Dear Motorbike-Riding Youth:
First of all, I would like to thank you for shouting “I love you” at me while I was minding my own business on the side of a narrow road in the mid afternoon autumnal heat. For a moment I had forgotten that I was a foreign woman, and you, having clearly never seen a foreigner or a woman before, were so overcome with true love that it inspired an immediate reaction from you that thankfully reminded me of my feminine, alien, identity. Moreover, I am no stranger to similar feelings of passion, especially for pedestrians, and so I completely sympathize with your socially inappropriate utterance.
However, if you would allow me to critique one aspect of your harassment strategy, I would simply like to point out that your outburst of passion occurred just seconds before you passed me as we were going the same direction. This means that you had only seen the back of my person at the moment you realized you had fallen for me. I, of course, am no Scrooge, and would be the last person to deny the possibility of love at first sight. That being said, in common usage first sight usually indicates some sort of eye contact or facial recognition, which then (if successful) progresses onto the collar bone and shoulder region or whatever pleases the parties involved. In contrast, you were brave enough to display your ardor heedless of what might have appeared on the other side.
I heard your zealous declaration first and then saw you zoom past me, as you continued on into the great wide world of Cairo. Before you turned out of sight, however, you must have realized your mistake. You doubted whether you could you actually love me without seeing my face, my features remaining unknown for eternity. Worse yet, what if I was wholly different than expected? Suppose I were actually an Egyptian man wearing a wig and Chacos? What if I had one large walrus tusk and a furry lip? A unibrow and scaly skin? Three eyes, a peg leg, and tentacles for a nose?
You realized quickly that you could not live with this uncertainty, and so turned around while continuing to move forward, all at once holding onto the past, plowing into the future, and throwing yourself into danger. Once you looked back, you saw that I was a foreign woman, just as you had hoped. It no longer mattered whether or not my features could be considered attractive, since they were non-Egyptian and female. You were content with knowing your love had been real, even if the interaction was all too brief. My advice to you for next time is to be careful of who you fall for, since you never know what they might look like.
It’s fun to be young. You’ll be able to experience a lot of things and learn from then will getting older.
Indeed. It’s so much fun I don’t think I’m going to decide to get older at all. YOUNG FOR LIFE!
You’ve now taken the number one reading spot in my limited online time. Move over Pioneer Woman, here comes E Drevets!
This means a lot to me. I know how much my mother loves the Pioneer woman, and I take this responsibility on with gravity, solemnity, and steadfastness of purpose.
How exciting and adventurous, to be young again, never knowing what the day might bring. It never really has to end, the looking forward to what the day may bring, but “life” creeps in and it becomes about bills and worries and responsibilities that are different from when you are a singular unit and it is about you.
It is nice to be a singular unity and to have bills that are paid in a currency that I still don’t fully understand. I know that “real life” is out there, lurking and waiting to get me, but I think I’ve been doing a swell job of avoiding it so far. Maybe one day I and “real life” will come to an understanding, but that day is not today. I don’t think.