Happy?

Lately, I’ve been asking myself whether there really was something as one being happy. What exactly does it mean to be happy? What criteria do we use to justify our happiness? Is it the feeling of being flustered? Or the rush of blood that we feel in our systems, making a thrill go up and down our spine? I’m not looking for answers to these questions, because if anything they are rhetorical in nature; but, I was still intrigued by the notion and asked my mother if she was happy. She spoke to me without glancing up from her crossword puzzle book and answered, “I don’t think the word you’re looking for is happy. It should be content, as in: are you feeling content?” She didn’t elaborate much afterwards; however, she had given me some food for thought.

Content... Are we content these days? The question really allows you to take a minute and honestly ponder about it. One might start with listing the reasons why he should be content: I have good friends, my health is not bad, and my income is passable... But after listing these superficial items on one’s finger, are they really enough to allow one to be content?

According to “Happiness Expert”, Dr. Robert Dahl, happiness is mostly a by-product of our interaction, expectations, and desires with our environment. He also adds that happiness is in fact a subjective short-term feeling or sensation; whereas content is a more stable state of mind. I’m not a Happiness expert and even I knew that, but having it said from an “expert” really drives the point home. Yes, I know... I’m abusing sarcasm at this point. Even though the advice was pretty basic and straightforward, it really got me thinking about the reasons why I’m NOT content, and the common denominator that kept on popping up was Lebanon.

I don’t want to write an entire blog post bitching about Lebanon, but after living here for a while, the allure of Lebanon has truly faded and all I see are the cracks that I had once disregarded. If you’re a lover of parties, the nightlife, going out to meet friends over drinks in the middle of the week, and spend hours over pointless banter then Welcome to Lebanon and Enjoy Your Stay!

The concept of “Time is Money” is wasted on the Lebanese; when they say they’ll meet you in ten minutes, I always add an additional twenty. If you’re meeting Lebanese gay guys, add an additional hour to those ten minutes. In Lebanon, it’s all about being “Fashionably Late”. It’s about being the center of everyone’s undivided attention and whatever you do; please don’t forget to post it on Facebook the next day with “outrageous” comments detailing every aspect of your night out with the “awesomest” people... Because to be honest, nothing makes my day better than having the honour to browse through your drunken photos in the morning. Ah... How I envy you folks; to be so dumb, vapid, and void of any ambitions other than having a six-pack for the summer and achieving the perfect shade of bronze on your skin. I don’t know how one can even think of looking pale and pasty in the summer time in Lebanon; the audacity.

However, the one aspect of Lebanon that I find the most note-worthy is the constant stream of materialistic behaviour that everyone seems to be contaminated with. Everywhere you go it’s a competition to see who can drop names the most while perfecting their snobbery. It’s all about brand names and other “luxuries” that they’ve probably purchased by mortgaging their house or it’s actually the bank’s money... It’s a superficial world based on the belief that it’s all about “being seen” and I find it hilarious when people take their “going outs” so seriously; like anyone actually cares whether you’re going to White or SkyBar tonight, because in reality, everyone is so caught up in their own make-belief world in which they think they are God’s gift to everyone that they are too preoccupied with themselves to give a damn about you.

Peter Pan, the children’s book, is about a boy wanting to stay eternally young; however, even he realized that Never Ever Land was no longer that fun – we all have to grow up sooner or later. Lebanon is Never Ever Land in my opinion, a place where whether you are 18 or 50 it’s the same issues that are relevant regardless the cohort age group: where are the latest hang-outs and where are the trendiest places to be seen? There is no normal succession of mental development in this country – everyone is constantly in a “Party Phase” of life, which explains perfectly why this country was voted the Party Capital of the World; because, other than partying (and prostituting themselves to Arabs) Lebanese know very little else. Oh, I forgot... They are expert bullshit artists; I mean look at the politicians. They play football together and the next day, everything is okay with the world; archenemies are now best friends – a true Disney Fairytale ending.

I won’t even start on the driving in Lebanon, because that in itself needs another blogpost... The next thing I need to touch upon is the Lebanese BlackBerry obsession: everyone has one these days, because everyone is so busy with their “social calendars” that they need constant updates from other people. Okay, I admit that I have a BlackBerry as well, but I got mine at the age of 23; when I went and bought mine, I was the OLDEST there – kids, aged 12, had the Bold BlackBerry which cost 900$... But I guess they are prepping to be future business men...

With FIFA season on its way, the Lebanese have even managed to make me despise football. They act as though they are originally German or Brazilian when in fact they might originally be from some village in the ass-end of nowhere and they probably used donkeys for transportation ten years ago; they stick those flags to their cars and have fights over who is going to win – and I’m like: Seriously? Is this what we have come to? Fighting over Brazil and Germany in the middle of the street while cussing each other’s mother’s genitals? Half the time I feel like pulling over and shoving those flags and those nasty looking hand things that they dangle on their rear-view mirrors, up their asses; but that’s just me.

If someone were to ask me a year ago if I was content, I would have said: Yes; but today, with the new mindset that I have, I see things very differently. Lebanon isn’t a place that allows you to achieve your potential and seek to be the person you want to be. There is no room for personal growth and exploration of one’s talents and abilities. No, in Lebanon you follow the herd because if you stand out, the consequences are not pretty. I know things outside aren’t that different; there will always be vapid, superficial, materialistic, and crooked people wherever you go. However, a principal of mine said (Edgar Chemmali, to be in fact) that we need a lot of different people to make a world; however, in Lebanon there is no one unique or different – sadly, everyone is the same. Very few people think outside the box and that is a true tragedy.

So, the next time you’re thinking about your “happiness” or how content you are; do what I did and take a look around and then ask yourself: Is this the environment in which I can be content in? Let your answer tell you what to do next...

Till then, I’ll leave you with your happy thoughts.

The American...

At one point during the year, I had thought that the reason why I was so unlucky with guys is because most of them were Lebanese; so when an opportunity to meet an American came my way, I was more than a little excited to test the waters.

I had actually heard about American boy before I even met him. See, the funny thing about the gay community in Lebanon is that they get all excited when there is the prospect of a newbie making an appearance in the gay scene; so while I was vacationing in Canada, I kept on getting Facebook updates about American boy. To be honest, I sort of disliked him at first because I felt as though he was honing in on my territory, i.e. my friends.

The first few times that I did meet him were brief and he was always buried behind his Mac laptop, and I wasn’t in the market to look for new friends. However, in November, out-of-nowhere I received a text from him asking if we could hang out for coffee. Deciding that I had nothing better to do that night, I agreed to meet up for coffee. Our coffee became a four-hour conversation where we discussed various topics and I found myself enjoying his company. For once I was having a mature and intelligent conversation, that wasn’t focused on the gym, sex, dieting, who was doing whom, and where the latest parties were being held at. I was excited to see where this friendship would go...

By the time December rolled on by, we had spent almost every day of the week together. Our days were filled with lunches, coffees and snacks at cafes in Hamra, followed by walks on the Corniche with the sea’s breeze ruffling our hair, dinner and drinks would ensue, and we would have a nightcap at a pub in Gemmazeh. There was never any tension or awkward silences; the conversation kept flowing. I never found myself at a loss for words or things to say. When he was spending Christmas with a friend’s family, we continuously texted each other, and I felt as though he was rapidly becoming one of my dearest friends.

When the shit hit the fan...

Do you know the saying, “There is no such thing as a good thing?” Well, that was so true in the case with my American encounter. As we continued with our weekly rituals of meeting up for lunches and dinners, his conversations became more personal and at one point, very odd. Although we had been hanging out, I still didn’t know much about him; yet, he had already made plans for us to spend the summer in the US together, have me meet his family in July and stay in their summer lake house, and he made vast promises of getting me a job for next year, telling me that he’d move back to the US once he was done with Lebanon. Who makes promises like that to someone they don’t know too well?

Over coffee, one day, he started telling me how unhappy he was with the dating scene in Lebanon. “I’m a foreigner. I should be ‘fetishized’ and desired because I’m American. Lebanese guys should be all over me because I have white skin and green eyes!” I thought it was bizarre that he would think of himself as a “hot commodity” just because he has a lighter skin tone and fairer hair. But I didn’t dwell much about it because it was partly true; Lebanese gay guys become vultures when they see foreigners, hoping to have a few “foreign fucks” in their little black books, or they think it makes great conversation topics: “OMG! I had the best sex with this Italian guy...” Probably that Italian guy never got any ass or cock when he was in Italy, but let’s not go there now.

In January, an ex-boyfriend of his was visiting Beirut; so a week before his ex’s arrival, he tells me that he wants me to hook-up with ex. When I asked him why he would want me to do that; his answer was, “So I can show him how over him I truly am.”

Wow! That sounds like an amazing plan... That’s what I do all the time too. Have my exs hook-up with my friends to see how over them I am.

Although, I thought it was more than a little strange that he would ask that of me, I laughed it off, hoping that he was, on the off-chance, just joking. When I met him and his ex a few days later, he acted all strange and jealous whenever he saw me talking to his ex. Hum... I thought you wanted us to hook up? I couldn’t imagine what he would act like if I did sleep with his ex... I mean, he was acting like a crazed teenage bitch when I was simply talking to him... I guess someone wasn’t really over him as he claimed to be.

After his ex’s departure, his behaviour got even stranger... He started believing that my feelings towards him were more than platonic, that I was secretly in love with him. He would over-read the context behind my messages and our Skype chats and conversation. Like if I were to send him a text that said: “Hey... Hope you’re okay!” He would read the exclamation mark as an attack or as a patronizing comment from my part. He even went through my phone once and read my messages. He would over-dramatize everything that was said or that happened between us; his behaviours were theatrical and too dramatic for me to handle. When we did spend time together, he would be arguing with me over a misunderstanding, and I would have to spend the rest of the time trying to clarify what was either said or done. He was becoming exhausting to be around. At that time, I was seeing Mr. Nags A-Lot (he’ll be in another post; he deserves a post to himself... He was something else!) and he got weirdly jealous that I was spending time with him.

When I introduced him to my co-workers and friends, neither of them could stand him. He acted socially awkward and he would drink his wine like it was water. He would call our time together as “dates”, when in fact, they were nothing that I would call a date. There is nothing romantic about having to carry a drunken 23 year old back to the car while he makes obnoxious comments.

My friendship with American boy completely deteriorated once March started. I was fed-up with him and his bullshit; and the fact that he only contacted me when his other friends were busy with their own boyfriends or out of town. Although I was never romantically involved with American boy, the allure of foreigners died along with our friendship. Although I ended the relationship in what I considered a mature way; I had e-mailed him, wishing him the best of luck – he took another route. He blocked me off Facebook and acts like a bitch when we bump into each other at Bardo or other dinner parties.

My experience with American boy taught me one thing, that it’s all the same shit and drama, but with a different accent!