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 ..."
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 ..."
I AM LOVING THISSSSSSSSSSSSSS. SO GLAD I STUMBLED ON THIS BLOG! :D
ReplyDeleteyou're going on my blog roll.
and welcome to the blogosphere! :)
Mashallah nice start
ReplyDeleteoo Keep it on ;)
Waiting for more,,~!