Everything you shouldnt be

Listening to : more Fairooz, "Ya Teer". Wow!

ok well i should have posted this journal some other day but since i dont have a computer in cairo and i'm messing around on my parents' new pc i thought i might as well.
so here goes.

Last tuesday i was sweating on the college treadmill, secretly feeling like a dork for working out on campus even though im a graduate and had sorta vowed to never go back but thank god noone heard me vow out loud so the only person who's smaning is me. ANyway, a guy walks into the gym to take a basketball from the locker, and i dont really pay much attention except an acknowledgement of his fine shoulders (what is WITH me and shoulders??)
then i think nothing more till i'm on the matt doing situps and he saunters over and asks me what machines in the gym work out the abs. Somewhat baffled that a stranger is talking to a sweaty-stinky me, i point out a machine that turns out to be for the chest so i feel very not clever.
then somehow we get talking, and the guy just doesnt shut up.
Wow, i think. this is a first. i've actually met someone who talks more than me, AND he's male.
maybe he's gay?

he talks, and talks, AND TALKS, about everything from female weightlifters to his crazy grandma to his friends to the french chick he used to get high with to his favorite spaghetti dish, and i'm sitting there, trying to look cute and attractive in a sweaty baggy tshirt and a shiny forehead, nodding every two seconds and trying to slip a word in here and there.
you know, just so he doesnt think i'm quiet or something.
One and a half hours later of him talking and me stretching, i get up and tell him i need to leave (i had to go cook and clean-yay me) so then he took my number and said he'd like to take me out for lunch sometime.
i skip home on a high, and decide on going to the gym on a daily basis.
Three hours later, he calls me.

i think, oooookay. but then again i follow the universal male principal about them calling next week when they really mean tomorow, so i was just a little surprised. He talks his head off while i cut up the vegetables and stir fry the chicken, and catch him saying something about how we seem to have a great connection, and i wonder has it been centuries since i was last on the dating scene and have the rules changed?
next day we meet up and he wants to take me to the four seasons. i freak out and flatout refuse.
I know several females who would gladly kill me to go instead, but dont you think the four seasons is, well, too fancy for a first date?
so we end up going to fridays', his choice not mine, even though i suggested chilli's, and we spend four hours talking.
it's fun, it's great, and there are so many things i like about him: the fact that he loves his family and cant stop talking about them or his friends, the fact that he's religious and is not afraid to talk about it (a total first for me in terms of dates), the fact that he's an ex-pothead so has the whole healthy fit life thing going out. oh and he loves cats.
perfect right?
right.

then i start to pick up on things, such as the fact that ive spent most of the time quiet, and this in itself is a bad sign, and the fact that he doesnt seem to listen when i talk, which makes me shut up more and makes him talk more. Then there's the way he talks; in a very white-boy-trying-to-be-black-way, sprucing every sentence with yeeeah and deaaaamn and allrriiiight and shiiiiit, which makes me feel like i'm sitting with Lil'john, which is NOT attractive.Or the fact that he tries to order for me and tell me what i want when i'm really old enough to read a menu, thank you very much.

then, when he notices i'm not talking, he asks me questions, like :"So do you like hickies?"
i just look at him and think 'What?!'

i'm a private person, and a stranger i've met 24 hours ago should not really ask me that stuff, so i try to change the subject and then when he persists i answer no , i prefer nuzzling, and he keeps finding excuses to touch my hand, and i know i'm attracted to him, but somehow things are going too fast for me...

he walks me to work, he asks me if i've had fun, i leave, he holds my hand a little too long, and then i walk into the office with a smug smile on my face because i have to face it, he is gorgeous, and it's been ages since something this hot has tried hard to impress me.
one hour later, he calls me.

i have nothing to say, because we've just spent four hours together, he says: "do you miss me?" and calls me a princess, something he did several times during the date and i had repeatedly told him not to.
If you knew me, calling me a princess, a doll, a barbie, is a joke, and an insult. i haven't worked my whole life to make something better of myself to have someone insinuate i'm some fragile spoilt piece of art sitting at home waiting for her prince to come.
But i dont say that.
He says he'll call me later.
i think he means the next day.
He calls me at four AM.
i freak out.
But i dont answer.
He calls me the next day and i give him shit as polite as i can.
"i just wanted to tell you that i smoked up last night but it was the last time, i just wanted you to know that," he said.
It's none of my business what he does with his life; frankly i couldnt care less.

Then he asks me what i'm doing that night and i say we're thinking of going to the jazz club, and he says oh but theres alcohol there how can you go there when ramadan is so close, and he starts to give me a lecture, this dude i met two days ago.
i listen, and even though he has a point, i get really mad, dont need some stranger's advice, etc.
So i tell him i need to finish work, and hang up.
that night he calls me three times.
i dont pick up.
i go to ali's place and have a blast.

the next day i'm in a good mood so i decide to try and talk to him and explain that his behaviour is stalker-like.
He calls me and asks me if i went to jazz club, and i say yes, and he says "after everything i told you? how could you?"
and inside of me there are five cannibals licking their spears around a bonfire, but i stay cool and ignore his comment.

Then he starts to tell me about how his friend is coming over to smoke up one last time again, and at this point the cannibals start yelling, and i realise this boy is one hell of a hypochrite who thinks he has the right to preach but wont practise himself, and that is the biggest turn off.
So i politely tell him ismalla aleek which is arabic for people in glass houses should not throw stones.
He laughs and asks me what i'm doing tonight and i say some party, he says who's going to be there, who are you going to dance with, is there one guy you're going to dance with more than others, is there anyone you're going to be talking to or hanging out with more than the others and i say, through gritted, cannibal-sharpened teeth, "What kind of a question is that?"

He asks "Can i call you over the weekend?"
i say "i think i will be very busy with the family and stuff"
he says "so where's this party?"
i say "i have to go."
i go to the party.
i dance all night, we eat pizza, Ali jokes around with me and mariam, and when i go check my phone, i find five missed calls.

Seriously, what was he thinking?
when i dont answer the second and third time, does he think he will get through to me on the 17th time?
apparently he's missing the i-dont-want-to-act-too-desperate-gene.

but seriously.
Now i'm a bit paranoid about answering uknown numbers, and i'm wary of going to the gym, in case he might walk in, and part of me is trying to reason that hes not that bad, just because hes too damn hot, but the rest of me is just really really pissed.

Once again, God is cracking up at me. he's sent me exactly my list of what a guy should be, from the hazel eyes to the great shoulders to the should-have-lived-abroad-rule to the music (he listens to led zeppelin and reggae) to the relgiousness.
I know he's saying "so how do you like it now?hmmm?"
and i think Mariam is right.
maybe it's not about what a guy should be.
maybe it's more about what he shouldn't be.
and this one definitely shouldn't.