My Life as a Foreign Film

Some days it is hard to ignore the simularity between my life and grainy foreign theatre. Anyone reading this should also be eating popcorn for maximum effect.

My former lover is a very sexy Arab man I met while in Montreal. Our relationship had a quality to it that made it one of those rare, special partnerships. We had long, interesting conversations and laughed a lot, we made love often and for hours, he made exotic meals for us that we would feed to each other with our fingers... after two years, his student visa expired (he was doing an Engineering Masters) and I got a job offer in Belgium. Our hearts said 'marry and stay in Canada'. My head said 'if you marry someone so they can stay in Canada, you'll never be completely sure why they married you'. Stupid head.

We parted last October, made no promises and tried to move on with our lives alone. This worked for a while, but Ramallah is a hard place and Belgium is cold and we missed each other terribly. So we talked about how we could be together and decided to pursue a Family Reunification Visa for him to come to Belgium... we would marry and live in Europe for a couple of years before going back to Canada. Belgian beurocracy being what it is, however, we had difficulty making progress and it was frustrating.

Last night he told me that he got married last month and that he's taken a job in Saudi Arabia.

The punchline? He feels forced into his marrage. He has regrets. He loves me. He wants us to be lovers. He has to see me.

Riiiiiight.

I think I'm busy that weekend.

I should come with subtitles.