I really have to write about this date I had a few days ago.
"Date" here, in this part of the world, does not have the same meaning as in the U.S.
Actually in Europe apart from contaminated Great Britain, there is no equivalent word for dating...I always found that quite interesting. The French call it a "rendez-vous" adding sometimes, the adjective "amoureux",always hoping that things will turn out -- amorously, yours.
And here, we have absolutely no equivalent word for dating in Arabic even though we have over 99 synonyms of the verb "to love"
I suppose a date for me is when I am introduced to some guy through relatively "kosher" channels and I agree to meet him alone for a drink...without seeking "permission" from the elders...And this is my WAY at 40+. About fucking time too.
Anyways, I really have to get this out of my system, because it has remained like a bitter taste in my mouth, bitter enough to make me gag at the thought of it.
This friend called me and said that X saw me at some gathering - I am not sure if it was a funeral or a wedding...does not matter, and that he really wanted to meet me again.
I can't remember any X. at a funeral or wedding party. I suppose am too involved in my inner world to pay any attention .
It turns out that this X, late 40's, has lived nearly of all his life in England and has finally settled here, because he "missed home". Divorced and looking...
I accepted to meet him. We agreed on a small, not too crowded café.
I went with no expectations, hoping to be pleasantly surprised. When there are no expectations, every positive trait become a bonus.
I made sure to keep my appearance sober and simple. Nothing too fancy. A pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I didn't want him to get ideas...
I was not particularly elated nor anxious, so that meant I was holding my grounds. Good sign, I thought to myself.
When I saw him, I remembered who he was. I had vaguely noticed him at L's wedding party not too long ago, but thought nothing of it/him.
He was quite attractive, had this clean crispy look to him, well trimmed nails and thank God, no white socks. He also greeted me warmly and had a nice smile. I thought to myself "now that's refreshing."
So we talked - generalities.
Then he asked me - " Have you been married before? "
- Yes, was...
- How long ago have you been divorced ?
- Several years.
- Anyone else since ?
- What do you mean, anyone else since ?
- Have you had boyfriends since your divorce
- I am in my 40's and have been divorced for over 10 years...
- How many boyfriends ?
At that point I got a hot flush. No, not the peri-menopause hot flush.
This one started at the sole of my feet and engulfed my toes, spread to my ankles and calves, settling in my knees ... It was my preparing myself to kick him real hard under the table, right in his balls.
But being the "nice, polite Arab girl" , I decided to play it in a different manner.
- How many boyfriends ? Oh my goodness, I can't remember, had so many of them, I lost count...
And I comfortably reclined in my chair and observed his facial expression...
To my utter delight he nearly choked on his coffee. He coughed and coughed and I just smiled.
The gall ! Here was a guy who lived all of his life in England, probably fucked half of the UK and comes and asks a woman in her 40's if she had any boyfriends since her divorce and on a first date! What was he expecting me to say?
"Of course I've had no boyfriends. I have been frozen in time for over 10 years, hoping to grow a new hymen just for you." ?!
Had I told him, I had one or 100 boyfriends it would have not made a difference.
I understood from his question and the tone of his voice, that this guy was of the all too common kind, driven by a the all too common fantasy, secretly and not so-secretly shared by many Arab men, whatever their religion -- that of the eternally virgin woman.
I am so acutely aware of the way this male psyche works that I can describe it to you in the most of tedious details and reveal to you what the exact fantasy is all about.
The fantasy is about possessing a woman who is all experienced and at the same time all virgin. Go figure now.
I can affirm to you, with all confidence, that if Arab men had their ways, ways that defy the laws of nature and of "God", they would re-create a married/divorced woman who remains an eternal virgin just for them.
This is the extent of their mental sickness - their male ego pathology that reflects itself in their insane, inane, expectations.
What prompted this post, apart from this bitter taste I had in my mouth ?
Ah yes, I now remember. It was an article I read about a French-Arab couple in their 30's in Lilles-France.
The husband had his marriage annulled in the French courts after discovering that his wife, contrary to her claims, was not a virgin. He could not see the blood stained sheet. The French courts gave him justice.
They echoed his beliefs and they unanimously gave the verdict -- "Bad merchandise."
Painting: Iraqi artist, Serwan Baran.
"Date" here, in this part of the world, does not have the same meaning as in the U.S.
Actually in Europe apart from contaminated Great Britain, there is no equivalent word for dating...I always found that quite interesting. The French call it a "rendez-vous" adding sometimes, the adjective "amoureux",always hoping that things will turn out -- amorously, yours.
And here, we have absolutely no equivalent word for dating in Arabic even though we have over 99 synonyms of the verb "to love"
I suppose a date for me is when I am introduced to some guy through relatively "kosher" channels and I agree to meet him alone for a drink...without seeking "permission" from the elders...And this is my WAY at 40+. About fucking time too.
Anyways, I really have to get this out of my system, because it has remained like a bitter taste in my mouth, bitter enough to make me gag at the thought of it.
This friend called me and said that X saw me at some gathering - I am not sure if it was a funeral or a wedding...does not matter, and that he really wanted to meet me again.
I can't remember any X. at a funeral or wedding party. I suppose am too involved in my inner world to pay any attention .
It turns out that this X, late 40's, has lived nearly of all his life in England and has finally settled here, because he "missed home". Divorced and looking...
I accepted to meet him. We agreed on a small, not too crowded café.
I went with no expectations, hoping to be pleasantly surprised. When there are no expectations, every positive trait become a bonus.
I made sure to keep my appearance sober and simple. Nothing too fancy. A pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I didn't want him to get ideas...
I was not particularly elated nor anxious, so that meant I was holding my grounds. Good sign, I thought to myself.
When I saw him, I remembered who he was. I had vaguely noticed him at L's wedding party not too long ago, but thought nothing of it/him.
He was quite attractive, had this clean crispy look to him, well trimmed nails and thank God, no white socks. He also greeted me warmly and had a nice smile. I thought to myself "now that's refreshing."
So we talked - generalities.
Then he asked me - " Have you been married before? "
- Yes, was...
- How long ago have you been divorced ?
- Several years.
- Anyone else since ?
- What do you mean, anyone else since ?
- Have you had boyfriends since your divorce
- I am in my 40's and have been divorced for over 10 years...
- How many boyfriends ?
At that point I got a hot flush. No, not the peri-menopause hot flush.
This one started at the sole of my feet and engulfed my toes, spread to my ankles and calves, settling in my knees ... It was my preparing myself to kick him real hard under the table, right in his balls.
But being the "nice, polite Arab girl" , I decided to play it in a different manner.
- How many boyfriends ? Oh my goodness, I can't remember, had so many of them, I lost count...
And I comfortably reclined in my chair and observed his facial expression...
To my utter delight he nearly choked on his coffee. He coughed and coughed and I just smiled.
The gall ! Here was a guy who lived all of his life in England, probably fucked half of the UK and comes and asks a woman in her 40's if she had any boyfriends since her divorce and on a first date! What was he expecting me to say?
"Of course I've had no boyfriends. I have been frozen in time for over 10 years, hoping to grow a new hymen just for you." ?!
Had I told him, I had one or 100 boyfriends it would have not made a difference.
I understood from his question and the tone of his voice, that this guy was of the all too common kind, driven by a the all too common fantasy, secretly and not so-secretly shared by many Arab men, whatever their religion -- that of the eternally virgin woman.
I am so acutely aware of the way this male psyche works that I can describe it to you in the most of tedious details and reveal to you what the exact fantasy is all about.
The fantasy is about possessing a woman who is all experienced and at the same time all virgin. Go figure now.
I can affirm to you, with all confidence, that if Arab men had their ways, ways that defy the laws of nature and of "God", they would re-create a married/divorced woman who remains an eternal virgin just for them.
This is the extent of their mental sickness - their male ego pathology that reflects itself in their insane, inane, expectations.
What prompted this post, apart from this bitter taste I had in my mouth ?
Ah yes, I now remember. It was an article I read about a French-Arab couple in their 30's in Lilles-France.
The husband had his marriage annulled in the French courts after discovering that his wife, contrary to her claims, was not a virgin. He could not see the blood stained sheet. The French courts gave him justice.
They echoed his beliefs and they unanimously gave the verdict -- "Bad merchandise."
Painting: Iraqi artist, Serwan Baran.
