Put a lebanese in your life, yalla!!!

I'm sure there must be "normal" lebanese guys... but I happen not to know any. I find too many similarities among the ones I've met. So self assured, so loud, so proud of being lebanese with that happy go lucky womanizer attitude... they usually suck. When I first met C I didn't feel particularly attracted to him but after a couple of hours, when we were sitting together in the meeting room I caught myself staring at his beautiful and big hands (with a wedding ring) and at his big arms. He's not specially hot, but there's something really manly about him, very appealing. As I started dealing with him I liked him even more. Intelligent guy, same sense of humour as me. I enjoyed his company, I liked working with him and I know he felt the same about me. A special bond was created between us related to this project issue, but I liked it even if it was only professional. We shared a secret and it was our secret like he remarked. His first sms were strictly professional, but as days went by, sms became more personal. While we were working we made all the breaks together But..... he was married, so It was out of the question (the good thing is that I didn't lie about my boyfriend, for a change). By the time we had a free evening and we went out for a drink I was totally lost. I wanted him. He's intelligent, and I've always found intelligent guys totally sexy. I just can't resist an intelligent man if he knows how to play me. He told me he was missing his son badly. So that left me with my feet on the ground. Married, with a small baby, so stop thinking nonsense, I told to myself. However, I could feel he wanted me too. Sometimes I thought it was my imagination, but now that I think about it, it was obvious that sexual tension was increasing day by day. Our attitude, our conversations, the moments we spent together, our private coffee breaks. It was him the first to suggest to get rid of our colleague and meet alone, just the two of us. I told him we just couldn't do something so mean, even though I wanted it. That's how it all started. Teenager's phone conversations, sms in the middle of the nigth. Getting more and more explicit, and getting me more and more excited. He was pushing it, trying to make it seem like something casual and innocent, but it wasn't. It wasn't casual at all. We wanted each other, we had a real urge for each other. I knew he was married and he had a baby, and I knew that for me it would mean crossing a line I've never crossed before, but after all, it was him who had all those responsibilities and not me. It was his problem, his decission and I despise him for that. That reassures me in what I think of human males. He denied cheating on his wife. But I know I'm not the first one and I won't be the last one, no matter what he says. I'm not saying I'm innocent either though I made him beleive I was, once more. I made him beleive that I was fighting with myself and eventually gave up. I could have been an actress. Shame that I found out too late.
C knows how to treat a woman. He's far more experienced than me. He knew I was nervous so he was tender and pacient with me. We had such a craving for each other. Looking into each other's eyes. Didn't loose eye contact not even for a second. I was lost in his eyes, almost dizzy. He was so passionate and so considerate, at the same time.
I remember our reflection in the mirror. We were sitting on a sofa and he was holding me like a baby. His big, tanned arms, holding me. Making my body look fragile and pale while I was seating in his lap. We should get a painter right now, he said, while looking into my eyes through the mirror. He was right. I felt beautiful, and sexy in his arms. It felt so right even if I knew that was totally wrong.
He didn't want to stay over and wake up by my side, because that would make him feel terrible. But that, exactly was what made me feel terrible. What kind of hypocritical bastard I bumped into?. I wanted him to stay and hold me in my sleep. I still have nightmares, and wake up crying in the middle of the night. So one moment not only our bodies but our souls are one and the next he leaves because he never cheats on his wife????. So pathetic. So according to his double standard that makes me even laugh. He wanted to stay, I could feel it, but he left because he thought it was the right thing to do. Fine.

The last night we met the told me that I must forget him as soon as I got into the plane, that I must avoid getting haunted by our story. It's hilarious how some guys think so high of themselves. Excuse me Mr. Charming, did you say haunted????. Come on, I can only feel comtempt for you, and I'm using you as much as you're using me... so cut the crap. It's true that my use of him is different from his use of me. I wanted company, I wanted somebody to hold me while I cry and confort me. I wanted a friend, a close soul, so I could relax and stop pretending everything was fine. Because, even after almost four months abroad, and this frantic way of life, I still experience the same pain inside me, the same feeling of loss, the same grieve. But, anyway, I'm not going to fall in love with your lebanese ass. I can't possibly think how on earth he can be so vain.

I'd lie if I said that I don't think of him, and I know he thinks of me as well. He broke the agreement and eventually texted me, mailed me, chatted to me and even called me, always with a bussinesslike tone, and with a lame excuse. I'm not going to let myself go with this story. I've learnt so much the hard way in the last three years, that right now I make sure that I keep myself detatched. I've never been a marriage person, but this only reassures me in my idea. This jerk should be with his his baby and his wife, that needs him badly right now (he had the nerve to tell me about his family problems). I do really hope that she never finds out about the kind of bastard she has at home.

As to me, I want to move on, I want to get over my issues and live a happy bastard-free life.