I fall into the arms of “My Love”. In a mess of hope, lust, longing and desperation. My lips and body catches on fire from his touch and sweet breath. I say, I’ve never felt this way about anyone enough to act on my desires. Twenty years of holding back after puberty is enough for anyone to go insane. He makes me feel beautiful and loved with his words and caring gestures, breaking down my barriers with his friendship and easy-going nature. No one has ever come close before. He is My Prince and I’m his LouLou, his “Little Angel”, his “LouLou of my Life”.
I am surprised I did not feel regret at the time, but enlightenment and wonderment. A coming home of sorts, to the extent I thank God during our intimacies. “I was sure it was love,” he said, when we finally acted on our desires. Turns out I’m not as skeptical about romantic love as I thought.
Months of happiness followed, the beautiful memories, the hopes for a forever, and the anxiousness when we were apart for too long. He is the highlight of my every day in this God-forsaken country, as he saved me from my depression and loneliness while seeking to survive. Being away from him rips me apart.
I finally opened up and feel I’ve become my own. But, at one point, while I was full of hope, I sought out sharing my relationship with Mum, the closest person to my heart. When you’re filled with love, you want to share it with the world, especially those dearest. I long to shout out loud that I’ve finally found someone, a kind and loving partner to share a life with as an independent being.
My naive request was met with fear and anger from ‘My Love”, due to the Muslim woman/Christian man dilemma. We can never easily be together in this judgmental and religiously patriarchal society. I told him that I didn’t care, that it’s my choice who I love and desire.
In the end, we held on in silence. I feared him pulling away, loosing him, and retreated my worries. He scared me by saying Mum will take me away from him, even though I thought she was the most understanding person in the world.
Just a week after the start of our relationship, our emotions are becoming stronger. I believe he thought time will fade out our love and desire due to our harsh realities, but the fantasies are winning over. I am fine with enjoying the moment and whatever time we had together, but his constant fantasies of me being his wife and building a life together is filling me with hope due to the naivety of first love and romance.
At the same time, I am angry at him, at myself. I’m usually a realist when it comes to love, despite my lack of experience, but he is dragging me into a fantasy world. I asked him not to say things he didn’t mean as it gives me hope. But he insists on fully living the dream. “I can’t live without you”, he said.
We share the couch, talk on the couch, make out on the couch… and more. It’s become “our couch”. My favorite moments are laying on top of him in silence and listening to his heart beating.
I introduced him to organic food. He mocked me at first, until he learned that coconut oil helps very much in weight loss and fell in love with the hot chocolate or “chochotlet”. Tuna salad and “skrombeled” eggs is now his usual meals.
It worries me so much his obsession with weight loss, the numbers on the scale, as he constantly starves himself and then opens up to junk food. Then he complains of severe stomach ache and refused to drink green tea. It’s so annoying really.
His experiences with women left him bruised and tired due to his previous unhealthy weight and other health complications. I believe he acquired a fear of commitment due to all his previous heart breaks. I often have the feeling he enjoys being the tortured romantic soul, subconsciously sabotaging his relationships or embarking on ones that he knows will eventually end in separation…