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Uh Oh. I Might Be Falling for the Iraqi

December 20, 2015

The plan was to keep it light. I wasn’t going to let myself get serious with him. I wasn’t going to let him get too attached to me. He was just going to be a nice comorting presence. Someone to pay attention to me. Someone to give me affection.

He changed his behavior completely since the first time we met, when he had been so intense. “Don’t leave me,” he had said, after knowing me only a couple of weeks. He had scared me. And I didn’t think we were compatible. He was so body-conscious and he dressed sort of like a jock or a frat boy. But he wasn’t those things. He was from Iraq with stories of three wars and the experience of being an interpreter for two armies.

This time, he’s slowed down. He doesn’t text me every day or send me poems,  just to confirm a scheduled rendevous or see how my day is going. He still says, “Don’t leave me,” with that accent, but now it’s with a laugh because he knows I don’t want him to say it. “It’s ok,” he says, “I know you’re going to leave me. I don’t care.” Then he pulls me close and kisses me.

A couple of nights ago he came over to spend time with me before I left for Portland. He got me hooked on watching the old tv series Lost. We usually sit in bed and watch it together, but this time, I turned the tv off. I wanted to hear him tell stories. He brought me wine and we sat in bed and I listened to him talk about how stupid the British army was and why he wasn’t afraid when he went on patrols and missions with the units he was assigned to. He told me funny stories about the American service men and women he met and how he managed to get a visa to come to the United States. He drew an imaginary map on the bedsheet trying to explain the politics of the area. “Here’s where the Sunni’s are and the Shia are over here…..” It was confusing and fascinating.

And he laughs and smiles through it all. He will talk about life and death situations and joke about it. He’s happy. I found another happy man.

Then, he’ll ask me if his butt looks good, coming out of the bathroom as he pushes his long, curly hair behind his ear, explaining the exercises he’s been doing to make it firmer.

When I hold him in my arms and run my hands along his body, there’s not a single inch that is flabby or soft. His whole body is taught.

He told me he was going to miss me and asked me to text him so he would know I landed safely. There was something about the way he showed concern for me…..the same way I’ve done with others many times….I was lying next to him, looking into his eyes and I felt an unexpected twinge in my heart.

Shit, I said to myself.

The next day, I ran errands, got ready for my trip and had drinks with Paul and Amy. I found myself thinking about him. I found myself wishing I was with him again. I found myself thinking that I would really miss him the 10 days I would be away.

Shit. I think I’ve done it again. 


From → Rantings

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