What if...?

Carrie Bradshaw sits at the table, with her three best friends, and tearfully asks, "I woke up this morning and thought, 'What if I hadn't had met you?'". The scene chokes me up everytime. Then it got me to thinking, there are probably 3 major points in my life where I think, if fate had not thrown these in my path, as fate had allowed Carrie to meet her 3 soulmates, what would have happened to my life? Here goes:

1. What if I had never done a masters? For me, that was a huge turning point in my life. I was 24 and had finished a contract with an up and coming women's college back home. My father had given me the opportunity to come to England to further my education. At that point in my life I had reached a stage where I was incredibly content with the way my life was. I had a great job, that was trying to entice me renew my contract, I had (and still do) wonderful friends and a great social life, and I had a good relationship with my father as he allowed me to have freedom. I was actually in a great place in life that I was incredibly lucky to be in. So why did I jump at the opportunity to go to England to continue my studies? Simple, I would have been kicking myself for the rest of my life if I didn't. I would have thrown away a chance that most girls back home dream of and would have been branded foolish for the rest of my life.

2. What if I had stayed engaged? I don't know a single (Arab/semi Arab) girl who has not been engaged or been set up in an arranged marriage at some point or another. No matter how independent they are or how 'open minded' and Westernised they consider themselves to be, at one point or another they WILL contemplate an arranged marriage, and at some point they will give in. In my case it was the fact that I trusted my mother and because I'd heard so many 'good' things said about this particular guy. He wasn't my type at all, but I wanted to give him a chance because he was apparently your typical 'good' guy who was just looking to settle down. I know I say this to everyone, but it doesn't make it any less true when I say that there was nothing wrong with him. He never treated me badly or unkind. He was generous, sweet and very well mannered. What was worse was that his mother was (and still is) a wonderful person, who I got on with incredibly well (still do). The problem was with me. My heart wasn't completely in it and I wasn't ready to settle down. I liked him, he was a good person, he would have done everything to make me happy, I know, but I just didn't feel enough for him to think I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. My family and friends told me that the love would 'come afterwards'. I'd be told the different stories of how someone's friend had gotten married to a guy she couldn't stand to look at on her wedding day, but they now have 3 kids and she's incredibly happy she stuck with him. Stuck with him? Are you kidding?

I actually do have a cousin who kind of went through that. When I went to see her we spoke about how I felt about things. She said to me that she gave her husband a chance because she'd been told he was a good guy. But she said that she didn't feel that kind of spark or excitment during their engagement. She said that things blossomed after they got married and she told me just how wonderful he was. She said that if you're willing to take the risk, then you could be happy. Although I appreciated her honesty, I also had to appreciate just how lucky she was as well. It was a GAMBLE she had taken. What if the love never came? What if one day she woke up and decided she'd had enough and just wanted to smother him? How could she sleep with a guy who she wasn't completely heartfelt about? What about those annoying habits he must have had? How much jarring on her nerves could she take before she'd want to take a cleaver to his head? I wasn't ready to gamble the rest of my life, to promise a commitment to someone I wasn't sure I wanted to be with. To promise someone I would love and cherish them even though there was a possibility that that might not have been true.

After almost two years of being together, I did the honorable thing and told my fiance it was off. He was heartbroken, and he tried many times to convince me to give him another chance. But I told him he was better of without me and should be with someone who would truly appreciate him. Now though, I wonder what it would have been like. I don't think things would have grown. I would have numbed myself from everything and just fallen into the role of dutiful wife. I don't think I want to contemplate how I'd be if I'd had kids, for some reason that just doesn't compute. It wouldn't have killed my spirit, but it would have dulled me.

3. What if my brother hadn't passed away? It's painful and sinful to ask God why my brother died so young. It's even worse to think back on how for a whole month, as you watch his illness take over, you asked yourself, was this going to be terminal? Then chastise yourself for thinking something so stupid. I tell everyone, 'You would have loved my brother.' Everyone did. He was outgoing, funny, clownish and used his gangly features to get a laugh out of people. He had a temper on him, but he had such a soft and vulnerable side that makes me wish I hugged him more. I can't talk about him without mentioning a funny story of some sort. Although I don't know how my life would have turned out if he was still alive, but I know that half the things that happened would never have been. I would never have been engaged, I would never have met people who I thought were friends who ended up being my worst nightmare, I wouldn't have come to England, I wouldn't have done a masters or PhD. I wouldn't have met T-shirt man, Bus Driver, Architect. Would I ever have met Iris, Lulwa or Seroo? I honestly don't know how life would have turned out.

All I know is, everything happens for a reason. You are tested in many ways. It all just depends on how you handle them and how you react afterwards. Fate is not throwing yourself to the lions and saying there was nothing you could do about it.

Retail therapy: bad for the wallet, good for the soul

So basically GBL and I spent one incredible night together. I wore a fitted black dress (so fitted it looked painted on) with diamante heels and gradually through the evening his arm was getting more comfortable around his waist. We had an amazing time, I loved it, I didn't do the typical chick thing and fire 100 questions a minute, I just enjoyed the moment (and so glad I did now).

Two days later I get a call from him, being evasive and talking trivialities. I couldn't bare his tip-toeing any longer and just decided to get to the point in the kindest way possible. So I gently asked him, "What's on your mind?" I don't think he was quite expecting this, but I'm hoping that at this point he realises that I don't act like most girls as I hate to do the norm. He became profusely apologetic and took all the blame for what had happened the night before. He apologised for his behaviour and for leading me on. It DID knock the wind out of me and because of the shock I really couldn't respond, which probably worked to both our favours as I saved him from the potential abuse I could have hurled at him, which would have soured our friendship. Instead I injected humour into the situation and tried to make little quips when I found my voice. I'm guessing at this point he really could not believe his luck that he could have been let off so easily. If I'm to be truly honest at this point it was because I'd left quite a bit of money with him and I didn't want to lose it!

After the phone call had ended, I was incredibly angry and upset. How could he have been sorry for what had happened? I treasured that moment, then he came and p!$ed all over it in spectacular fashion! No, I wouldn't let him do this. I'd make him sorry that he'd done this to me... and so forth. In all honesty, I realised the only thing hurt was my pride. GBL was someone who I had fancied - past tense - but I realised I still liked him as a friend, I really did. The fact that he wanted us to still continue to be friends, for me to not stop calling or talking to him, to not cut him out of my life, hopefully (and I really do mean that because otherwise I'll sound incredibly naive) meant that he felt the same way I did.

I also realised, he wasn't the one I really wanted, and therefore, not a loss to be mourned, but to turn into a friend to treasure. I woke up feeling much better, happier and of course in the mood to leave the house. So I did. However, whether it was down to some sort of deep, repressed anger or sadness, I found that my recently cleared credit card was going to resurface. I found myself walking to the Topshop flagstore on Oxford Street. Now normally I only walk into that place to buy earrings as I never find their clothes to be flattering or reasonably priced. Today, however, I walked in with an open mind and a brand new card, which brought about a brand new respect for the high street giant.

I could not believe that considering it was a Sunday, how comfortable it was to roam around the store and find some little treasures tucked away in the racks, how their bags were actually truly elegant and how their silky mini skirts looked so feminine. As I passed the Fairtrade section of the store my eye caught the sight of something truly brilliant. In the t-shirt section was the perfect garment that should be used as a 'pick-me-up' for all girls whose hearts have been broken, whose self-confidence has taken a hit, or who in general want to show their sentiments to the world. The t-shirt read "I recycle boys". It was love at first sight. That was the last item I put in my basket, and I think the best buy of the lot (I got a silk, mini skirt from the Kate Moss selection which puts it in a close second as everyone knows you need to be tiny to fit into that stuff - ego boost points galore with that one!). When I got to the counter, I realised that my poor little account was going to take quite a beating for this unscheduled bit of retail therapy, but I walked the high streets of London (and Soho) feeling incredibly proud and empowered. I knew that tomorrow I was going to wear this t-shirt proudly to university, to my meeting with my supervisor and of course through the streets of London.

If there is one thing I believe a girl must have in her wardrobe, it must be an attitude enhancing garment or confidence boosting one - ladies, I believe I've found mine!

PS. I'm posting that picture on my facebook profile... let's hope he has as much of a sense of humour as I do.

Love or lust...?

According to my horoscope I should be careful about confusing lust for love and the other way round, that I should look deep into my feeling to know which I'm truly feeling. I thought I did know. I thought I had it sorted and that I knew which was which, I think I've got it sussed to a certain degree.

On a superficial level, I find him to be sexy, gorgeous, tasty and I just want to rip the clothes of his body and do terrible things to it – lust. On a deeper level, I find him to be wonderful, sweet, charming, funny, kind, old fashioned, considerate and sexy – love? I can't help but watch his pouty lips when he talks, when his green eyes light up, when his cheeks touch his eyes as he smiles or laugh. I can't help but watch his hands as he gestures or rests them somewhere, wondering if they'll ever rest on me. Is it wrong to wish that his arms would find their way around my shoulders instead of the back of his chair to rest on? Is it wrong to wish that I could rest my head on his shoulders or wrap my arms around his neck?

Friday night at Fabric, as he stood there in his t-shirt and jeans, I just couldn't help but feel fat. Looking at his t-shirt stretch over his fit and trim body, how as he raised his arms I got a peak of his trim and solid stomach, how his jeans hung a couple of inches under his navel. Could there be a sexier image? The teasing image of what lies beneath? Knowing that there's more hidden under a flimsy bit of cotton material that could be ripped of or slowly unbuttoned? How I wanted to reach out, allow my fingertips to stroke his hip bones, letting my fingers wrap around his waist, hooking my thumbs in his shirt and slowly lift it up to...

Ok, so that entire paragraph screams lust. So I have the intentions, I have every intention of doing nasty things to this man. I've had every possibility to pull his face to mine and show him just how passionately I feel about him. And yet I just can never bring myself to carry out the act – not even the simple act of gently brushing his face with my hand. Something holds me back. I finally realised what it was, I am not in a rush to push him into it. He is not ready to start something and this time around I realise I'm not to spoil it by being my usual self. I always initiate things, rush in, or doing something truly foolish to make the first move. This time it's different. This time I will wait until he is ready. If I'm not the person for him, at least I'd be able to rest in the knowledge that I didn't push him into something he didn't want or wasn't ready for. He needs time and that's what I'll give him. During that time, I'll sit on my hands, I'll continue to adore him from afar and wonder what it would be like to wear that shirt of his one day...

What do I come back to?

So I've been back for a little over a month now, and my sanity is still in tact. In fact, I'm a lot more mellow than I thought I would be, which is a good thing. I think it's because I have my research to distract me that allows me to keep that balance in my brain, and that when I want to relax, I really can. I've seen a few friends, but I'm not as antsy as last time I was here to see everyone because at this point it's my research that's getting in the way. However those who I have seen have told me the same thing (bar one). When they ask me how I'm doing in England and if I'm enjoying my PhD. When I tell them that I'm really happy there, they all then put a loving hand on my arm or shoulder and say, "stay there." That's not meant as an insult, it's meant as loving advice from one woman to another. They've known freedom, they've tasted independance and then had to come back to a life where everything is boiled down to whether you can get a man to do it for you because you sure as hell can't. To a place where there is no life other than work (if you're lucky enough to even like your job), going out shopping, going out to restaurants or going out to see friends/socialise.

Each friend/cousin/aunt who's seen me asks me what my life is like these days. It's almost as if they're asking me about a true love that I just adore, my face lights up, a smile spreads and I tilt my head to the side. Just by that look people can tell just how happy I am to be in London. I'll tell them that I'm happy and that life there is just how I've always wanted it to be, that although it's expensive, it's sometimes cold and dreary, there's always something to do and something to love. I don't go into too much detail into life in London because I'd hate for them to gossip or think I've gone mad living there away from my dad, but they can see how different things are for me and how content I am with life there.

And each time I'm done, they will always ask me, "Will you come back after you've finished your studies?" And each time I'll shrug and reply, "If there's a job here for me, then we'll see. For now I'll just see who wants me or picks up my CV." But they can see the glint in my eye and the corners of my mouth twitch, and they know that I secretly do not want to come back. They know that I cannot let on that I have no real intention of coming back, but that I'm not going to start rumours by flat out refusing to come back.

And each time I politely answer, they will lovingly warn me not to come back. If I value my sanity and happiness, I should not come back. To come back would turn me into one of them, a drone in a society where everything is superficial and progress is at a snail's pace. An aunt, who I have to admit is one of my favourites, told me not to come back. "What would you come back to? A job you hate? Marriage? Your dad? Trust me, stay in England, be happy, don't come back." It's funny how all the women (again, bar one) feel the same way. It's like getting a verbal, loving hug.

However, like this single woman who does not agree with the other women, the men have a different opinion of what I should do. They, of course, think I should come back once I'm done. I ask them why. They all say, "Because you're one of us and you need to start your life here again. You'll get a great paying job, be pampered at home and then you can settle down at get married." That last line always sticks in my craw. It makes me dig my heels into the ground and scowl at them. My favourite cousin and closest friend actually said that. When he came to see me in England, and he could see just how happy I was, his main concern was "and what happens when you want to get married?" I couldn't believe that was his main concern about my life - my life, as a woman would not be complete or fulfilled if I did not get married. How sexist can you get?

I look at life here and I realise that to come back here, to make my roots again, would be the hardest ever. When I was 12 and moved here, it took me 8 years to settle and become happy. Now that I'm 27, I think I'm too old for that. I'm already settled, I'm already happy with what I have. I'm tired of moving and I don't have the energy - physically and emotionally to do it anymore.

So maybe London is my true love, something that I can't bare the thought of being parted from. It took me 10 years to get back, it was my goal for a whole decade, do they really think I'd want to give that up?

*Song of the moment: "In The Waiting Line" Zero 7

A good start to the resolutions.

T-shirt is not out of my life, he's still in it, just not in a romantic way anymore. Things got squared off and for the better. - resolution #1 sorted.

New Year's Resolutions - 2008

I've never really made resolutions before, so here goes:

1. Stop thinking and pining for T-shirt man: I need to stop. The man clearly does not share the same feelings as I do. He does not meet up when I want to, but he will reply to texts or forwards I send. If I come to the games, I now just wave to the lads or we just say hello. No, he comes over to me, sometimes from the other side of the pitch to come over and give me a peck on the cheek. When we say goodbye, he makes sure we say goodbye to one another. No more! My horoscope said that I was in torment over a relationship I had with someone, and how that person is still in my life. However, I'm not sure if I want to keep that person in my life or not - but I should weigh my options carefully and really think whether I can live without this person or not. Twenty minutes later I received a text from him wishing me a Happy Christmas. I need to end my torment. I haven't wished him a Happy New Year - it pains me but it's for the best.

2. Get more culture: I need to go to more galleries, more theatre shows, watch more interesting cinema. My research cannot be used as the excuse as to why I don't add more culture to my life.

3. Make more girlfriends: Making the guest list for my birthday this week was shocking. I found the ratio of men to women was appalling. It's true that because I support the football team it kind of throws the balance a little, but it is no excuse. I have four girlfriends who I consider to be truly close, but that's not good enough. I need to make more effort! It's true that I find it so much easier to make male friends than it is to make female friends and that I befriend my male friend's girlfriends very easily (yes that's quite a brain twister), but that doesn't make them my girlfriends. No, I need to make more girlfriends and open myself up more.

4. Keep better contact with old friends: I'm going home for two months from February. I plan on spending at least two weeks catching up with all my friends. I've spent over a year away from them and I'm going back for research - but I'm also treating it as a holiday. Although I need to make more friends, I should not lose the ones I already have, especially those who have stuck with me at my worst times. But that goes the same for the ones here in England. There are so many friends that I've lost touch with and it's sad because they are people who I don't want to lose. No, I need to move my arse more and keep better contact with as many people as possible (I need to be realistic, I can't just change my laziness over night!).

5. Do more housework: I don't know how to iron, I hardly help around the house - it's disgusting. If I end up living on my own, which I really hope happens once I finish my degree and start working, I do NOT want to end up living in a pig sty. No, I want to be able to look after myself and basic housework skills are what I really need. So I will hopefully be more helpful around the house.

6. Don't always say 'yes' to dates: I was asked out to dinner by someone in the lab I was doing my research in. I didn't think he was my type at all, but thought because of his polite and friendly manner I would give his personality a chance. Not only was I let down greatly, but thanks to his friends I was humiliated in front of a lab when his absence was explained to another friend of his as his avoidance of meeting me! The next time I'm asked out on a date, I'll only say yes to those I'm actually attracted to - to hell with giving the 'good personality' ones chances.

7. Go dancing with the girls more: The nights when I've gone out in mixed groups, I've always had a good time. I love dancing as I can never contain myself around good music. When I went out with only my girlfriends for a night of salsa music I was truly in heaven. Never had I had as much fun with friends as I did that night. I loved just bring with a group of girls dancing, chatting and enjoying ourselves with some good, clean fun. A night I hope to repeat many times over.

8. Go to the cinema with a friend once a month: A girlfriend that is. I had more fun going out with my girlfriend to watch a movie and have dinner, than I did on any date I've ever had. The company was amazing, the movie was funny and the food was delish. I had the best night ever and managed to get home in time to watch my favourite program. A resolution I should keep at least once a month.

There are probably other resolutions I should make, ones that would improve me to a better degree, ones that would truly shape me into a better human being.

Happy New Year to all and may this year best one of the best that each of us has!

Remembering

My sister called me the other day for a quick chat. My 3 year old nephew recently asked my sister (his mum) when he was going to meet his uncle Mo. My sister said that he would one day. She let him busy himself with his new birthday present before going into her bedroom and cry. When she told me what he said, I couldn't help but cry myself. It broke my heart.

My brother passed away 8 years ago, he was 15 and the youngest. He died of pneumonia and heart failure. I don't think any of us have gotten over him, and we keep pictures everywhere and talk about him. It was only natural that my little nephew would ask about this person who exists around him in pictures and stories, he's going to be curious. My sister's friend said she should have explained to him that his uncle Mo was in heaven. But how do you explain that to a 3 year old?

I think it broke everyone's heart because I got an email from my mum. A friend of ours recently lost a sister, and her mother was still in a bad way about it. The mother apparently talks about the sister all the time, and really it's the best thing. People always seem to not talk about these things in case it offends the person, they don't ask questions. But what people don't understand is that you never want to forget. Yes, the memory of losing someone you love is painful. Yes, it is tough to relive those moments and those feelings, but you just don't want to let go of even those memories.

I remember sitting on the couch with my sister one afternoon, talking about my brother. It hit us that we were both scared we'd forget him. "It's like we imagined the last 15 years." we both said. It scares the hell out of you. You cling onto every memory and hope that you don't just depend on photos to remind you of who they were and what they were like. I still remember wonderful, sad and silly things about him. I remember how he used to make me laugh, annoy me and make me smile. I also remember seeing him walking around the house, bent over in pain and looking tired. I remember seeing him in that hospital bed, looking so thin and fragile, turning away from him to look out the window and cry, hoping he wouldn't see me.

I remember that wonderful last summer we were in England. How I warned him about the girls who hung around here. How we'd all walk about the neighbourhood. How we had a big party in our house back home, opening the back garden and setting it up so his friends could have fun playing video games and stuff. Him knocking on my door at night to see if I was sleeping, and not to go to bed until he slept first because he'd watched a creepy movie or played a spooky game. How he threatened a friend of ours that if she didn't stop annoying him he'd marry her, and then going on bended knee and proposing to her. Watching him laugh afterwards when she screamed and ran away crying. His naturally skinny frame. His deep voice at 15 - a smooth transition into it. His phase of having extremely long hair. His annoyed look when he saw my billboard of pictures and asking why he wasn't on it. How I made him pose against my wall in my room so I could take it (everyone had a copy of that picture now).

This wonderful person who people will no longer be able to meet. My nephew will never know just how cool and funny his uncle was. My new friends will not laugh at how much my brother will tease and annoy me. My new boyfriend/fiance/husband will not get to know how charming and friendly my brother was, or how protective he was. My children will not laugh as hard at the stories I tell of him because they were not touched by his humour like the people closest to him.

Before my brother died, he wrote a letter to his loved ones. We didn't find it until we mourned in his room. He knew he was dying and never told anyone. In it he wrote, "Live your life. Live and enjoy your life. Be good to those around you and remember God is there." Such beautiful words. to this day I always think, 15 years was not long enough. But no matter how long it is, it is never enough. I don't regret anything though. My brother knew we loved him. You just can't help but wish.

(God bless and rest his soul)

Why did I...?

For a while now, I've taken to using a self-defense mechanism to save myself the danger of getting sorely disappointed, heart-broken and adding yet another problem to my list: Just don't date people who I (really) like. The last boyfriend I had was someone who a nice enough guy, but I kind of knew I wouldn't get attached to. It's sad to say that, but it was true.

I realised recently I haven't dated anyone who I really liked (with one exception - I was gutted when he wouldn't allow me to be selfish and see how far I could go with it *sigh* shame). I'd been dating people to 'fill in the gaps' or because they asked me. They were people who I knew I wasn't going to get attached to. Sounds like there was quite a list, but now that I count them, I've been on 4 first dates, one of them turning out to be a boyfriend. And now, the man I've been fancying from a distance for two years has found a way into my heart. After just one clumsy date, he's managed to get in. Maybe I didn't keep my defences up with this one. All I know is, I liked this one from the first moment I heard his voice, with the whole "well then...". I just know I look forward to my weekends again. I know that when I look up, he's looking down. He has a smile waiting for me. He reaches out to hold my hand. He wants me close all the time.

And the worst part is, this time, I don't just cling to the fingers, I actually hold his hand. I love holding his hand. It feels natural. I don't worry about who's going to see us. I don't care that it looks soppy. I like holding his hand. I like curling up to him. I like to watch him eat. I like it when he smacks his lips when he enjoys something. I like how he gives me sideway glances and flashes a cheesy grin when he catches my eye. I like how he does little boyish things. I like tickling his stomach. I like how he closes his eyes when we're relaxed. I like our silences. I don't recoil when he kisses my hand. But most importantly, I don't pull away when he holds my hand.

I'm going to get so hurt. How can you tie someone to you until you know when you'll be completely free? How could you tie something so beautiful to you with the promise that you don't know will come true? I know I'm going to get hurt. I know it'll truly be crushing. I'm waiting for that guilitine to fall, and it kills me because I can't truly enjoy this. But maybe that's a good thing, that way I'll be able to reign my feelings and it'll save me from having my heart truly broken.

I sit here now and I've just been told by someone that he loves me, "truly, madly, deeply" and that he worships me. It's the most beautiful thing I've heard, but I can't accept it because 1)he has a girlfriend, 2)I'm with BD. Truth is, I think my heart is just a little tired. From wanting one person who doesn't give me an answer of any kind, to wanting a person I have but not wholly, to holding back all that I really want to do and settling for that 'inch' that I was given.

I told BD, as the sun set on our fun day out, that I didn't want to fall in love. I don't think I could take that risk. I'm not a risk taker. I don't think I could take the pain of when it goes wrong. I just don't think I'd want to willingly put myself through that. He looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes and said, "Why would you want to go through life being dead?"

I'm just so scared - to feel that despair, that heartbreak, that darkness, the feeling that you're falling and no one is there to catch you. Wondering afterwards just why did you do this to yourself?

...why would you let anyone in?