October 26, 2009

NL (Part 5)

Sorry for the long delay. I was away on summer vacation, relaxing, trying not to use my brain too much. Now that university's begun I've been busy but hopefully I'll continue to update. Moving along ..

I curled up in my beige Ikea bed covers, got comfortable, picked up my Samsung, and pressed my #2 speed dial.


"Nassoor shda3wa tgool aloo chithi chinnik shayeb?"

"Haha madry .. shga3da etsaween?"

"Tawni dasha frashi"

"Okay .. ana ga3d weyal shabab, mo tnameen! 3a6eeni ne9 sa3a wadig ok?"


I waited for what seemed like forever. I patiently waited, checking my phone every so often, in case I somehow missed his call. I didn't. I waited for two hours and finally gave up on his call back. When I woke up the next morning, I reached for my phone, seeing that Nasser had left me a text message saying, "La6oof good night. Mabe'3ait aga3dich warach ga3da e9eb7." I hated that I was waiting and waiting for his call and in the end he doesn't call. I let it slide, it's not like I would die without hearing his voice before I fall asleep. I was going to dream of him anyway.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, looked at my puffy sleepy face, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and put on some moisturizer. At this point of my day, I'm lucky if I can remember how to walk, I really am not a morning person. I browse through my wardrobe, uninspired, put on jeans and a tshirt. I walked into Business Ethics class that morning, sat down, starting to work on my morning doodles when all of a sudden I see Nasser walk into my all-girls class.

I stared at him, as it's the first time we really see each other at university after spending so much time together. Nasser walks up to my professor, talks to him, and is seated on the opposite side of the room to take an exam. The girl in the seat next to me stared at him, smiles, and says to me, "Hatha .. mino?" and I politely reply, "Hatha Nasser Al-Flani, a3arfa .. e5ta rfeejat 5alti." With such ease she sat up, looked at her phone and said, "Well, he's cute! .. But, don't tell him." I was bubbling with jealousy and frustration. How could this morbid, disgusting, hideous girl say anything about him? She doesn't know him, nor will she ever get to know such a loving beautiful handsome man!! She shouldn't even be allowed to look at him! She is too low of a person or a thing to look at him! Whoa whoa where did all this rage come from? Why am I getting so defensive all of a sudden? What was it that made me feel so defensive and protective over him? It was an alien emotion to me so I brushed it off, thinking I was just being paranoid or something.

I watched Nasser from the corner of my eye, loving the way he looked, the way his lips moved ever so gently as he was concentrating on his exam. That second, for the first time in my life, I wanted to know what that movement in his lips might feel like, what they would feel like moving against my lips. Were they soft? Were they supple? Were they hot? Wet? What are you saying?!?!?! Kissing his lips?!!? I've seen him a handful of times and I'm already thinking about kissing him!? Ok shut up and just continue doodling you idiot! As I continued to draw a stiff looking stick figure of some guy with a disproportionately large head, I looked up to notice that Nasser wasn't in the room any longer. Although he didn't look at me, nor txted me telling me he was coming, I felt like something was missing. Could it be that I already missed him? I saw him for a few minutes, just saw him, didn't make eye contact, nor smell his scent, nor have any sort of communication with him. How could it be that I missed him? What was it that I felt? Did I love him? Was I in love with Nasser? Could it really be?

May 18, 2009

NL (Part 4)

As soon as I stepped into Nasser's jet black Chevrolet Tahoe I smelled the sweet smell of him. The beautiful mix of dihin 3ood, ward, and perfume filled my lungs and triggered this feeling of total relaxation, the way lavender's supposed to. I sunk into the cushion of my seat and said, "Hello Nassoor." Nasser looked at me, smiled the goofiest smile and said, "Sh7alat-ha wallah." I turned away so as not to let him see me turn a bright tomato red, flushed with embarrassment.

"Hahahahaha!! Shda3wa mesta7ya La6oof? Haha sh7alatich wallah, babyy!"

"Hey!! Shnu baby inta?! Ana 3omri 20 okay?! Far from baby if you ask me!"

"Haha embala intay baby. 3shreen lail7een z'3eera tara, intay baby, tawich ."

"3alaqal mo 3ayooz mithlik!!"

"Hahaha!! Shayeb ya la6oof mo 3ayooz!!"

"Chab zain!! Yalla! Let's hear you try to talk english! I speak english very best! Yalla! Yalla 5anesma3!!"

"Haha chub a3arif bas ma7eb ..."

"Ee 9a7!" I said with a smile, "Inzain, Nassoor .. etdil? Wela adaleek?"

"9ob sheraton 9a7?"

"Ee .. tara ana akil wayid mate5ayal shkithr"

"Ee zain, 5eft no3ich teste7een takleen jidami"

"Umbay 7adda lae!! 7adi ya3ni 5anzeera haha .. etha akil jidami madri 3an nafsi .. "

"Haha ya7lailha baby"

Whenever Naser called me baby it was annoying, yes, but he said it with a genuine smile, a little laugh. The way he said it made me tingle all over and smile from deep within and I coulda sworn the muscles in my heart were tightning, the way my cheeks do when I smile. We parked in the parking space and steppped into the crummy little elevator. The elevator ride was so awkward for me, it was the size of a shoe and I had to stand so close to Nasser. I have this thing where I can't look at a person in the eye for fear that they'd see all my flaws and imperfections, I just couldn't let anyone see that part of me.

"Shda3wa lail7een mista7ya?"

I didn't want him to know about my insecurities so I shyly said, "Hehe ee .."

"Haha cute baby"

"Inzain bas chub .. Did you press the button?"

"Lae. Ma3aref ai floor"

"Nasser al7een 9arlina sina bil elevator o you didn't press the button?! Shga3d etsawi?!"

"Ga3d ashoofich."

"Inzain bas! Ma7eb walla!" as I squeezed past him and pressed the M button for Mezzanine.


"Bas! Ma7eb!"

"3ala ra7tich La6oof .. sorry"

"3adi walla bas madry ma7eb, asti7i .."

*ping* as the doors open we're greeted by seven stinky Indians waiting to get onto the elevator.

Nasser and I look at each other and smiled, both holding in our laughter at the unpleasant smell of the laborers that desperately needed a trip home to the shower. As we walk into the restaurant we're welcomed with the pleasant medley of spices and light clanking of pots and pans coming from the kitchen.

"Allah! Ree7atna bet9eer hindi!!"

"Haha ushh Nassoor layesme3oona!!"

Nasser and I sat down in the beautifully colorful booth, on opposite sides of the table. I looked up at Nasser for a split second and then looked away, for fear he may notice my abnormal nose or my imperfect left eyebrow. Nasser ordered for the two of us and he ordered in abundance. Nasser ordered Mutton Curry, Chicken Curry, Lamb Curry, white rice, saffron rice, Rotti, and the infamous butter naan. Naan reminds me so much of my trip to India a few years back, which I ate on a daily basis accompanied with mint chutney. At the time I felt like naan was the safest option, and most always was very delicious. To finish off our meal we asked for two orders each of ras malai and gulab jamun, my favorite Indian desserts. Ras malai are sweet flat balls made with ricotta or cottage cheese, soaked in rich sweetened milk; it is one of my most favorite desserts ever. Gulab jamun is similar to ras malai, as they're sweet balls, made with milk, and soaked in a sugary cardamom saffron mixture. Nasser watched me as I passionately pressed my spoon into the gooey ras malai and allowed it to sit on my tongue and trigger my taste buds, sending a feeling of ultimate satisfaction through my body. I finished up my ras malai and had just pierced my gulab jamun with my spoon when I could feel a smile radiating from Nasser, "Tara 7adich etshawgeen laman takleen shai et7ebeena," he said.

"Umm .. sij? Mo chinni baloo3a?"

"Hahahaha!! 3ayal a7la baloo3a bidinya!"

"Haha I'll take that as a compliment!!"

Nasser looked down at his phone and said,"Oh La6oof tara esa3a 3ashr o ne9 .. mo met2a5ra 3al bait?"

"Oh shit!! Oh shit ma kan qazdi agool oh shit! Oh shit I just did it again! Ohh walla sorry!! Tara masib chithi bas ya3ni madry 6la3at bel '3ala6!!" Lie!! I swore everytime I was excited or frustrated or tremendously happy.

"Heh La6oof 3adee shda3waa .. Ha? Namshi? Tabeen a6leblich ba3ad gulab jamun o rasmalai take away?"

"Tabeeni anfejer wela shnu?"

"3adi .."

"Shnu 3adi?!"

"Ya3ni still bitkoneen 7elwa .. "

"Umm .. thanks .." I managed to say, just as I was about to turn 6oma6a red. Shortly after, the hospitable Indian waiter arrived with the check, which Nasser paid for although I offered to. He replied saying it was 3aib that I even suggested it. I liked that in a man, it's what a gentleman does. We proceeded to the cramped elevator, which we ended up sharing with a man dressed in a dishdasha. Nasser and I looked at the elevator door and we both knew exactly what we were doing, we were both trying so hard not to smile and at the same time act as 6abee3i as possible. As we stepped out of the elevator the man in the dishdasha followed us and walked to the other side of the parking lot. As soon as we got into Nasser's car, we started laughing, and the funny part is, it wasn't very funny! That's the thing about Nasser and me, we laughed at nothing, and always had a good time.

The drive back home was quiet, except for the sound of my sudden heart palpitations when Nasser reached for my hand. I looked at him, smiled a shy smile, and looked away, so obviously blushing a crimson red with embarassment. We finally reached my block, took the u-turn, and drove up my driveway. Nasser turned to me and said, "La6oof... bagoolich shai"

"Hala Nasser .."

"Tara waihich eraye7ni .. wayid arta7 laman ashof waihich, inshallah dom ashofich warta7 chithi"

I let out a "hehe" but in my heart I prayed, I prayed "inshallah ya rab, inshallah dom Nasser wida eshoofni, inshallah ya rab."

I closed my eyes and felt something, something I've never felt before.

April 13, 2009

NL (Part 3)

The next few days I didn't see Nasser much, I played hard to get shway, I didn't want to be that desperate. I craved his company, it was so innocent, fun filled, and I felt like Nasser was part of my family; a cousin, or even a young uncle. Nasser called every now and then to check up on me, making sure I was attending classes, eating right, and saying something funny just to hear me laugh. Nasser always wanted what was best for me, and aham shay 3inda kan wanasti, as long as I was happy, he was happy. Whenever I laughed, I heard him smile in his silence, feeling satisfied that he had made me laugh, a genuine laugh.

"La6oof, 5anroo7 net3asha weya ba3ath youm.."


"Madry... entay wain tigdireen? Tigdireen elyom?"

"Walla madry Nassoor... bas chinni meshtahya hindi?"


"Haw, shfeek?"

"Samaiteeni Nassoor... wanasa hehe"

"Umbay madry shlon 6la3at! Walla mo qazdi! 6la3at bro7ha!"

"Hahahahahahah la la 3adiiii!!! Hehe... inzain la6oof... wain tabeen?"

"Madry walla... mali khilg a7ad, fe ma63am eb mujama3 madry shesma .. aklhom 7elo o fe cabins .. it's cozy and REALLY clean!"

"Tamam... aye amorich ana?"


I was so nervous and I didn't really know why. The fact that I will be alone with him in a cabin made my heart palpitate and my palms sweat profusely. What was it that was so scary? How could I feel this nervous about seeing Nasser? We hung out together, we went to Scientific Center together, I mean, the man literally saw me act like a baby in front of all those sea creatures!!

I had two hours ahead of me and decided to start getting ready. I took a shower, shaved my legs, and sat perched on the edge of my bed in front of my closets imagining an outfit from the sea of clothes that is my closet.My biggest problem is that I have so much clothes yet feel like I never have anything to wear, I bet a few of you girls feel the same way! After much consideration, I opted for jeans and a flowy grey top, I just wasn't in the creative mood to think up a smart outfit so I played it safe with a simple outfit. I had another hour and a half to spare and decided to paint my face as if it were a canvas. I lined my lower lashline with the pearly white Givenchy Kohl powder to make them appear larger, flicked black Bobbi Brown's gel eyeliner on my upper lash line, applying MAC's Desert Rose on the apples of my cheeks, and finished off with a mist of Avene Thermal Water to set my make up. Just as I had spritzed on my signature perfume, my cell beeps ..

Message: La6oof ana bara

I grabbed my brown leather satchel, ran down, put on my brown leather gladiators, and rushed to the driveway.

March 30, 2009

NL (Part 2)

"Hala Nasser?"

"La la 5ala9 ... it's not my place to say"

"Yalla goolee..."

"Lae 5ala9 forget it ... Inzain, inshallah estanastai ilyom?"

"Off 7addi estanast!! I haven't had this much fun in years! I felt like a kid all over again! Thanks so much walla. Maga9art."

"Shda3wa, masawait shai! Ana ili estanast walla. Ya7lailha baby testanis bil aquarium," he said with a smile stretched from ear to ear.

And with that I got out of the car, smiling, walked toward the gate, and just before I reached it, turning around and waved goodbye to the man that had made me a child again, in a time when I thought it was impossible to be as happy as I was at that moment.

The next week, I was invited by Nasser to the movies at Soug Sharq. I parked my car in a random co-op near Nasser's house, where he came to pick me up. Nasser never hinted any flirtation, or anything equally inappropriate. As rehearsed at the Scientific Center, Nasser bought snacks such as chocolate and chips, offering some to me, and me refusing, within minutes I had all the snacks in my lap. I cannot remember the movie we watched, but what I do remember is Nasser glancing at me very subtly, as if not to disturb me, just to look at me, not to suggest anything, but, just to look, like an infant looks at his or her parents. I pretended not to notice, if I had we would have both been equally embarrassed.

We had gone to an early movie, and by the time we got out, we were ready for another adventure. We thought of this and that--restaurant, cafe--but nothing seemed too appealing. He invited me to his home but I kindly refused, saying that I really wouldn't feel comfortable in a man's home. He respected me saying, "ee la adry La6oof, sorry, ana ma kan qazdi shay walla, latfakreen '3ala6, bas kan qazdi ena neg3ad o nerta7, 7a6een 5aima bil 7adeeqa o b'3ait ena neg3ad, plz lata5theen fekra '3ala6 minni." Was he for real?! He was such a gentleman, o oslooba kan wayid 7elo! I started to blush and said, "La don't worry, ma5athait fekra," and flashed him a shy smile.

We drove around for what felt like an hour and you could tell Nasser was getting tired and frustrated with driving for so long. I said, "We can go to your 5aima Nasser, bas only for half an hour, you can serve me tea, meshtahya tea," with a smirk on my face. Within minutes we arrived at his house, it's not the most beautiful home, nor the ugliest, it was a typical Kuwaiti home, with a little garden, a large diwaniya for him and his friends, and a small little 5aima fit for three. He led me in quietly, so as not to alarm his mother, he had told her ena el shabab were coming so she wouldn't come out and check on them. The tent was warm and toasty on that especially cold night, and the only thing missing was the hot cocoa with mini marshmallows. In that little 5aima he had the customary cushions set up on the floor, a flat screen plasma, and a Play Station 3. It was refreshing to think of Nasser playing Play Station with his friends, it was so boyish, cute, and innocent, it was an image in my head that I liked very much.

"Shiftay hatha, madry shesma, thnaina yaboon madry shnu fa yetzawejon, chuck madry shnu..."

"I now pronounce you Chuck and Larry?"

"Ee hatha! Shaifita?"

"Lae.. 7elo?"

"Ee etha7ek, 3indiya... tabeen enchofa?"

"Laa Nasser mayamdi."

"Aah okay," he responded, with a look on his face that looked so hurt and sad that I couldn't not watch it.

"Maybe just a bit, but then I have to go home"

"Inshallah" he said, with a huge grin across his face.

We watched the movie, with Nasser sitting in front of the TV in the corner, and me off in the distance fidgeting like mad because of the awkward seated position I was in. I was trying to get comfortable and it just wouldn't happen. Nasser noticed my fidgeting and offered his spot to me, saying it was comfy. I accepted his offer, his spot was so comfy I snuggled up and watched the movie in peace. I felt so cold that somehow, I inched closer and closer to Nasser's body, seeking warmth wherever I could find it. I was curled up in such a little ball and somewhat shivering that Nasser got up, got me a blanket, and tucked me in it. I remember when my aunt used to tuck me in before I'd go to bed, I loved it, I felt so loved and cared for, something I hadn't felt in years. I looked up at Nasser and thanked him from the bottom of my heart. Even with the blanket, I felt cold, and I subconsciously moved closer and closer to Nasser. I was so close to his body that I could hear the sound of his breath, and that's the moment when I was finally warm. I had this warm fuzzy feeling inside of me, a feeling of total relaxation and ease. There was something strange about Nasser, the way he made me feel; I felt so safe when I was with him, like nothing in the world could harm me. Without thinking I lifted my head, turned to him, and put my head on his shoulder, asking, "3adi?" and he just nodded, without excitement, without frustration, just a nod, like a bobble-head toy would nod. I didn't care about the movie, or about anything around me, I had not a care in the world; I felt safe, and I wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could. When the movie ended Nasser said,"Latifa, tara 5ala9 el filim, macheftee sa7?" with a little smile.

I blushed and said, "Sorry bas walla inta wayid comfy, chinnik mo5adda"

"Ee adry,"he said o 3afas waiha, "hal karsha mako akbar minha."

"Lol chub!! Bil 3ax .. 7adha comfortable, can I take it home with me?"

"Lol tekfain e5thee!"

"Hehe...Nasser, sa3a cham ?"

Nasser glanced at his phone and yelled, "Ullah! Tara La6oof esa3a 11:15!!!"

"Shit! Shit! Ohh shit sorry gelt shit!! Tara walla maseb chithi bas shit!!! Omi ebtethba7ni!! Yalla yalla goom wa9elni el bait!!"

We quickly got up, I gathered my things and we were in the car heading home. It's a good thing we live in adjacent areas, making it faster to get to each other or from each others homes. He pulled up in front of my house, I quickly said bye and ran inside.

"Mama, baba, I'm home!!"

..... no answer

"Moommmm!!! Babaaaaaaa!!"

"Madam dey go outt, maybii dey come baq apter" said Marcelle in a high pitched voice that could shatter eardrums.

I called Nasser and said, "Umbay te5ayal! 6al3een! We7na 6aireen o raktha 3al fathi!!"

"Laa? 7asafa 3ad, law chaifeen filim thani a7san."

"Hehe 3ad 7attan law 7a6ait filim mara7 ashoof, 7adi dai5a. Tara Nasser sorry 3an putting my head on your shoulder, madry shlon 9arat, 7asait eni kint 5adrana wagtha, sorry etha athaitek"

"Shda3wa La6oof 3adii. You can lean on me anyday"

I pulled the phone away from my ear and to my chest and hugged it as hard as I could.

I like him, I like him a lot

*** age6 badliyat sometimes fa etha I do, please let me know, I love to learn :)

March 28, 2009

NL (Part 1)

I'm sitting here, on my bed, in the shalaih, preparing to delete him out of my life. I have my facebook open, looking at his "Me" photo album. He's so cute in this one picture he has, he's wearing my royal blue shaba9a on his wrist, so cute. Snap out of it! It's better this way, it is. Just bring yourself to hit the "Remove from Friends" button, yalla ...

It started about two years ago. I was dating Hassan, he was a little bit of an asshole, but lets face it, most guys have the capability of being assholes at one point or another. Hassan was your typical liberal Kuwaiti, if he could even be called a Kuwaiti. Hassan barely spoke Arabic, was barely Muslim, and barely had any Kuwaiti traditions or values. Hassan valued girls, girls, and more girls. What attracted me to him? His stupidity. Just like a child is attracted to a bird with a broken wing, I was attracted to Hassan, I pitied him. Hassan was stupid, arrogant, egotistic, and utterly stupid. Just talking and thinking about him disgusts me, so I'm going to move on, he's had more than enough mentioning. Hassan had a friend, Nasser, who was so Kuwaiti, for God's sake, kan edawem jam3a eb dishdasha kilyom! He seemed so refined, so proud, yet modest. I didn't understand now Nasser could befriend someone as stupid and un-Kuwaiti as Hassan, but I was happy at the time, knowing Hassan would be a little more Kuwaiti with a good friend like Nasser.

One day while I was talking to Hassan, talking about this or that, probably something stupid like, "Hey, did you ever eat chocolates in the car? It's pretty cool actually, especially when you're high or drunk." Yeah, stupid. Anyway, somehow, I can't recall how, the phone ends up with Nasser, who's voice had a distinct sound to it, it wasn't wonderful, it wasn't annoying, it was different, it was his. It turned out that his sister is friends with my aunt! We spoke for what seemed like an hour on Hassan's phone. I knew Hassan would be angry, I didnt' care, I enjoyed every minute of it, it was nice talking about something not stupid for a change. A few weeks later I dumped Hassan, he was boring and stupid and I couldn't bear any more of it.

A few months later, I get a message from Nasser on Facebook, asking if he could add me, I accepted of course, he was a gentleman and a family friend of sorts and went to college with me. There was innocent messaging back and forth, complimenting me on my red Prada ballerinas that I wore to college that day, asking why I looked so worried, etc. I saw us as just acquaintances, seeing as he's asked about my friend before, saying "oooffff 7adddhhaaaaa sexxxyyyyyyyy!!!" I didn't mind it but when I think about it now, that was just a tad bit hailigi and distasteful on his part.

It was my birthday, which I assume Nasser found out about via Facebook. On my birthday I got a call from a random number, it went to voice message, I had missed the call. I called my voice message and it's that voice, that distinct voice that I enjoyed hearing. Nasser had been waiting outside my house with a present for me. I was surprised, shocked and nervous. I was getting dressed for my birthday dinner out with the girls and ran out to see him, I didn't want to keep him waiting, it would have been so rude! I couldn't have sent Marcelle out either, I had to go out myself, the man brought me a gift for Pete's sake! He looked at me and began to blush, I took that as him being shy, which I thought was the cutest thing everr. Nasser had brought me a cake, a large, massive cake. He wouldn't let me carry it in so he carried it for me, carried it into my home. He placed the cake on the first table he saw and said, "Ok yalla bye". He was so nervous he tripped over his own foot, it was the most adorable thing in the world. He couldn't get out of there any faster! I led him to the door and thanked him for his wonderful cake. I walked back and looked at myself in my reflection on the window. I gasped and covered my chest with both hands. The dress I was wearing, to my surprise, accentuated my breasts (translation: exposed my cleavage) and I had forgotten to put on a cardigan to cover my arms. I then realized why Nasser was blushing and was so shy, my breasts were in his face! The next few days Nasser texted me asking how school was, how I was doing, the formalities (let's hope the breasts had nothing to do with this act of friendliness). One day, while texting about life, he asked if we could meet up for coffee; I had to decline, I barely knew Nasser, and plus, it felt awkward, he was this conservative, closed-minded guy while I was this open-minded, liberal, free-spirited girl. We would never have a good time.

Months later, Nasser began calling me, always at reasonable hours of course, and never for long periods of time. I once mentioned that I had never gone to the Scientific Center, and that I'd been dying to go for years. He told me, "Yalla La6oof, badlai o ana bayi amorich al7een. Mali shi'3il tara, intai 9arlich fatra tabeen etro7een o ana bawadeech, yalla." I was so excited that I didn't care that I was going to allow some stranger to come pick me up and take me to the Scientific Center. I was still a child at heart. I put on a grey cashmere sweater, my favorite jeans, and a pair of grey suede high-heel booties. Nasser was very polite and didn't say anything inappropriate or suggesting flirtation, he treated me with respect. He asked if I wanted any snacks while we watched the imax and I said no, but he bought some anyway, which he offered, and I refused. Five minutes later, after countless rejections, I gave in and took the chips, chocolate, and candy, and stuffed them in my face. I had the time of my life, I felt careless, without worries, everything stood still and everything was about my happiness, and just that.
Nasser took me home, parked outside my house and turned to me and said, "Latifa, bakoon 9aree7 ma3ach ..."