February 22, 2009

:: Irony

“ A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife

And isn't it ironic...don't you think
A little too ironic...and, yeah, I really do think...”

- Alanis Morissette


If I had this capability as I’ve been told of picking a few minutes in my life and strongly point a huge spotlight on it, expanding and transmitting all the feelings that crawl in my spine, down my stomach and up my brains; then this little story should be a wonderful treat.

I stopped joining many gatherings in Egypt for a while now. Not because only a few are worth a visit nowadays but I believe that I have gone out of that shell long time ago. I used to sniff around and wait to get invited to any of those home parties, not anymore, lost interest and I’d totally feel uncomfortable in one either.

However, I couldn’t turn down that invitation though when I was called up by a friend inviting me to Jeff, a dear good friend of mine’s, birthday party. I just squeezed my mind and couldn’t think of a gift to bring with me. I always believe that I will get inspired anytime; and that’s when it happened while I was chatting with Jeff:

“My tooth is killing me! I had it removed and the pain is really unbearable with the post effect!”, he said suddenly.

“Doesn’t your doctor give you any pain killer?”, I asked.

“He did but it doesn’t help at all. You won’t believe what I did though!”, he added, followed by a smilie face.

“What? Morphine injections?”, I pointlessly joked.

“Nah. Hash! I am smoking like a fucking old train!”

It hit me! What would be more meaningful as a birthday gift than a bunch of well rolled joints?


It was Thursday already and we were all gathered in my friend’s place. Some friend was DJing that night with good mix of music that actually met my taste. He wasn’t only that well into my crazy world of Trance, Vocal Trance and House; but he picked what could get along with the mood as well. I stood there, socializing with people as usual and poking fun out of any passing action. With a judgmental eye, I kept looking at people arriving and quickly classifying them in their appropriate category. I was eager to see new faces, if any existed, and socialize with some of those I lost contact with.


A couple of hours later, he walked in. I turned my face and looked at this newcomer. Looking at him took 5 seconds longer than the usual, I then looked away and smiled. I couldn’t find any pre-classified category to put him in. He needed a new one: Interesting People. I sighed and went to the kitchen to pour another Vodka-Cherry glass.

Since I only tend to observe and analyze rather than step in and talk, I kept following this newcomer and better understanding him. That far I learnt that he had perfect English, that he was a good dancer (judging his body moves when someone insisted that he’d step up and dance with him to the Latino beats). I also knew that he was a drinker as well but he wasn’t into smoking. He looked around his 27th year with his dark hair and finely tucked-in chemise. He seemed to be the kind of calm people but extremely wild if correctly poked.

When I noticed that he was talking to a friend of mine, I stepped in. He passed my first eye/action test, then was the time to have some conversation. I randomly talked about whatever subject they were discussing. He then told me his name:

“I’m Greg by the way. Nice to meet you!”

I greeted back and we resumed our talk. He was friendly, so friendly! He just took the initiative to break any ice and just let both of us mingle. I liked his way. In fact I acquired his move because of my fascination and believed that this is the smartest and most friendly action that anyone can do in order to break the first time meetings. We discussed trivial matters, but it was quiet interesting talking to him. His voice wasn’t that loud yet it was easily audible in that noisy environment.

Time flew and it was already 2 in the morning. Almost everybody left and remained the few people I knew, Jeff and Greg. That was the right time to take out my birthday gift and have a full internal celebration. I approached Jeff and said:

“Dude, how is your tooth?”

“Fine, I guess”, he said between a wine sip. “I guess alcohol is calming it a bit”.

“Well think no further buddy! Here you go. Happy Birthday!”, I said while taking out the joints.

“No fucking way I was craving for those!”, he yelled while taking a couple from me. “Light! I need light!”

I laughed and everybody came around. Seeing in their eyes the hash desire made me feel really excited and happy that I was able to draw that smile on their faces. A trivial gesture yet huge impact, that’s what I like to exhale in!

We all started smoking, that’s when I offered Greg to have a buff, he just declined. He wasn’t into hash and he looked really uncomfortable that Jeff was having:

“Dude are you okay? You’ll be driving stop it!”, said Greg to Jeff while I was talking to the latter.

“Nah, I’m fine!”, Jeff answered, unbalanced. That’s when I proposed that Jeff should take a cab that night. Not only because of hash, but because of the tremendous amount of wine he had earlier as well. Greg sighed and looked at me, blaming.

“Happy Birthday to the guy! Come on!”, I quickly said, shrugging.

My conversation, and fascination, with Greg grew as we continued talking. He turned out to be an Aviation Engineer who was living near my place as well. His music taste and movies-buff brain made me wonder if it was possible to have something with that guy, perfectly fitting in my twisted world. Each and everytime I meet someone who has the basic attractive points I need I can’t help but start thinking like a teenager girl if he could be the one, by any chance. Even though I am aware that my emotions were extremely rejected by my mind but I couldn’t control the fact that I still have emotions and hope even if they both are dismissed after the first sexual encounter of after knowing the person a little more on the personal level: Greg was just fine that far, and I was loving it.

Fourty-five minutes later and a couple of drinks with Greg after the joint I had, as well as two joints that Jeff burnt; and a couple others by everyone in the birthday night; my mind was rushing and jumping to ideas on what can be the next step that I should do towards Greg. It wasn’t my way to hit or ask anyone for a date but what if I needed to change my way? I might have lost very valuable dates that way already and I wasn’t willing to do the same towards that fine man.

I decided after finishing the drink I would say something cheesy like: Would you like to have another drink together? Like tomorrow around 10 PM or so? It would be too silly but what would happen anyway! We haven’t even exchanged our contacts that far.

“Diiiiig!”, quickly said Jeff while getting in my one-on-one conversation with Greg, “I see that you are talking to my beloved best friend Greg! Isn’t he adorable?”, I smiled and internally nodded. He was indeed.

“Greg”, Jeff continued talking, “You’re socializing well with people, aren’t you?”

“Yeah! Well everybody is nice around here and Digg is quite fun as well!”, answered Greg. Was he hitting on me? Was that a sign? Or was hash and alcohol playing me and understanding anything as I pleased?

“You know Digg”, resumed Jeff, “Greg is a great person! He’s getting married next month”.

ummm… what?

I froze right there. Here comes the “thing”. How could he without a “thing”. It’s impossible finding someone thingless!

“Getting married, are you?”, I emphasized while asking and reflecting in my eyes the fact that I was hit by a multistory van right in my chest, propulsing me a thousand kilometers away from reality.

“Yes, I am”, he answered with a cute smile.

Again, I asked: “To a woman?”

"They both laughed, then Greg said: “No, to my boyfriend!”. That’s when I felt I wanted to sit down and cry. Maybe take a corner away from all that smoke and faint lights and just cry! All my dreams breeze hit a big lifeless mountain.

“Geeee!”, I quickly said to hide all the amazements and disappointments on my face, “Dude sorry for all that I thought you were one of those pervert sick fags who get married to a pussy just to satisfy the community!”. Lie, but I am good at lying. Just like Ben from LOST.

“No dude! I am marrying my boyfriend in Amsterdam next month”.

I smiled, then said: “How long have you been together?”

“Almost a year now”, he answered. I couldn’t help stopping the flood of questions in my head:

“Why isn’t he here with you tonight?”

He said: “He has early work tomorrow and finished late tonight. I just came for Jeff. I couldn’t miss his birthday for the world!”

I smiled, that time, I was thinking about all the trust that they both have in each other. Even though it was a fag party, but the boyfriend trusted Greg. THAT’s love!

“This is amazing! Congratulations dude! I am so excited that people like you exist in this twisted world!”, I said while raising my glass. There went the next day drinks invitation. Let’s have the celebration tonight instead.

As I was leaving, wishing a happy birthday to Jeff and a happy marriage to Greg, I couldn’t help but think about Alanis’:


It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife

And isn't it ironic... don't you think? ”

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February 10, 2009

:: Tantric: The Awkwardness – [Part IV]

The usual dilemma I fall in: should I go ahead and sleep with my date, or am I going to lose interest in him as usual? It turned out to be that this was my ultimate test and never-failing experiment I undergo to better understand how attracted I am to a person. Newsflash: nobody passed that exam.


It kept bouncing in my head: am I going to sleep with Mica, in answer to all his straight forward requests, or am I going to come up with never ending excuses as usual? I quickly ran the silly checklist in my head:

Attractive: check.

Smart: check.

Successful: check.

French speaking: check.

Into me: check.

Presentable: check.

Of course he had to pass my checklist, otherwise I wouldn’t have been tormented about the fact sleeping with him versus ruining this beautiful something; hell, I wouldn’t even have mentioned him in many series on my blog!

His craziness made me both repulse yet made me feel wanted and fucking excited. After the night I drove him to his place and turning down his invitation to sleep together, I decided that I’d fucking jump into the action no matter what would happen. After all, he only had less than a week for his departure back to his life abroad. I didn’t know that the following night he would re-engage me into that action:

“Digg, I can’t hang out. Come into my place”. I smiled, thanks to the phone he couldn’t see the ironic grimace I drew on my face.

“Sure Mica.”, I said while getting off my car and seeing him wave from behind his house’s gate. When I got into the garden, he slowly turned and put his finger vertically on his lips: “Slowly.. my parents are here”.

huh!?, it popped-up in my head. Isn’t he living alone in here?

“Aren’t you living alone?”, I asked, lowering my voice.

“Yes, but they are here because their place has no electricity yet”.

Fuck! I hate being treated like a bitch!

I slowly walked into his place. Magnificent, I must say. Big huge halls, three floors high and you can see the three-stories distant ceiling greeting you with wonderfully hand made ornaments built in. The big brown wooden stairs in the middle of the off-white house and Persian carpets made me want to find the lamp and call the Genie out. I loved this place; and loved seeing him in it.

“Come over here”, he whispered while opening a door in the ground floor, leading to a small room. I walked in.

The room was empty, except for a small green carpet and dust. At that specific moment, I couldn’t understand what was I doing in there. I assumed it’s kind of a shortcut to another section of the house; but apparently my dream ended right there. He got me into that isolation room to have sex!

He moved towards me and boldly took off his shirt and pants: “Quickly! And don’t raise your voice”.

What the fucking fuck was he fucking doing! FUCK THAT!

“What the fuck are you doing?”, I said!

“Come on Digg, come on! Just don’t raise your voice. My parents are up there!”

“NO!”, I said. “What are you doing? What is this?”

Even though he looked damn sexy in his boxers, topless and holding his cock (yeah, I can’t help but smile while typing this); but there was something awfully wrong in this whole picture! I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Strange mixed emotions overwhelmed me! Was I the one who had high expectations and was clueless when it turned out to be just another fuck  to him, or this rush of unexplained and unfortunate events made me speechless and mesmerized to the extent that I couldn’t even have a hard-on?

I ordered him to instantly wear his clothes and that we should move out instantly. He begged me to stay, then he tried physically forcing me to. I was decided and clear. “Just put it in your mouth”. God! Sane good looking people are extinct?

He angrily wore his clothes then, just like how we went in, we moved out slowly. In the car, it kept bouncing in my head what happened. As usual, he asked me to drive him to the old Gym he used to go to in order to meet his friends for a quick hi, then we could go and have some fish soup in Mohandessin.

I tried forgetting what happened, actually hanging out with him afterwards would let me shake those thoughts out of my head.

The night went smoothly then I drove him back to his place. He then asked me to drive around his quiet area a bit, just like the first time we met. As I was driving near one of the under construction houses, I slowed down just to find Mica taking off both his pants and boxers. That’s when I had the first visual of his bare naked cock. I was in shock! That was the extremely last method I wanted to get introduced to his cock!

“Mica what are you doing dude!!”, I said, astonished with this extremely strange and unnatural sequence of events. “Digg, just hold it would you?”. I didn’t have time to answer as a cab was approaching in front of us.

“Shit!!!”, he said while wearing his pants back. “Act normally!”, he added.

Fuck that how could I act normally? Nothing was normal that night!

“I think you should go home now”, I said while pressing on the gas.


I didn’t know back then that all of what has just happened was nothing comparing to what I would see next with him!


To be continued …

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February 02, 2009

:: An Inconvenient Lie

When I'm with you, 
I am taken,
With the feeling that you've been chosen,
What I'm longing is the best thing,
In a long time that I'm not broken,
And I cant be without you
So dont go anywhere,
You show me love like no one else has done yet,
And with the road ahead,
This is the begining of this love story,
Of this love story.

- Nadia Ali.




“Mum, how do we do Crêpes? It keeps sticking in the pan!”, I furiously asked my mother over the phone while extinguishing another fucked up pancake that I was vainly trying to prepare. I was running out of time, and I had to make it good.

“It’s all about the ingredients”, she replied, “make the easy one that I used to do. Listen carefully: mix 1 cup of floor, 2 eggs, half a cup milk and another half of water. Put a pinch of salt and melt like two small spoons of butter in there. Mix well and voila, you have your crêpes”.

“Thanks!”, I quickly answered while throwing my egg-less strange mix I prepared earlier. I hung up, looked at the wall clock: 8:35am. I barely had twenty-five minutes to go. Honey, jam and delicious Nutella were ready. Pancakes weren’t though! I could serve them alone, I always loved eating plain Nutella with a spoon, sparkling some sesame on top. Maybe do some grilled French toast instead? I am good at French toasts! God bless microwaves and grills.

“Two minutes, she said two minutes on the pan. It shouldn’t fucking stick this time!”, I said while crossing my fingers and trying to flip it. Indeed a nice non-sticky golden brownish side greeted me. I did it, almost on time.

8:57 am – even though I knew that nobody ever really respected his accurate time, but I had to prepare these pancakes before 9 in the morning. He told me that his grandmother used to do them and he never had better. Fuck yeah! I can server delicious pancakes as well, thanks to mum and to ready made jam, chocolate and miss bee.

He likes tea as well! I remembered that I had some tea from Kenya, courtesy of some friend I don’t remember (rude, but no time to remember names in this very limited time and challenge).

I prepared the breakfast table, made sure that the pancakes are well aligned four in every plate, topped with honey-jam or honey-chocolate mixture. Tea was in the pot as well as French toasts were on the table: my signature, how could I let it go?

As I prepared the table, I felt that time was going slowly. He didn’t know that I prepared all this: I wanted to see the surprise on his face. As I waited in the balcony, I saw his small black car parking somewhere near my parents’ place. My heart raced: I could almost visualize the expression that would draw on his face: he’d say hi to me, look at the table then draw a faint smile on his face and say: “What’s that?”. He would then go to the table and nibble, that’s when I would tell him to sit down and try my pancakes. He would, and he’d be pleased having this surprise breakfast. He’d also complain about his weight, blaming me that this meal would need a lot of trade mill and a lot of calories to burn after.

What the hell. Fuck calories. Fuck problems. Fuck break-ups. Fuck love or hatred: I would just enjoy seeing that on Mostafa’s face.


I just remembered this moment because Samer, my best friend, gave me back the ‘memories book’ that Mostafa used to write yearly about our relationship. I gave it to him in order to push it away from my sight and, specially for this reason, wanted to know if I was guilty anywhere in that 3-years long relationship I had with Mostafa.

Samer gave me back the book a few days ago, asking me to do whatever I please with it. Destroy it, burn it, keep it or just, in this case, blog about the first thing that popped-up in my mind.

I really loved that love story.


Thinking about Nadia Ali’s melodic voice, tunes and lyrics; as well my twisted mind; it just occurs to me what happened to Deborah Morgan in Dexter show. Because she dated the Ice Truck Killer; she lost faith in relationships afterwards. Her great doubt made her stay away and not try to start or keep on anything. Her constant doubt and lack of security made her brutally accuse Gabriel, a very fine date and lover.

She was lucky she found Gabriel at the first place! Someone who was not only hot, but the one who would totally understand and get along with her psychopathic, sick, tormented and hurt soul from her past experience. The perfect package, but hey! It’s just a TV Show.

I dated someone finally, I tried. I swear I did try to date someone and I did my best to invest my power; but it just ended. I was worried that I was taking a very dangerous edge; since the last chat that we had together made me explode in a hysterical laughter. We had a cold and frigid chat after a 10-days business trip he had:

Me: Hey.

Date: hi.

Me: :) Are you back?

Him: You know I am.

Me: No I don’t, because I sent an SMS on Friday and it didn’t deliver!

Him: Well, I got it and I answered it.

Me: It didn’t deliver and I did not receive any answer from you!!! (this is the truth – it seems that the network is also helping me to screw up everything).

Him: OKay.

-- silence --

Me: Why the attitude?

Him: Bos, plz don’t talk to me again ana 5alas keda gebt a5ry mennak.. it’s over.

(Look, please don’t talk to me again. I just reached up to here from what you do. It’s over!).

I laughed. I laughed like crazy. I can’t really understand if it was a relief laughter, or just trying to comfort myself that I was a big failure (and just proved myself) that I couldn’t and wouldn’t even start a relationship or any kind of love bound with anyone anymore. Maybe because he wasn’t prince charming? Nobody is; nobody will.

I just answered: OKay. And that was it.



I believe what I would feel comfortable with is my actual life style. It might sound repulsive to some people, it might sound tempting to others but, hey again, that’s me and everyone tries to reach his balance. I just blew someone off in his place a few moments ago. His mother was outside (talking about his fetish to do sex in danger) and I didn’t mind. I liked that we said “bye” afterwards and left. I loved that, before I get in my car, asked him: ya dude, did you listen to Nadia Ali’s new single? He answered: “hell yeah! that bitch rocks!”

I drove off back to my place, laptop opened, music uploaded and blog typed.

Make and follow your own rules and never regret the past – I know I try to do.

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