5/20/2021 Husam AlDahiri DDS

“Hey!” A deep and pompous voice called out to me as I walked out of the TJ Maxx at the Tower Shops in Davie. 

I did my best to ignore the voice despite it's persistence in being heard over my Beats. I kept walking. However, the body attached to the voice was taller and therefore swifter than mine. The hand attached to the voice reached out and connected to my shoulder, prompting me to turn around indignantly. 

“Hey! Sorry to make such a scene…it's just. You are so beautiful. You actually remind me so much of someone I know. I don't know who though, you just look familiar. Ugh…can I maybe walk you to your car? “ the voice attached to the massive body rambled out to me. 

Certainly he saw how appalled I was. I made no attempt to hide it on my face. Yet, he persisted in trying to speak to me. I look like someone he knows! How many girls had he used that on? The man was old. At least 55, but very clearly unkept. He had work done. Botox in his smile lines, perhaps even under eye filler. A nose job. His teeth were too perfect. Not perfect like mine or my mother’s  though, perfect like veneers. His skin was dark and a bit oily. His eyes were narrow and upturned. His nose was defined and slightly wide with a raised bridge. His hair was cropped low, but soft curly. I could tell from his ragtag assortment of features and the way he moved that he was an upper class West Indian. One of us. Likely one of my mother’s family's acquaintances. We all know each other through some degree of separation in South Florida. Perhaps that's why he found me familiar. Though, he seemed too emboldened by his lust to care about that or the societal consequences that would come from pursuing a girl my age from the section of West Indian society we run in. 

“No, that's okay.” I rebutted. 

“Okay, can I at least have your number?” He begged. 

I don't know why I gave him my number, but I did. I felt guided to. I'm moving to New York in a few months. Why not just see what happens? Why not live on the wild side? What better way to begin my journey of living without fear of my family’s gaze than going out with some old guy that's part of Society. If I were caught out with him there would be calls from Florida, to Canada, to England, and then all the way back to the West Indies calling me fast and faestie. The thought of this at some point would have sent me straight to my knees in prayer. Not today though. Today, I decided that I am an adult and it doesn't matter what any auntie has to say about what I do. 

Joel, the man from TJ MAXX, asked me to dinner on a Wednesday night at 6. He asked me to meet him at Tap 42. I got there at 6 and only at 6:05 did that imbecile tell me he was running 15 minutes late. No wonder he’s this old and single. So, I decided to hang out by the bar. 

I recently made a Tik Tok about Mez that’s up to 400k views. So, I decided to respond to some of the hate comments in an effort to keep the engagement going. I was in the middle of giving User7540267 a piece of my mind when a gentle voice spoke to me. 

“Marhaba.” 

I frowned, “marhaba” is not a common greeting in Fort Lauderdale, there aren't many Arabic speakers, much less people that would figure to speak Arabic to me. Intrigued, I looked up and said…

“Marhaba.” 

My eyes were pleasantly surprised. Just behind my ear and bent over to be heard by me was a tan skinned, big nosed man with cropped, perfectly jet black wavy hair. He smiled at me, revealing a perfectly upkept top and bottom row of straight, strong teeth. I lowered my gaze to see his outfit. Scrubs, light blue scrubs and a name tag…a name tag reading Husam AlDahiri DDS. I nearly fainted from the shock. Here I was waiting for some creep and trying to understand why I was even here and God so quickly revealed his plan to me! I was brought there to meet my dream man. A handsome Dentist of Eastern descent. Alhamduiallah! 

Husam followed my eyes down to his name tag and laughed humbly. “Well…you know my name and business. Could you make us even?”

I was so dazed, man. I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I was overwhelmed by God’s goodness. “Iman…I'm a party princess.”

Husam furrowed his brow and said very slowly  “a party princess ?” 

I nodded. “Mhmmm. Like for kids’ parties, I go dressed as a Disney princess.”

Understanding made its way across his face, then was quickly replaced with mischief. “You're Princess Jasmine I'm sure…my favorite.” 

Unwilling to dive into the male obsession with sexuslizing Disney princesses, I switched up the energy. “Jasmine of course, but also Moana and Pocahontas! “

He nodded and was just about to speak when the bartender returned.  

“What are you two having?” 

“Two shaken martinis extra dirty, extra olives” he decided. 

I wanted to fall into his arms and let him carry me out of there, but I couldn't. It's not intelligent to just let a man know that you're rather taken by him. One is better off feigning indifference. If you allow a man to feel special for just anything, he won't want to do anything without being rewarded for it. 

“And what if I don't like olives?” I snidely sneered. 

“If you don't, which I'm sure is untrue. Just because I'm ‘crude oil’ doesn't mean I don't know ‘olive oil’ when I see it.” He laughed at the youngness of his joke before continuing. “Even if it's true that you don't like olives, you will learn to.” 

 I wasn't really looking at him while he said that. I was looking past him, watching the door in case Noel was walking in. However, the forwardness of his statement drew my eyes right to his. When our eyes connected, I studied his. His were the shade of perfectly brewed mint tea. Not a lazy western mint tea…bush mint. The kind you pick from your grandparent’s backyard on a hot summer's day. Brown is my favorite eye color. Colored eyes often remind me of the scary snake in The Jungle Book, Kaa. I think they're beautiful, but they unsettle me. I prefer shades of brown. His eyes were delightfully round. Like a cartoon character of some sort, but unlike other very round eyes you often see, his were small. Big eyes are far from an evolutionary advantage in the desert. Like me, he had little beady eyes. They squinted at me, and invited me to take a shit test. I, never one to study, decided to indulge without preparation. 

“Why would I care to learn to?” I sneered. 

I suppose my response wasn't very believable or challenging to him. He didn't reply to it. Instead he smiled, and changed the subject. He asked me all sorts of questions about myself and what I like and my favorite books for a few minutes until our drinks came. Then, when they arrived, he handed mine to me. I “cheers’ed” him and took a sip. He did the same. Then, he raised his eyebrows and smiled real mischievously. 

“You tell me why you've cared to do what I say?” He chuckled. 

At first I was confused. Then, I realized that without thinking, I'd had the martini he picked for me. 

“I already liked Martinis! I didn't drink it because you told me to.” I frowned. 

He looked at me and smiled. “Nicely sophisticated, but inexperienced for a 22 year old girl in Miami.”

I can have a bit of a short fuse…I rolled my eyes and said “well this is Greater Fort Lauderdale, not Miami.”

“Okay…you, unlike so many girls your age in South Florida, are inexperienced. I'm guessing because you're very smart, I don't know. You're well off, I see it in your teeth that you've always been well off. For many generations too. I'm sure your parents are very involved. Didn't date in school, probably didn't want to. You don't date as an adult. I don't blame you, it's hard in Florida to find someone that you can really talk to. That's why I'm walking up to you in a bar.” 

Agawk, aghast…I didn't say anything. I was very surprised by his Iman-like analysis of me. Unlike me though, he'd done it with his outside voice. Perhaps it takes a special kind of mind to like teeth in the way I do. I used to want to be a dentist until I decided to be an actor and writer instead. I have wanted to be a dentist ever since Kindergarten because I love teeth. I'd never really thought to before today, but I would be perfect if I were to marry a dentist.

“Do you think yourself some sort of mentalist” I rolled my eyes, unwilling to let him see how impressed I was. 

“Do you think I didn't see the corner of your lip twitch before you said that? You’ll be happier when you stop trying to scare me off, hayati.” 

He put his hand on the back of my chair as he said that. I, some sort of mentalist myself, watched him keenly. What would he do next? He looked right in the eyes, then he smiled a closed mouth smile. Without breaking eye contact with me, he brought the martini from the bar to my lips. He held it there for a moment and very mischievously raised his brows. Once his brows settled, he ever so gentle tipped the drink towards my face, shifted his eyes to my lips and narrowed them. I don't know what came over me…I then opened my lips and allowed him to pour the martini into my mouth. I would melt from embarrassment if I were to spill on myself while he did this to me. I sipped it slowly. He looked so satisfied with himself. Well, until my phone started ringing. 

He took the glass from my lips and said “someone is calling you.” 

I’d forgotten why I was sitting at the Tap 42 bar. I’d really put myself in a sticky situation. How would Husam feel if he knew I was drinking a Martini out of his hand while I waited for another man to arrive? I don't feel bad about it or anything. I'm not married. However, I wouldn't want Husam, the handsome dentist, to think that of me. Unsure of how to get out of my dilemma, I did what I know how to do. I acted. 

“Hello! Yeah I'm here. I think an outside table is best. It's so noisy inside.” I carefully formulated each answer to disclose as little as possible. 

Husam watched me with a sort of jealousy. I delighted in that. However, it was too soon to show him just how delightful I find jealousy. 

I very carefully said “The old man I'm meeting is here.” I raised my eyebrows and smiled with my mouth closed. “You know how it goes with elders.” 

The jealousy left Husam’s face and admiration replaced it. “It is kind of you to entertain older people.

I thought it dishonest to say much else, so I instead nodded and smiled. We exchanged phone numbers, he told me he would take care of our drinks, then I stealthily departed. By “stealthily” I mean that I went to the bathroom, counted to ten, put on my shawl, walked out of the restaurant, and entered the outdoor seating area from the outside. I looked about the patio for Joel and found myself filled with disgust when my eyes were accosted by his skin tight white jeans and neon coral polo shirt. He was a blinding, nauseating Caribbean man stereotype. He, of course, unfortunately saw me too. He rose from his seat and in a rather impressive display considering the tightness of his shirt, lifted his arm up to wave to me. I grimaced and walked to his table. 

“Why do you have a shawl on? It's so warm out!” He exclaimed when I got close enough. 

“I run cold. I'm like a lizard” I replied. 

He laughed a bellowing laugh and sat back down in his chair without pulling mine out for me. Loser. I pulled out my own chair and had a seat, but made certain to make a scene of it. I would never and never do allow a man to forgo chivalry without consequence. I made such a big scene of settling in that the man sitting in the table across got up to push my chair in for me.  That made me snicker because Joel looked mighty embarrassed by it all. Satisfied, I finally set my purse on the table, looked up, and smiled. 

“How are you?” Joel asked. 

Unwilling to be pleasant after forcing myself away from Husam to show up for the date, I said “fine.” 

Joel started talking copiously more than any man should ever talk. With purpose, I didn’t say anything. Instead, I set a time on my Apple Watch to keep track of how much time went by before he realized I wasn’t responding. Seven minutes and twenty nine seconds went by before he paused. He paused only to ask me what I thought of his arms. I wasn’t fully listening to him anymore by the time he asked me that, so I had to ask him to repeat himself. I wish he hadn’t, I wish he’d gone on longer without asking me a question. I never wish the worst of me on anyone. I can be very unpleasant. I was already not in a good mood after dragging myself away from Husam. So, when Joel pointed out his hairless arms and asked me if I like that they have no hair, I wasn’t able to provide my most polite self. Instead I provided my most disgusted self…which was not right, but it was honest. 

“Do you have some sort of condition that makes them hairless?” I disdained. 

He laughed so loudly that I envisioned myself slashing his throat to ensure he could never be that obnoxious again. “No! I get them lasered.” 

I could not see my reflection, but I would have paid to see my face at that moment. To see disgust in its purest form written across my features. I can excuse natural hairlessness in a man. I know many men are just without due to the climate their people evolved in. I am not prejudiced despite my preferences. I understand that some men suffer from conditions that take away their body hair. I have sympathy for that. I can even understand that some are paid, professional swimmers that need to remove their body hair. As long as you're paid for it. What I cannot understand, have sympathy for, or excuse is a man that thinks it appropriate to laser off his body hair for…what? Is it vanity? I think not! Men are much more handsome with body hair. I honestly cannot think of a reason a straight man would prefer hairlessness. Does he wish to caress his own smooth and supple thighs? No! Clearly he wants his Bear to do it. 

What did I think of his hairless arms? I thought them indicative of a closeted gay man that channels his sexual energy into being vain and competing with women. No offense. 

“Why would you do that?” Was the best I could manage considering the circumstances. 

He laughed again, tempting me to silence him. “It’s so much better to be smooooth! I love to feel my smooth skin. I do my whole body! Chest, legs, back, down there.” He raised his eyebrows when he said “down there”. The action inspired violence in me, but I exhibited restraint. “I think most people prefer no hair.” 

I didn’t reply for some time. I was too occupied with imagining myself getting up and leaving without a word. I didn’t leave though. Aunties talk too much, and I was very close to my house and sitting outside for everyone to see me. No, I didn’t leave, but perhaps I should have. 

“I think men without body hair don’t look like men and I find that to be particularly unattractive.” 

That big wet seal of a man made a big gasping sound after I spoke. “Are you serious? I can’t stand body hair! Smooth skin is so much better.” 

“Well, then you certainly won’t be able to stand me.” I smiled. 

I’d finally found my way out of that godforsaken date. I am just a little jungle monkey covered in hair and nothings gonna change that. 

“Well, I suppose if you’re hairless you might prefer it, but I have soooooo much body hair. I can’t imagine being with a man with less hair than me. I’d be the man in the relationship. I have hair on my back, on my stomach, sideburns, a little mustache, all over my arms, even like a little neckbeard in the back…it’s really just everywhere. I even have toe hairs!” I laid it on thick hoping he’d get grossed out. 

He was eager to make this work. “My laser person is great! They can totally help you.” 

“Oh! No thank you. I love my hair. I wouldn’t feel like myself without it. I love putting on my lotion and making designs with my arm hair. I love doing it for like my man too. I love when men have hairy hands! I like to lotion them and make a heart with the hair. We’re just hairy together!”

He looked very repulsed by all that and that was really the end of our conversation. We left after one drink. He did try to show me his 2015 BMW convertible as though it were not 5 years old and the cheapest one on the market though. I suppose in a last ditch effort to get me to be more friendly. It of course backfired because I actually find men driving vanity cars repulsive. I only really respect a man that drives an affordable, reliable vehicle. After they’ve made significant investments and are set to retire, they may purchase a Range Rover, a Jaguar, a S Class, or a Lincoln. No flashy colors. Grey, white, black, or silver. 

At 8:01 pm, Husam asked me to join him at Casa Sensei for dinner the next day.