The other day I was invited to a party by a guy whom I consider to be a "friend" sans plus. I say- sans plus- because even though J. is a nice guy, I find him totally boring...
I mean, thoroughly boring. Beyond hope boring...
J. is not interested in anything. Try talking politics to him and he changes subjects.
Talk Iraq, Palestine, the U.S, Globalization...and he goes hmmm and says "yalla ma'alech" (it's ok) and diverts the topic to something else...to something as boring as him.
J.considers himself not only apolitical but also non-religious, so discussing religion and philosophy are out too...
J. hates reading anything. Am not talking about books or the daily newspaper , even a simple brochure is too much headache for him...So obviously talking about anything related to writing or the printed word is out as well...
J. hates watching the news, and his TV watching revolves around action films...And check this out, one of his favorite actors is Bruce Willis. So agreeing on a film to go to at the movies is also out of the question.
But I do occasionally accept J's invitations, because I do feel guilty, he is a nice guy after all. I mean, he is friendly and is willing to be of help should I need anything and I know he has a soft spot for me. But as for the rest - forget it.
The only thing J. can talk about is his job. He works in a precision job that necessitates great concentration and meticulousness...He is an accountant.
So he talks about that. Accounting. Oh God!
I mean, once you get past the adding up and substractions, the sub-totals and net totals, and the revenues and profits, what is there to talk about ?
By the way, accountants are known to be quite boring...and anal.
I remember on one occasion, I had to sit through one of those tedious evenings with him, and I felt the corner of my eye get wet. I honestly felt a tear forming in the corner of my eye...a tear of boredom.
So when he invited me to this party at his friend's house, I did not refuse. After all there will be other people around and surely this would diffuse any potential stale, stagnant, moments of pure boredom...
So, J. picked me up and off we went to his friend's party.
It was no huge party, about 15 or so gathered around a long dining table, a table covered with hors d'oeuvres, beer, wine and nuts...
Some nice dancing Arabic music was blasting away and the party atmosphere was in the making...
There were a few married couples, one could tell they looked married. They looked rather empty and desperate.
Then there was one newly wed couple glued to one another. And there was a potential couple flirting away and looked very excited at some prospect...
There were a couple of single women referred to as "girls" even though they were in their late 30's and 40's and a couple of single guys. And I and my boring chaperon.
Everyone was still stuck up. People do tend to be stuck up in this country. They must all be some sort of accountants.
The married couples talked to each other. The men suck on their proverbial cigars and the women exchanged tips about the kids...
The newly wed couple were telling one of the single "girls" about their honeymoon...As usual, the woman was more excited about that episode than her husband who found it to be a waste of money.
He did not say so, but he kept repeating it was too damn expensive for what it was worth.
As for the couple in the making, I noticed the woman was drinking way too quickly, as if to catch up with her lover to be, and understand his jokes.
She would stop, listen, and then tilt her head back in a fake laughter, but always a wee bit late which drove me to the conclusion that she understood fuck all of his humor...Maybe because he had none.
So that left me and Mr.Boredom and the other singles talking...
The subject turned towards female beauty. This is how it usually starts.
Someone, usually a woman would evoke the name of some famous singer or actress and the men would comment on her beauty with a kind of a mental yardstick from 1 to 10.
So a few names were dropped, names of singers considered very pretty or sexy...The fact that most of them had extensive plastic surgery did not seem to matter in the new definitions of imported beauty.
And of course, the conversation took another turn in what has become the most predictable cliché ever. That of, the classical "after all it's the beauty of the soul that really matters..."
Clearly none believes that deep down, especially not after having spent an hour talking about boobs, lips, hair, legs, butts and yardsticks for comparisons and evaluations. Clearly that was a cliché to sound politically correct. And clearly it was bullshit.
Then one of the single guys trying hard to come across as enlightened and sensitive said "Beauty is not everything. I like to get to know the woman first. Like, talk to her for half an hour or so and see if there is an osmosis or not..."
The single girls were listening with great intent, forwarding their bodies across the table to catch our "sensitive" single man...
Having heard that, I just cracked up laughing so hard, with one of my loud HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH's.
He stopped short and said to me with an irritated voice
"Did I say something that funny?" to which I replied...
"Give me half an hour and I will tell you."
Then the host, came over towards the single "girls" and "sensitive" guy and put his hands on his shoulders in a great sign of affection and invited them to dance, as he played the latest from Haifa Wehbeh, the Lebanese siliconized, botoxed, pumped up, plastically remade,singer...
I lit up another cigarette and laughed some more, with another loud HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
J. being the tedious nice guy, as flat as a can of coke, did not get it. But Haifa Wehbeh's song seemed to have tickled a few of his nerves, as he jumped up off his seat and tried a few dancing steps...with an "Oh yes!"
I left the party, having learnt what I always knew, it is so easy to rule the Arab masses. It is so easy to rule Arab men. Ask some lebanese singer.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
