Sure, we fight like 2 menopausing old maids forced with
each other and ranting our own lists of immature drama as the tiresome of the
gulf life sweeps us like sandstorm. You still punch me with lines that send my
mercury shooting up, but more often than not, those lines make me laugh hard like mad
– well, unless of course, it’s time of the month and my hormones are up. But
I’ll be in my walking stick and a blabbering grandma sitting beside you on my
favourite rocking chair still smitten, blogging about you.
And the reasons I keep falling over and over again?
- You love my friends – as much as I love them, even if I have to drag you to the food court or you have to sit with us for two hours discussing the same thing over and over again.
- You stood by me on my ugly days – we have it established, you cannot be my biggest fan. And on days that my looks are cooperative, you would praise several times the wonders of make up. But on months I wore my hair wavy, ugly and big (as well as my waistline) and even the guys made sure of that, you laughed at the same time but you still made me feel it didn’t matter, all was fine. How was that?
- Being surprisingly sentimental – I know that look you wanting to kick my butt hard 3 times when I took all the pleasure in tossing to the garbage bag all the empty perfume bottles and clothing labels you stashed. Yeah, they are yours and I just offered help when you shifted flats, but c’mon what’s with the empty deodorant tube even if it was the first bottle you finished when you came to the UAE? I know, I know, there’s a retribution waiting when you come back.
- Being protective – at the end of the day, you want me safely home and in one piece in my shorts and shirts that you hate.
- Being my best friend – even if I fail to follow your analogies and the more I am lost when you want to stress a point (I’m operating on a woman’s brain my dear) or I send you a 300+ words message and you say nothing and swiftly shift to the next topic.
- You remember dates and events. And remember the first time we kissed with flowers.
- That we are different – in 50+ and more ways. I’m too careless, you’re too careful, I’m impulsive you’re the contemplative, I’m a laidback you’re athletic and the list goes on. But we are getting the grips of it… while you’re in your rubber shoes and I’m in my strappy metallic slippers.
- Loving me in your own way* – and not the way I want you to love me. No traditional Valentine’s dates or that new-couple-honeymoon-stage, no matching outfits on a movie date, mobile uploads or patented terms of endearment, but in your own ways - pure, sweet and sincere.
- Your mom – we’re not shopping buddies (well, not yet ;-)), we don’t spend prepaid cards to exchange cooking tips and gossips, but she raised you well and treats me nicely and with respect even if I wear mini skirts and shoulder-length earrings in my younger days or my outfits used to be out of place at your family dinners.
- You’re admirably a man of faith.
* Assuming it's love, Babe.
