:: 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.

OKay.

 

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.