Men

 It seems that I’m exposing men’s vulnerability with my letters to you. Yes, I treat them as letters, letters that I will never send you but I hope that one day we will read them together. Ironically I find reflections of my pain in the lives and reactions of all my friends and colleagues. We are all lonely within the crowds we deal with, we are weaker than we pretend and kinder than we seem. We all need love, but most of us refuse to admit. Why am I telling you this now? I never cared about such macho stereotypes, I never hid any of my feelings from you, no matter how childish they seemed, I was very keen to be myself. May be such transparency shocked you or annoyed you. May be I acted weirdly, I unfiltered my words and you know how talkative I can be, I nagged a lot, but as I told you I was thrilled and wanted to shout that “I am so happy”. My echoes were too disturbing, right?

Sorry, I just wanted to share with you this minor thought. It crossed my mind as I was looking at a group of men, well dressed, elegantly shaven and seem successful, but every poor soul of them was lost in his own thoughts, may be struggling in a personal battle. I know not all battles are romantic ones, I know, but even though, who gives any man the excuse to be needy, weak or confused. The endless list of accusations is always ready, so we, men, choose silence and put on one mask after the other till our real selves are suffocated beneath the weight of masculine lies. I met my real self with you, and even now, as I linger aimlessly alone, I hope I will never have to hide behind any mask.

The sin

 They said once Adam and Eve tasted the forbidden apple they became suddenly ashamed of their human nature, some considered it their nakedness, others believed that it was their weakness, but in fact it was their endless and everlasting longing to the impossible. Once we left or I left or you forced me to leave, I was ashamed of my vulnerability, haven’t I stripped off all my masks in-front of you? Haven’t I confessed all my needs in front of you? haven’t I recalled all my defeats in-front of you? Adam and Eve were told not to eat that fruit, but no one warned me that by approaching you I’ll be eternally cursed. I am ashamed of my nativity, I should have been more cautious, and understand that love is not for me. I am shocked by the sheer happiness that I felt with you, have I been missing such bliss all these decades, do I still have a chance, May I? And before finding answers to all these questions I was asked to leave your garden of Eden and return back to my dystopian world, a world that I can’t really bear now.

O… how I miss your smiles, how magical our moments were and how cruel my days are. What was my sin? Loving you. Did I have any other choice but to fall in love? To love you in a way that recreated me, in a way that distorted me, in a way that shatters me every day. I am praying for forgiveness, forgiveness for a sin I wasn’t even aware of. I miss you, I miss your voice, your way of pronouncing some words indifferently, your elegant and slightly arrogant manner of expressing your ideas. I miss kissing you, losing ourselves in a sweeping tide of kisses, surrendering to such magical moments before realizing that we have to leave. I left, but I’m begging every memory not to leave me. Some days I recall all your words hysterically, even your smiles, I recall everything. Some days I feel that the happiness I tasted is worth all this devastating pain, some days I believe that your love elevated me to the rank of classical lunatics and that what happened was magical, was to good to be true and that our life here is not the right place for such a love story. Some days, but definitely not today.

I blame you.

You are afraid to accept that you love me. Sometimes I think that this is the truth, what a bittersweet feeling! You love me, loved me but… and there is always but, but you did not want this love, you refused it and convinced yourself that it wasn’t love, may be “feelings”, but not love. Will these thoughts help? Never. I know that it became a hopeless case. I ignore our love, resist think of you, count the hours and as I start celebrating passing half a day without thinking of you, I realize that you have been with me on each and every step. I tried all the mental tricks, doubting my feelings, labeling them as anything except love and even mocking love and lovers, but nothing succeeded in distracting me for more than a couple of hours. 

A few days ago I had a very strange conversation with a total stranger, we discussed life, dreams, career, finances and every important aspect of one’s life except love. Throughout our conversation I was thinking of you, and fitting you within that topic, as if we were together. I realized that I need you more than ever, everything without you seem incomplete or at least seems unsuitable for me, in other words, not my dreams and not my plans. So, am I supposed to carry on without a clue of what I want to do. It seemed that without you everything will be equally tasteless. For that stranger, I sounded sensible, simply because I faked most of my opinions and gave him the perfect answers, I wasn’t myself, but what about when we were together? I was being myself, totally, specially at the beginning, May be only at the very end, when we had our cruel one-sided ending, only then I wasn’t being myself. I was afraid to lose you, afraid to the extent that I was sure that being together was more important than being myself. I listened to your heartless analysis while murmuring “I love you” as a loser, anyway I am a real loser. 

Is this how lovers feel? The loss, the defeat and the longing of their previous lives, or am I just a vulnerable man? Isn’t it strange that nothing of this would have happened if you haven’t shown all this interest, if you haven’t been that charming while telling me one story after the other, if you haven’t been laughing in such a magical way on my simple jokes. Am I blaming you now? Yes, I blame you a lot, day and night, and not only for welcoming me to the heaven of impossible love but for kicking me out too soon. A loser as I said, if only I can return back to my life, with its simple dreams and simple plans, everything then made sense, and felt complete. 

It has been 23 days since we last met, I didn’t say a proper good bye, I didn’t beg for a hug, I was not expecting to leave, at least wasn’t expecting to leave without a proper farewell. But before our last meeting we had one of these confessions, every feeling and emotion I had burst unexpectedly and I let go, I was talking and talking while gazing at your beautiful face, you were listening with a poker face, this didn’t stop me from finishing what was unintentionally started, I felt the need to tell you the whole story one more time. I wasn’t pathetic, I was stating facts and recalling events, some of them were ours and most of them were mine, but I felt that you have to hear them. Would having a proper farewell help? May be we will meet after several weeks, if and only if your time allows, you have a busy life, where you can spare a few minutes every couple of days for WhatsApp messages. Are you enjoying the role of a “lover-turned-friend”? There is no need to think about this question as I honestly can’t bear not being in your life even as one of your “friends”. Only god knows your real feelings, and if you really oppressed your love after a thorough evaluation, I am not trying to be sarcastic at all, but I can’t imagine the sudden shift. Once I told you that I am new to this world, and I’m enjoying wandering there spontaneously and without any precautions, but May be this was too much for you, too naive or too bland. I don’t know and will never know. 

Will we meet in heaven?

 

Will we meet in heaven? Or was our love a dreadful sin? A war that devastated both of us. Yes, my love you lost too; I am sure that what remained of me will haunt you forever. These are not the words of a mad man, but what happened was way beyond my imagination. I lost myself in you, a total defeat, that I am only starting to realize these days. How can love be that cruel? I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, what is happening and what will happen. Maybe I became a masochist, why did I surrender willingly to someone else? I have never thought of myself as such a needy, dependent and weak person, at least not to that extent. Is this love or a sick obsession? am I really questioning my feelings to you?

The words are starting to lose all their meanings, I call you and I tell you that I miss you so much, your arrogant silence is always there, I stutter, I try to change the subject, and I even say something silly. “I miss you” what is so difficult to understand in what I said, do you enjoy my torturing, watching me fading without showing any empathy, maybe you fear that anything said or done will be mistakenly considered an act of love? I miss your smile; you look so innocent for a second and so before retaining your graceful serious features. I remember how we used to enjoy ourselves, laughing about every silly joke. Back then we were united in a world of joy. Remember how I used to repeat, “I am so happy”? Now I am sad, oh, my love, I don’t even have the energy to be sad. I need a different ending, I insist on having a gentler scenario, boredom! Why not, why did not we both got bored, or why did not I lose interest, or as you said, “I wasn’t at the same level….” You said something that felt really humiliating, maybe I nodded then, I could not even answer you. Why did I love you in the first place? I was content with my life, wasn’t happy, but also, I wasn’t aware of such grave unhappiness that I was living in. But now, after meeting you, I realized that there was more in life than my poor bland share, and all what I did, may be my real sin was that I dared to ask for more, not only to ask but to believe that I am allowed to have more, I believed that I am entitled to have more of this happiness. Apparently, all the gods were raged, and their punishment was immediate and harsh.

“All what I want is you”. Didn’t I tell you that the words lost all their meaning? What does this mean? I want you, your presence, your love, your care…I want what was lost of me in your love. I thought that I could handle the situation, I could live with my memories in a surreal romantic realm till time cures me, but it is obvious that I cannot. Ok, I was defeated, no, I was devastated, now it is time to retreat, return back to what remained of my life. What have I done in my past lives to receive such a punishment? Maybe you and I are happily living together in another life a parallel one, haven’t we tasted the bliss of love even for a short time. All believers wait for the justice of the afterlife, and I love to join them, I will wait for another story between us.

Insomnia

I am lost in this eternal void. I have been pretending that everything is fine, everything is normal, the usual stress, migraine,… terrible traffic, tight deadlines, the recurring devaluations, the war next door, no, no, no, I have been lying, and although I am an excellent liar, but, that is enough, I am drained and I cant lie anymore. I love you, and this love is killing me, a ridiculously slow death. Somedays I want to scream, and on a few days, I do scream, screaming turned to be easy, but crying is not. I wish I can cry, drown that love story in my tears, baptize myself and start a new life. A life devoid of love, I can bear empathy, compassion, kindness, but really, I cant bear love.

I am not even living in a void, a void can sometimes be serene, I am living a nightmare, and it doesn’t end. What if….what if….millions of “what if” haunt me and for seconds I stop breezing, I freeze, and return back to our few lovely memories. “What if” we did not meet? “What if” you were not that nice? “what if” I did not set fire in my whole life? “what if” you forget me? I can not even think of all these “What if”.

The pain is all what is left. It is felt on each and every moment, “what if” we are still together, “what if” I bury this pain in your hug, gaze at your eyes, while murmuring some silly comments. Haven’t we laughed a lot? They say that there are numerous stages of love, the highest stage is total madness, and I believe I am almost there. Ironically three days ago, I thought that the story came to an end, but I was lying, haven’t I confessed that I am a big liar. My world is gradually collapsing and all what I can think of is watching a movie together, I love your comments about direction, soundtracks and how you compare movies, and this is really painful. I told you that this is painful, I told all my friends that this is painful and I wrote this again and again, but the pain doesn’t go away, doesn’t get weaker and it doesn’t even get familiar.

I miss you; I miss being with you, I miss the version of me that shines when we were together. No one believes me, but I witnessed that phenomena, I was someone else, may be the real me, the joyful, the confident and the loved me. How cruel? Why did you show me such happiness and leave? Why were you that nice….then…. and why did you take everything with you, except the pain. May be I have to tame this pain, befriend it or love it. May be this is the lesson I needed to learn…. But why? I love you, and I cant stop loving you. I love you and I cant stop writing about you. I love you and I wish I could tell everyone about you.

 

The longing of the deserts

 We did not sit and listen to music as we once said we will do. Do you remember when one of us remarked that we just turn on the radio and drive without really listening, and of course without appreciating the music. Now, it will be very awkward to ask you to sit and listen to some songs, “it’s a thing that friends don’t do” isn’t this becoming your favorite remark, or even a motto. Listening to music is something that friends don’t do, ok, but to be honest, some days I am not in the mood to play the role of a friend. Friendship is precious, I can’t deny but it’s totally different than love. Am I mentioning love again? Let’s return back to music, I wish I could confess that I still hear music when you come across my mind, yes, just like in the popular romantic movies. 

Millions of thoughts cascade in my mind while I remember the night that we kept talking about  Fairouz’s songs. My friends who know our story insist that I’m immortalizing this immature-could-have- been-a-love story for the sake of romance. They assured me that if everything went well, we would have been sitting in the typical creepy silence that fills the houses of married people. Of course, there will be no music heard whenever I think of you, may be there will be no music at all, the reasons are many, and they would be familiar to one of us, if and only if our live story was given a chance to survive. What is the reward for someone who is waiting for a miracle, waiting for the impossible, waiting for what will never happen, what is the reward? But do I have any other option? Haven’t I tried, mmmm … I’m not sure if I really tried or if it is a bit early to try forgetting the dreams, moments and stories we had together. 

May be such bliss was too much for me? I remember that I used to tell you that “I am so happy… I am so happy”. Did I consume my share of happiness quickly in such a short period or was my share that intense? The short bliss that led to eternal pain, may be this is the pain needed to reshape me to endure the rest of my life alone. Not really alone, as I am surrounded by the chaos of the half lives I have to live, and haunted by our handful bitter-sweet memories. 

Some days are ok but most days are tough. A few days ago Fairouz was comparing her lover to the longing of the desert to sweet breezes. It was a beautiful old Andalusian song, and really nothing can express my longing better than such a couplet. This song moved from the favorite list to the dangerous list, I still have tasks to finish and I don’t have the luxury to pause or collapse just because my longing to you is as strong as that of the desert to the sweet breezes. How I wish we had more time to listen to music. 

Kill the lover

 We must kill that lover, otherwise we won’t survive. The husband, the father, the friend, the employee and all the other mediocre ones came to this conclusion. Kill the lover… kill the lover… kill the lover, they chanted hysterically for hours till I became drained. I wished to warn him more than anything else but I could not, I could not scream or talk or even blink. They came closer, started shushing me, scratching me, one or two of them tried to tie me with something that looked like a human organ. A nightmare, I wish it was a nightmare, but it didn’t end. To my shock they all look r exactly like me, with the same old scare, the same exact features, I saw me, many times, but all of them were angry, frustrated and savage. I was never like this, these can’t be me. I’m the lover, this is my nature, the real me, I wanted to scream, to talk or even whisper, but they were suffocating me with their ugly presence. It became hot and damp, and I felt that I was going to faint, but I tried to resist and keep being awake, may be I can save the lover. Each one of them was stating something that for him and May be also for his audience seemed logical, but this wasn’t logical for me, it did not feel right. Kill the lover … kill the lover…. Their voices got louder and louder, I became dizzy, one of them pushed me, another one punched me, and another one slapped me. My glasses fell, they kept pushing me towards each other while chanting in the same hysterical way. I tried to gasp for a fresh breath, may be for the last breath. Let it be if all these versions of me created by and for others want to kill the lover, let them kill me. I’m the lover. 

The 10 to 1 thing

 

I met a fortune teller yesterday, a cool, handsome and tall man in Downtown Cairo. My city which is burdened by more than a fare share of charm, magic and madness, sent me this strange guy. He waved enthusiastically as I was walking towards his table, in one of the area’s many coffeeshops that sprawl into the streets with their cheap plastic chairs and tables as soon as the sun sets. I moved closer in case he was an old friend or someone I knew, he pulled my hand firmly and said “we were supposed to meet a few months ago, where have you been?”. I stuttered while staring at his face, “mm… do you know…”. He interrupted me, ignored my question, and said “sit down, you are a Scorpio, right?”. He wasn’t really waiting for any confirmation, he removed his eye glasses and smiled. I could not help but to gaze at his narrow deep eyes and the black thick eyebrows covering them. “I am a Scorpio too, and I have a few things to tell you”. He paused to light a cigarette, and may be to tease me. “ Will you keep staring at my face? May be you like it, it’s the result of a peculiar mix, my great grandfather was from Aleppo…” He was the most talkative person I have ever met, may be he needed to talk and I defiantly did not mind listening. Did you say his ancestors where from Aleppo or the mountainous area north of it, but they were Kurds, I allowed myself to be lost in the melancholic rhythms of Kurdish music, and the rich colors of their kilims, as he kept talking. He mentioned that his great grandfather left Syria to Libya, but there was a war at that time, this guy shuffled regions, histories and nations while he was puffing his cigarettes in my face, and switching between smiley and grim faces. “Libya was not safe, so he came to Egypt and settled in Fayoum”. Oh, that mysterious oasis, the near far land that no body really understood its people, who apparently were escaping other faraway lands. In a cheerful tone, he said “But my mother’s family is from Suhaj, she was very tall”, he laughed and added “they used to call her “ semafro el qa’a,a”. After another breath, a couple of intriguing stares and quick smiles, he said, “Im 10 years older than you,” he touched a tuft of his black wavy hair, smiled childishly, and said “this is dyed”, and shared with my his secret for eternal youth. Ok, this handsome man is a pure lunatic, one of Cairo’s victims, he is funny, good looking and elegant, but crazy. He kept talking about his brothers and the fights they have, their inheritance, his sister in low, and a lot of very personal details. It was getting awkward, so I stood up and was stretching my hand to shake his, but he ordered me to sit down, and said, “Ok, be silent, and don’t distract me so I can tell you what I have to”. Ok, its getting a bit creepy, but I can stay for a few more minutes. “This year is ours, we Scorpios”. I sighed in a bored way, and before saying anything, he added, “This year you will make big money” He stared at my eyes and repeated “biggggg money”. I said, “Thanks for the good omen, lets hope and….” “and you have to finish this love story, you were never weak, even if you did not know, stop these messages, stop the 10 to 1 thing, stop it” Surprised by what he said, I asked “what is the 10 to1 thing?” He laughed loudly in a devilish manner and said “ you send her 10 messages and she replies by only one message, right? Stop this, stop it right now”. Feeling uncomfortable and wanting to end this creepy encounter, I said while moving away, “What is your third advice, usually they are three”. The half Alepine half Saidi ignored my sarcasm and said in a serious tone, “the third advice, is to buy yourself a home, a home not a house, a home where you can be comfortable happy and at ease”. I nodded, thanked him with a faint smile and left.

A question about love

 

Accepting the fact that love is recreating me, and acknowledging my pure ignorance I want to ask a question about love, may be about unfulfilled love. I don’t understand neither the status nor the process, may be because I was left in the beginning of the journey. Most people would say “dumped” rather than “left”. My friends are worried, not really worried, but they keep repeating that I should stop doing what I do. My writings annoy them, they can’t see me in these words, or they don’t want to see me associated with such profound feelings. I am still trying to comprehend, I love you, I think about you day and night, I can’t resist to smile whenever you come across my mind, I swear that I hear lovely music for a few seconds when I remember you. I have to admit I became creative with my whatsapp messages, I knew how to drag you more to longer answers, or maybe you became slightly merciful, or could my prayers have been answered and that you are giving my love a chance?

When teenagers fall in love, they are accused of being hasty, unbalanced and immature, but even they complain of its sheer pain. I am not a teenager, although I am hasty, unbalanced and immature, and I still complain of its sheer pain. Nothing soothes me, the meetings where I accept my unfair destiny as a friend, a friend who is reminded every now and then that he is just a friend, may be a good friend, a close friend, but he is still “a” friend. Even sating and repeating “I love you” does not help, it is washed away by an immense ocean of indifference. Isnt strange that after all these years, I am starting to question the true essence of words. Do we say something so that others can hear it or just to release our emotions and free ourselves from the unbearable pain? “I LOVE YOU”, it doesn’t ring any bells for you, but it shatters me, it kills me and bring me back to life with every breath, what a strange feeling, extreme lightness and striking heaviness at the same time, a battle between life and death. My own existence is challenged by this short straightforward sentence, who am I, where are my own boundaries, and to what extent I can unite with you. I feel lost, metaphorically, literally and even physically, totally lost in you. It is strange, I don’t want to own you, I want us to be united, and in order to reach such a state, I love to offer myself to you, to be lost in you. I have always believed and felt that I am a tribe, men, women, elders and mischievous children, all my tribe is surrendering to you , willingly, lovingly and without a pinch of shame. The men of my tribe move towards you with dignity and pride, knowing that uniting with you is the only  proper and logical thing to be done, the women of my tribe move towards you cheerfully and energetically, knowing that it’s a natural return back home, even the elders are moving towards you with all their wisdom, they understand that uniting with you is inevitable, and the children of my tribe run here and there, laughing, splashing colors and singing loudly, who can control happy children. My tribe surrendered to you, before I realize. Now what can we do?

My therapists would say…. But why do I even care, I don’t care about my therapists or my friends or the silent observers and those who cant see me as a man in love. I really don’t care, I love you, and I lost my tribe, and with them I lost my dignity, clarity, cheerfulness and wisdom, if I ever had any. I am not selfish, at least I hope I am not, but sometimes I feel that I need more than the echo of my words, I feel that I need to know that my words are watering the paradise of your ego, that my words are heard, remembered and change your mood a bit in gloomy days. Your love is stronger than me, I am admitting that I am vulnerable, not always, but now I am weak and need to feel that one day you loved me, and that my words count.

My question is, so what? I love you, and then what? When will a lover by satisfied, or is that sense of contentment the beginning  of the end of that love? Does love require such agitating feelings, where I am always asking for a sign, a reminder or a faint smile. Chasing a mirage, is that what love is?

Go and meet other people

“Go and meet other people” that was what you said that day. “I’m yours” I stuttered, “ I feel that I am yours”. “you are delusional, this is wrong, you are not mine nor anyone’s else”. How I wish this was a compliment, but it wasn’t. How did you manage to build such high walls between us? Are you really enjoying torturing me? All what I need is to convince myself that we are just friends, we meet to chat and waste time. So “I’m not yours” I’m just a friend who helps you wasting time. Why would I meet “other” people, I was not looking for love, and I am not keen to replace you by “other” people, and you know this. I am not sure if you really mean what you are telling me, or these are just free advices that are ready for consumption.

 “Face the reality” that was what you said, but was there anything real about us. Everything was surreal, how we met, how I loved you and how you decided to control your feelings. I am facing the reality every day, right now, I am swallowed by a massive abyss of love. It hurts, yes , love hurts. I love you and I want to call you and say “I love you”. I have never thought about these things before. What is the significance of informing someone that you love him? Specially that he will either keep silent, or give a long lecture in logic, responsibilities and how feelings are controlled. So how can I control my feeling? I need a practical tip here, how can I control that strong feeling of love? Ok, I understand that I should not call or send a message…… I am not sure that I will be able to do this. I think that a message will be sent, or even a phone call where I will say anything except what I really want to say “I love you”.

I blame myself millions of times everyday, I suffocated you, you panicked, I pushed you, you panicked, I bored you and you panicked. Who would bear the continuous recurring never ending pestering of a lunatic, a middle-aged man who was suddenly struck by love? I did not act as a middle-aged man, there was not a single inch of wisdom or even sensibility, but rather a needy restless teenager. I blame myself for ruining the whole story, pulling the end too fast, and exposing all my feelings too early. But I have never been in that realm before, never knew how these tactics are decided and how can a lover stick to a plan. I screamed “I love you” many times more than I should have done, but I was hit by strong crude splashes of love. I have told you these things many times before, but I can’t stop repeating myself, I can not let our story, my story be forgotten.