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.
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