Meeting the perfect gentleman
28 September 2010 § Leave a comment
Lest I be seen to be going down the path of Hend Sabry’s character in this Ramadan’s popular show Ana 3ayza atgawiz (I want to be a bride) where the longed-for husband was faceless, nameless and nothing more than a prop in her wedding fantasy – allow me to introduce my Farangi. For the sake of accurate anonymity he will be referred to here as “PG” – the Perfect Gentleman. Because, ultimately, that’s what he is and also because there may be some relevance to the popular Wyclef Jean song.
[Sidenote: I have to take a moment here to say that the great irony of my life and this blog is that I never really wanted to get married. I recently discovered an “obituary” I wrote for an 8th grade newspaper project in which the last line was “Knewgyptian (obviously, not Knewegyptian) is survived by five adopted children. She never married.” I never dreamt about the perfect white wedding. I never longed for a man to call my own. I do not know how I got here, and though I am not at all disappointed that I am here, my stubborn independent woman heart needed to just put that out there.]
So…I met PG about five months after moving back to Egypt. Our first meeting was unremarkable – I went along with a friend of mine as “protection” and was neither impressed nor unimpressed by PG. He seemed like a lovely guy – which probably explains any lack of immediate attraction. (Remember, I like ’em a little damaged.) But we quickly became friends and enjoyed a good bit of banter, and that went on for several years.
I’ve told the story of how we finally got together many times, and I’m frankly tired of saying, “No, but seriously we were just friends, until we weren’t anymore.” I’m tired of the story and it’s not actually so relevant to this here blog, but to sum it up: there were certain events going on in my life and PG really came through for me as a friend. One Eid – soon after said events were resolved – while in Ras Sudr with the friend who had introduced us I had my very own “Oh my god I love Josh!” moment, and the rest is history. Er, except for the long time period in between that realization and my actually doing anything about it.
Luckily, PG – not always the most discerning sort – managed to figure out there was something up with me. And I managed to get over myself and see that things with PG could work out in the long run, both through a wonderful ability on his part to appreciate and understand my cultural and religious background and upbringing, and a fantastic ability on my part to function on a Scarlett O’Hara-esque level of optimistic denial.
Though as it turns out – as evidenced by the very name of this blog – I guess I wasn’t being that blindly optimistic.