What A Sad Day It Will Be

     I have never felt the way I did about Ahmed as I have for anyone. Yes, I have strong feelings for him. He could tell me until he was blue in the face to not love him, but you cannot change someone's feelings no matter what you do. He could see it. His friends could see it.

     When he was sad, I was sad. I never wanted him to feel blue. If there was a way I could solve his problems, I would. Just like every man I had ever met, He wouldn't even let me into his life.

     I enjoyed spending time with him. I loved how soft and dark his skin was. I loved the way he smelled. I stayed awake when we took naps to listen to him snore. 

     I enjoyed nuzzling his arms; I felt safe there. Sometimes I would wonder about what it was like sleeping in Iraq. I listened to the children playing outside and Ahmed would continue to saw logs as though nothing was happening. 

     He was probably the sweetest person to cuddle with. He was a really sweet morning person. I loved creeping into his room in the morning and he would tell me in his soft sleepy voice to come in. We would cuddle for a few minutes before I left. His fingertips would grasp my arms. I always thought of it like a frog grip because of how his fingers cling to my skin. I thought it was adorable. It made me wish my life was different. I always had to leave so soon because I had a house to take care of in a different town. I hated it.

     I could spend hours listening to him talk. He would ask me random things. Why do you guys let your dog sleep on your bed? What does crabby mean? He would sing. Even though I only speak English, he occasionally sang. Arabic singing enchanted me and I would just sit and listen as he got ready for whatever. 

     I loved everything about Ahmed. Sometimes I saw the grown man. Sometimes I saw the little boy. I never heard him say anything racist. I never heard him say anything negative about my family. 

     It just killed me when people told me that I could do better. It killed me because normally it is the guy that I am dating telling me this. The fact of the matter was that I could not do better. What I didn't need was for people to keep treating me like this. 

     My roommate said I could do better and that he was not good looking. She always thought she was in control of my life and my house. She was a racist, miserable person. She was physically and mentally abusive. I think she said that because she was a racist piece of crap. If I can do better, I could do better with better friends. 

     My mother told me that it was time for a new boyfriend. He left me alone for the holidays including my birthday. He didn't even call me to say happy birthday. I was alone once more and I wish that I knew why everyone treated me like this. I would get a new boyfriend, but everyone treated me the same way. I didn't even feel motivated anymore to find a boyfriend let alone start a new family. 

     My sister told me I deserve better. That I do, but I cannot do any better. Ahmed was a real man and I could not find real men in Idaho. I do not deserve to be treated like this. 

     Once again, I created a profile on plenty of fish. I hated it. Instead of a detailed profile, I wrote on there what I did not deserve and what other women did not deserve.

     I deserve to be a part of someone's life. I deserve to participate in family gatherings other than my folks. I deserve to be told the truth. I do not deserve to be isolated. I do not deserve to be treated like a prostitute. I deserve to grow old with someone and not with someone else's husband. 

     As far as Ahmed was concerned, I was deeply saddened about how things happened. Everything was the same in my book. I would be very sad if any harm came to him. I would be very sad to move on. If I had to move on, I had to leave everything. Leave the house, leave the state, and leave the family. Nothing in my life was going to move forward with me staying here in melancholy. 

     I have never cried so much for anyone. I cannot stop crying. I have been deceived. He stabbed me in the back. His friends stabbed me in the back. I am not going to meet anyone else. All I want is him.

     I have learned so much from him. I still have questions to ask and I am being left empty handed. I spoke with someone on the phone at work and all I wanted to ask were a bunch of questions, but I would not have gotten any work done.

     Are you two married? Married couples do not share their names. Is your husband from Iraq? How did you get an Iraqi husband? I didn't ask anything because I was at the point that I was too afraid to ask. 

     It leads me to more questions for Ahmed. How long have you been married? What does she look like? Which cousins did this to you? Was your family in danger? Why did you go home when you were in a country that you were free in? Please help me understand. Please talk to me and let me know I can trust again. Please tell me good-bye next time so I can move on.