Pick-up Lines

Today, while swimming in the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean with Emily without Scott, we were greeted by a young man whose eloquence and charm inspired me to write this post. He called out, "Mademoiselle!" several times before I glanced over at him. Then, emboldened, he exclaimed, "You Beauty." I'm sure there was something else he wanted to say, but I had already snorted loudly and rolled my eyes, so he turned to Emily who quickly told him she was going to her husband. Yet another time that Scott has come in handy for us as an excuse. I usually use him as the reason to leave visits, claiming that Emily has to make dinner for him or something. When I visit alone, it's all I can do not to have to spend the night as people feel so sorry for me all alone in my house. (They don't know about Fuzzy). Anyway, this experience reminded me of many similar experiences that are definitely worthy of being immortalized here.

First of all, there is the classic "Welcome to Syria/Jordan/Lebanon/Egypt/etc." This is simple, to the point, yet shows a genuine hospitable spirit. I prefer it to that other age-old excuse to talk to girls who may be wearing a watch, "Can you tell me what time it is?" Other lines favored by the many shababes here include "How are you, girl?" and "Oh, your eyes is so beautiful!" or simply "I love you!"

But I can't give credit only to Lebanese shababes. Really the Syrians and Jordanians could give them a run for their money. Once near the Ajloun nature reserve, my friend and I were followed by a man with a pickax over his shoulder who asked us if we were afraid to be walking alone. We told him that we weren't afraid until a guy with a pickax started following us. He then asked for our numbers, which we didn't give him. Ten minutes later, having left him at his farm somehow resisting his invitation to dinner with his family, he ran up behind us. Apparently, he'd realized that he just couldn't let this opportunity slip by him. He informed us that he loved us (well, he was speaking English and the English language is deficient in the use of the second person pronoun and we couldn't be sure if he was talking to both of us or one of us) and then asked for our (same English pronoun question) hand in marriage. Again, somehow we resisted the urge to become sister wives of a Jordanian farmer.

Then there was the time in Syria when a student of mine gave me an ultimatum: marry me or I am going to Canada. I can only hope he found his true love amongst the lemmings and caribou of the Canadian wilderness.

One young Lebanese man, asked me if I'd had plastic surgery or if I was just born beautiful...

And let's not forget the beauty of cell phone love messages. Once after answering a wrong number, the young man fell so deeply in love with the sound of my voice, that he continued to call and text me all night long and well into the next day. While he admired my voice, others have expressed their interest in a different way. Romanticahmad, the email name of this Romeo, asked me to call him as he missed my "sound."

Another common situation is being asked out by someone for someone else. One Lebanese guy came to me asking if I'd be willing to meet his French cousin. "He's not Lebanese. He's French, " he informed me several times. Even as I assured him that I don't speak French and his cousin's Frenchness didn't make me want to meet him more, he persisted.

While I've had many offers of friendship with a hope of something more, taxi drivers usually get right to the point, proposing marriage. One was honest, asking to marry me as a business proposal to get him a visa. Once in the States, I'd be free to divorce him, if I wanted to. Another driver invited me to become his second wife. He told me that American women don't want children, so we wouldn't have to have that burden.

If I leave here without a guy, it is my own fault! Not only have plenty of men asked for my hand in marriage, several mothers and grandmothers have offered me their sons and grandsons. One kind lady told me it was for the good of my soul. How else am I supposed to get to heaven if I don't marry a Muslim man? Also, whenever I see Um Ali, she prays to God that I will meet a beautiful and educated man to whom I will give lots of healthy sons. Inshalla!

Meanwhile, I'm content to be the personification of Beauty. Irresistible in my exotic gorgeousness.