wanted to do that. Instead, I graduated at BLAH BLAH BLAH with a BLAH in BLAH. I love BLAH BLAH BLAH'ing because I do it so well.
TS: Well I love to BLAH BLAH BLAH'ing, also! We're perfect for each other
Then when The Debacle is said and done for and becomes this:
TG: Where are you going? We had plans with unimportant acquaintances that we must show that we are happy to!
TS: I am going to BLAH BLAH BLAH
TG: You're probably cheating on me!
TS: I think you and
My question is this: What happened to falling in love with a person who has respect for you, your ideals, your personality, and your quirks? What happened to love and lust at the same time? Why is settling such a trend now? Why am I even worried about this? Well, I have the answer to the last question. It's because I'm in my, what is now, late twenties and I'm a virgin waiting for The Debacle to occur so that my Settler and I are both black and blue once The Debacle is over.
However, I chose to date and meet people on my own (or maybe through the help of sites, shutup) and see where personality can take me. It turns out, The Suitor is incognito online. Freakin' invading my space in cyber hell. I'm screwed, and not the black and blue kind.
I still envy the lucky mat.
THIS ONE
Let's start with This One. This One, I thought at the time, was The One. This One did weird things for me. He went to plays with me, he went out to eat with me, he talked to me endlessly on the phone, he told me his problems, he had me help him with his problems, he introduced me to his family, he met my family, and he was (at the time) The One. It was the plays. What man in his twenties volunteers himself to go to plays? OK, rephrase, what straight man volunteers himself to go to plays? This One did! This One knew that I had to go for class, and came with me! WHAT?!? I KNOW! I found a keeper! WOOHOO!
This One had a sense of humor. He made me laugh, and I made him laugh, which then made him jealous because I was funnier. However, he liked that. Huh? I don't know either. I showed him how to be more ambitious, and he showed me a bit more of my religion. Then shit hit the fan. I started being a bit more religious again because of This One. He was subconsciously teaching me ideals of Islam, then he would go gamble. Yes, a bit ironic. However, I thought to myself, This One is bringing me into his world. This One is going to make me a better person. This One is showing me NO AFFECTION whatsoever because he respects me! WOW! This One is The One! (Note: No affection means "No Affection". No hugs, no pecks on the cheek, no handshakes, no nothing. NO AFFECTION)
This One then stopped calling. This One did not give me a reason to why. He just stopped. I called a couple of times to try to figure out where I went wrong! ME! I CALLED THIS FOOL! (Yes, I yell quite a bit. In person, I am a bit on the animated side, also) This One gave no explanation. Then one day, he called and I answered. Yes I did. (SIGH) I thought he was The One because he came back. Fate had brought me back!
Well after This One played this game of calling and not calling months at a time, it was time that our three year stint should have come to an end. The relationship (or lack there of) was not the same. I trusted him less. I thought his religious take on life was a crock of shit, realizing that he loved Vegas and the boat a bit more than God himself.
I almost forgot the best part, the cheating part. Yes, I was the Other Woman. The One was not This One. This One has now realized that lies have short legs and you cannot get anywhere with a six foot torso with a three inch leg (no I'm not talking about a penis. Considering after he cheated and lied, it was probably an inch or so anyways). Oh yes, the courting of Other Women. It's really not fun to be the Other Woman to This One's Women and be This One's Other Woman to Other Women. It actually sucks. I thank This One for making me realize that I cannot really trust many folks now because of it. Not only I, the Other Woman, didn't know what he was up to. Other Women and This One's Woman had no reason to think anything was going on! How could I know? He was like Houdini with a disappearing act that I kept accepting!
Well, This One is now living happily whipped ever after with his life. I'm sure that he enjoys every minute being wrapped around a finger of a woman who probably lied to him just like he lied to This One's Woman, Other Women, and the Other Woman (which is me if you haven't gotten it by now).
This One, I thank you for not falling even harder in love with you. I thank whatever spirit is out there that you didn't take my cherries. Because if you did, it would probably dissolve in the cheap ass vodka that your ass is afraid to drink at the poker table because it is against the religion to drink.
Three years vested in a no affection relationship. If you're wondering where the losing the virginity part is in this story, it doesn't exist. Just in case you couldn't pick that up from the NO AFFECTION.
Lucky mat.
This One had a sense of humor. He made me laugh, and I made him laugh, which then made him jealous because I was funnier. However, he liked that. Huh? I don't know either. I showed him how to be more ambitious, and he showed me a bit more of my religion. Then shit hit the fan. I started being a bit more religious again because of This One. He was subconsciously teaching me ideals of Islam, then he would go gamble. Yes, a bit ironic. However, I thought to myself, This One is bringing me into his world. This One is going to make me a better person. This One is showing me NO AFFECTION whatsoever because he respects me! WOW! This One is The One! (Note: No affection means "No Affection". No hugs, no pecks on the cheek, no handshakes, no nothing. NO AFFECTION)
This One then stopped calling. This One did not give me a reason to why. He just stopped. I called a couple of times to try to figure out where I went wrong! ME! I CALLED THIS FOOL! (Yes, I yell quite a bit. In person, I am a bit on the animated side, also) This One gave no explanation. Then one day, he called and I answered. Yes I did. (SIGH) I thought he was The One because he came back. Fate had brought me back!
Well after This One played this game of calling and not calling months at a time, it was time that our three year stint should have come to an end. The relationship (or lack there of) was not the same. I trusted him less. I thought his religious take on life was a crock of shit, realizing that he loved Vegas and the boat a bit more than God himself.
I almost forgot the best part, the cheating part. Yes, I was the Other Woman. The One was not This One. This One has now realized that lies have short legs and you cannot get anywhere with a six foot torso with a three inch leg (no I'm not talking about a penis. Considering after he cheated and lied, it was probably an inch or so anyways). Oh yes, the courting of Other Women. It's really not fun to be the Other Woman to This One's Women and be This One's Other Woman to Other Women. It actually sucks. I thank This One for making me realize that I cannot really trust many folks now because of it. Not only I, the Other Woman, didn't know what he was up to. Other Women and This One's Woman had no reason to think anything was going on! How could I know? He was like Houdini with a disappearing act that I kept accepting!
Well, This One is now living happily whipped ever after with his life. I'm sure that he enjoys every minute being wrapped around a finger of a woman who probably lied to him just like he lied to This One's Woman, Other Women, and the Other Woman (which is me if you haven't gotten it by now).
This One, I thank you for not falling even harder in love with you. I thank whatever spirit is out there that you didn't take my cherries. Because if you did, it would probably dissolve in the cheap ass vodka that your ass is afraid to drink at the poker table because it is against the religion to drink.
Three years vested in a no affection relationship. If you're wondering where the losing the virginity part is in this story, it doesn't exist. Just in case you couldn't pick that up from the NO AFFECTION.
Lucky mat.
WHEN ON RIDE, PLEASE BE SURE NOT TO POP A THING
I am a 26 year old, outspoken, extrovert, educated, a professional, cultured, and a virgin. I am a virgin. How many 26 year old single women in Chicago can say that? Not very many. I like to call myself "moral" because of it, but it really has nothing to do with morals anymore. It is all personal. It was religion, and now it is not.
Being an Arab and Muslim is pretty hard nowadays. I used to have fear instilled in me every day from my family. Don't do this because fury fires will burn your vagina off, or something crazy like that will be told to me if I were to do something close to THINKING about sex. However, it is everywhere. Welcome to my world of horny cornucopia folks. Nothing but people injecting body parts into one another like heroin and not being part of the fun! BOOOO!
So, you may ask yourself, why are you 26 and a virgin? Well, again, I'm Muslim. It was instilled in my head that boys and sex are wrong. Then I grew up and found that it really isn't that bad. No, foreplay didn't give me that sense of thought. It was that the Arab society made everything seem so much worse than it already was. It became a religious standpoint when I was a teenager. Walking in high school, I would see pregnant teenagers and think to myself, "Wow, I'm not foolish like these girls because I'm good to God." After junior year, I sort of lost faith. It then became an issue of finding "The One".
The One is going to take to me to far away lands with flowers and cookies and kites and kiss me here and there and love me forever and ever. The One is going to be exactly what his name is, The One for me. The One is going to have my heart and soul. He is going to have every piece of me, including yes, my virginity. Well, you will learn that after This One, I realized that The One may not exist, but it doesn't hurt finding him. God really is not the reason anymore, nor is it the ridiculous tightly bound Arab culture in Chicago. It is the fear of me giving my grenadine to a dude that will no longer be in my life and the endless regret I will have thereafter. Yes, I called my virginity grenadine. I also have a sense of humor.
The welcome mat is currently laid on the floor for you. It is, by far, the only thing that gets more action then me. Considering that it is on its back 24 hours a day. So come on in and take a ride, just be sure not to pop anything on the way in. Stupid mat, I'm jealous of you. Lucky mat.
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