His pomegranate fantasy, my big disappointment

He had what I was looking for: The confidence I try to fake, the kind face of a man with sparkly eye (but not a pretty boy, I’m not into pretty boys). Beautiful hands, long fingers that made me think naughtiness all afternoon. His voice was the best part, a voice that has sex in every word, like he could have made me faint me with bad syntax and the right intonation. This must be why I didn’t realize how stupid he actually sounded. Then again I only ever hear what I want to hear.

I should have reacted to his bullshit questions about Lebanon, instead I just laughed them off:
“Does your mother make homemade pomegranate juice?” (Not that it’s technically improbable but what’s with the romantic search for authenticity?!)
“Can you make hummus?” (nope, but I sometimes serve Tesco’s, pretend its homemade and everyone’s happy)
“Is Lebanon dangerous?” (@#$%%*&#@ – OK so maybe it’s not always super stable, but fuck you for asking- )

Anyway, my mistake. And by the way, I thought he was hot, but I really wasn’t expecting what came next:

The caveman attitude I did not love; taking over my bed and watching me with a stupid satisfied smile. But we were already there, I really needed to unwind and I knew I was not getting any sleep that night anyway. So he caressed my ass for the first time, in the timid way of a man trying to dominate, but not sure if he’s allowed or not, not sure if she likes it or not…And just then, his sexy X-rated voice said those dreadful words: “So do you belly dance? C’mon belly dance for me!”

That Orientalizing prick, that pompous human larva, laying there on my bed, trying to live out his Harem fantasies. He fucking thinks he’s Haroun al Rashid?!?! Honestly I wasn’t looking for an earth-shattering romance, not even a summer fling, but I had no intention of being a notch on anyone’s belt as he samples his idea of “ethnic sex” like it’s the fucking ethnic aisle at the supermarket!

In my imagination, I punched him in the face; I stepped on his balls with my sharpest stilettos while I gave him a lecture about stereotypes and quoted Edward Said (or something clever like that)

Outside my imagination I’m just not that strong, and honestly, I had no idea how to react. I really wanted to bounce back with a witty answer, express with exactitude how offensive I thought he was; however I must admit, to my great shame, that I had no smart, civilized, or even honest answer for him.

I accepted the fact that this was not my Gender Studies class, and that people are idiots. I could have asked him to leave, maybe I should have, but I didn’t. I really wanted to unwind (yup, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it). So I relaxed, found a smile and semi-jokingly called him an idiot then suggested he strips for me instead.

He did, while singing “Leave your hat on”, after this little ice breaker it turned out to be a good night. 2 days later he called to ask me for brunch but I was busy, twice, and that was that.

I still don’t know how I should have reacted. The intersection of sex (actual sex) and gender politics is a weird grey area because we do all sorts of things in bed that are totally unacceptable in other social interactions. I’m sure that there are plenty of girls out there who love to play Sultan & Harem, just like there are probably many who like to pretend they’re Khaleesi. However if it’s a one night stand you just don’t throw your kink out there, hoping the other will respond positively. Specially not “culturally-sensitive” kinks. (That’s the most sugar-coated way I found to phrase this because this guy is still a clumsy asshole).


4 thoughts on “His pomegranate fantasy, my big disappointment

  1. ~You should have thrown a ‘shahhata’ at his face and went “that’s how we lebos roll, motherfucker”

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