I had yet another vacation love. Ok, I won't call it "love" because it wasn't; let's just say a "thang" (or perhaps a "distraction"). And it wasn't physical - because he was 6,000 miles away in Monte Carlo.
We talked on the phone for an average of 3-4 hours per night; usually talking until one of us was too tired and had fell asleep. We exchanged photos and videos of where we were each day. He was caring and considerate and sounded totally passionate. Mmmmmm.
We made tons of plans about what we would do when we both got back to Kuwait. We wouldn't just hug each other on the phone to sleep, but in person ("hug me to sleep"). (He lives in my neighborhood. Not to difficult to imagine.) We'd go to visit friends; to parties; to restaurants. We were planning to be girlfriend and boyfriend and all that mushy crap.
Ok, and then I frickin landed in reality (KWI, if you can call that "reality")....
He was still calling. He arrived in Kuwait a few days after I did. We had made plans to meet at my place. Then, that changed when he called and told me to meet him at a friend's apartment for drinks. Uh, no. You wants me, you come gets me. (Gentleman much or what?)
So he did. We met on 2 different nights... at his friends' apartments.... for drinks. I was seeing a pattern.
Several of his Kuwaiti friends also have American girlfriends (who I didn't meet, "yet"). I got the usual, "Are you a teacher?" from his friends. I'm always like, 'Please don't follow that with, "Are you a secretary?" His friends did the usual thing of, "Excuse us while we talk Arabic (or what I really hate "in our language"...)." And even after I TOLD them several times that I understand Arabic and speak it - and have been in Kuwait for 18 years, (and spoke it to them), they were still apologizing and translating what they had just said. Em, ok... but I get it.... So it was like they were intentionally leaving me out of the conversation and then thinking that they should say something polite. Sigh. That shit gets old.
[Sidebar: There is something to be said for just being able to be yourself with people who "get it" that you are multi-cultural and they don't want to label you or pigeon hole you into a "type" from the get-go. Don't assume anything.]
Tall, gorgeous, Arab-Barbi-model girlfriend of one of his friends stared me down all night; doing the Arab female shake-down, trying to figure me out. I know the look; my little dog does it when she's trying to determine if she likes the person or not; or if the person is worthy of her. (The dip was so close to Barbi's face.... She just looked so perfect..... Don't do it, Desert Girl.. restraint... restraint. smile, smile....)
Anyhooser, while we were there, we make plans to travel together to Dubai. Everything is going good. But, after all the lovey-dovey phone talk, dude still isn't really closing the deal and dropped me off at home because he "was tired" (he called me 2 hours later from a restaurant). So ok, the phone calls seem to be coming in at times when HE has nothing better to do. Perhapsee you didn't realize that I might be sleeping at 2 am on a work night? I'm getting it....
Monte Carlo invited me to a party the next night (Friday night). Friday rolled around: He hadn't called and hadn't responded to my SMS's. Okey dokey. Maybe he got busy with the family. He called around 8:30 pm and said he was on his way to his uncle's chalet for dinner ("just for the family.). Huh? What? No party. In the blink of an eye, I flipped him. 'I'm on my way to the farm in Kabd to see my friends... Talk to you later. Gotta go. You know this road is dangerous... '
I did go to the farm, but it was about 10 minutes after I hung up with dude. My bro, Hmood, always gives me good man-perspective advice: "If he hasn't made any moves, he's keeping you around to show his friends that he has an American/foreign girlfriend so he looks cool." You know, I may be daft, but this kind of thing just never occurs to me at the time. I go along thinking that people are well-intentioned and straight forward. NOT. Foiled again. I suddenly get it. Hmood is dead-on. Crap. ...Hand me the bottle. I was a sourpuss all night.
So, Monte Carlo calls me the next day. He went to the party (where "they played Arabic music,") and then had the balls to tell me what a great time he had, "... but I was single....What's wrooooong, babyyyyyyy? C'mon, don't be maaaaad." Me, being the in-your-face kinda gal I am just told him that I was disappointed that he invited me then un-invited me and I was disappointed in him in general after all the hachi al fathi (basically bullshit talk). "Don't worry, this coming weekend we are going to have an American party and you can come. That is, if I don't go to Dubai..." 'Oh, so I'm dis-invited for Dubai too? Ok.' I'm like, 'Dude! I would much rather be at a gaaada with a Khaleeji band. Do you even know me? Have you listened to anything I've said about who I am?' I guess I should have known when he played me, "Saturday Night Fever" over the phone several times, thinking I would love it. That and "Hotel California" both make me want to puke. I don't know why people think, "typical Americans" are into that stuff. (And, WHO is typical?) I'm pretty sure they were going to order some hot dogs for this "American party" and play crappy music all night that they think we would like. Bring on the machboos and the oud... I'm outa there.
It is quite obvious to me now that I was having 1-sided conversations with myself when I could have been watching back episodes of CSI while in Virginia. That was stupid. Dude never heard most of what I said - and cared even less about who I am or what I like. (Pop-quiz: What are the names of my pets? Quick, quick, quick...)
There are plenty of other American women in Kuwait that would make much better arm-pieces than me. I'm sure he'll find someone else (once he learns how to treat a lady and cleans up a bit). He's single, eligible, and from a REALLY wealthy family so perhaps he could just pay someone (50 KD and an EZ card?).
Sigh. I would rather be home with my dogs, eating popcorn for dinner, and watching my Apple TV with my hair up
... until the next adventure. (And subsequent blog post...)