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.
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.
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