I get by with a little help from my friends

So, after pondering the question of to post or not to post; and after many kind words from people writing in to say, "go for it" and "keep it real" (THANK YOU!)  I have decided....  what the hey - I am who I is and I am just going to tell it like it is.  Lay it on the line.  Dish.  Comment on La Vida Loca in Kuwait.

(No, not my underwear size, but commenting on relationshits.  Yes, yes, I know - inquiring minds want to know and all that.  Mais, pervs, I'm not dishing ALL.)

I know what some of the hatahs are going to say, "Oh my God, girl, you are SUCH a loser!"  To wit I say, 'Go have intimate relations with yourself.  Dooooo it.'  You don't have to read.  You don't have to judge.  No one is holding a gun to your head.  I'm not asking for your approval.  This doesn't cost me anything and it is free therapy; regardless of the feedback I receive.

So here's the thing.  I gave Mr. Clean too many chances (similar to The Man, but in a shorter period of time, BUT with the same amount of feelings attached).  I finally decided to take back control and just purge: Deleted him from all my accounts, deleted his number, deleted his photos (well, put them into cold storage), boxed up all the little things I had from him (which were very few actually).  I just couldn't put myself through it anymore. Everything hurt.  My whole body.  My soul.   He has been so unhealthy and the last insult was the worst.  I didn't deserve it and it was clearly intended to injure.  I heard it in his voice:  He knew that he was doing wrong.  ("Do no harm."  It will be returned to you.)

When I met him, we had differences:  There was an age difference for one thing (which he said didn't make an iota of difference to him when we met - so he said and so he showed me); for another, he had a "secret" which I didn't (and have never cared about) - he's stateless ("non-Kuwaiti").  I thought he accepted me for me and I accepted him for him.  Telling me that you're non-Kuwaiti/bidoon/stateless makes about as much difference to me as saying, "my teeth are crooked" or "I'm black/green/white/this-that-or-the-other" or "I'm poor."   I love people for their soul.  Look in my eyes and let me see who you are.  That's IT.

I'm me.  Apparently, either he is making an excuse or he does not accept me for me and was quite insulting about it.  I refuse to lower myself to insults.  If it is an excuse (which his family and mine believe to be true), he should be humane enough to say, "This just isn't working out...." and discuss it.  Unfortunately, what I have found with men in these parts is that although they are very good at poetry and weaving beautiful words in many ways; direct communication is not something that is culturally the norm.  When they could speak frankly, they would rather either ignore or push you away with something far from the truth.  It is easier to not to face their own pain (feelings of failure, perhaps?) and ignore than be honest and forthright.

SIDEBAR:  (And something else....)  In the  future:  I've decided that I don't want to connect with a man through a smart phone.  I am actually considering using a second phone - a 16KD Nokia I have in my drawer - without even Bluetooth or a camera - and give that number to any man I might meet. Phuck technology and smart phones!   I don't want to see what girls he's adding on stupid teen-aged applications.  I don't want to know that he was last online at 3:00 am (and not with me).  I don't want to see his photos and messages on Instagram.  I don't want to see the friends list of Shoo-shoos, Mimi's, Saroonas, Sweet (this, that, and the other) on Facebook.   I don't want to believe he is King of the Chatworld with God-knows-who.  All this technology shit is really really awful for relationships. I just don't want to know.  I feel like I've got to become the Cyber Police just to find out what's next in MY relationship with him.  WHY?

I am breaking up with Mr. Clean, but I refuse to break up with his family. Friday lunches with his step-mom, dad, and 6 siblings have become my routine.   Perhapsee that is not a good thing, as it brings up memories (so says my mom and close friends).  At the same time, I'm not willing to let them go yet.  I believe I have been doing a good job of separating him from his family in my mind.  And if I believed that they didn't love me for me, I wouldn't be around them.  His family wishes we could work things out, but it has just gone too far. I feel very close to his dad.  Maybe because I lost mine.  His dad is a lot like mine was:  He is quiet and comforting and will provide pieces of advice that make you think things through without being in-your-face about it. I have told him about everything and he has been very comforting.  Clean's family are very dear to me.

Mr. Clean hasn't spoken to his family since he and I broke up.  He hasn't visited them.  He had a minor argument (so everybody says - and completely un-related to me) and has been so bull-headed stubborn that he won't just go and make it better; very similar to what he has done with me.  I feel so sorry for his father because they had been so close and I can see how badly his father is hurting.  Who DOES that to a parent? In my many years around Arab people, I find this to be an extremely rare situation. In most religions and cultures, dishonoring a parent is wrong; but especially so within Moslem families (I believe).  I don't know how things have gotten so ugly.  So, Mr. Clean hasn't been at any of the Friday afternoon family lunches. Once he returns (I hope soon for the sake of the parents), I will probably ask to see the family when he's not around.  As his dad says, "... you still have your brothers and sister here."

His brother (and best friend) empathizes with me.  They haven't talked for several weeks either.  He's grieving.  "We both went to Thailand together. I came back the same. He didn't..."  I don't know what happened there. I don't know that I want to.  But something happened to Clean there that was, quite obviously, life-altering.  (Sorcery?)

I can see Clean a few years from now, married to a pregnant, mousy, subservient 17 or 18 year old.  He'll be miserable.  She'll be miserable.  But, he will have a big rice belly from all the great food she's been in there cooking all day.  Then, he'll go to the diwaniya every night. They will rarely speak.  She'll watch TV in a moo-moo (duraa) and take care of babies (until later when they get divorced and she realizes how unhappy she's been all those years and how much she's grown as a person).   I'll be long gone and I won't remember his name.

Clean came around at a time when I needed him there.  I was just coming out of the desert.  I had lost my desert family and he (and his family) became my new ("deera") family.  Things happen for a reason.  Maybe it was meant to be for a period of time - not forever.

I have met new people and this was one of the best weekends I can remember - ever.  I will write about what happened yesterday in more detail when I'm more comfortable discussing it online.  It was just so..... sigh.....amazing.  (Sunset from the water....)

I'm just living my life.   I continue to learn something new every day.  That's it.