Dating post-drivers-license was a losing game for me. Looking back, I realize I had wasted a good two years with someone who had too many skeletons in his closet (and could possibly be closeted himself) to have a normal, healthy relationship.
We met under cliche circumstances: I discovered that my car had a flat tire in the parking lot of a busy supermarket/strip mall. He came to the rescue, gave me his number, and told me to call him to let him know I made it home safely. The naïve teenager in me called him and thanked him, and the rest was history.
In the beginning, it was all rainbows and butterflies. Even though he didn’t speak a word of English, he would text me all day, ask to see me, and make me feel like I was the only woman in the world. For someone who’d never been with a “typical Kuwaiti” guy before, I was pleasantly surprised!
A few months into our relationship, I began to notice something was very off. He craved attention; not just from me, but from every “it” girl in Kuwait. Time and time again I’d find numbers and texts and pictures in his phone, and he’d tell me they meant nothing, or that his friend had used his phone to text some girl… The list of excuses piled on until I couldn’t take it anymore.
What the hell could this guy want more than he already had? He was from a prominent family, lived in a nice house, was quite handsome, had no health issues…
After months of prodding for answers, his best friend confided in me that Mr. Attention Whore has homosexual tendencies and that the guys at the diwaniya were slowly ebbing away from him. The first thought that came to my mind was the many times he asked me if I’d mind having anal sex if we ever got married. Putting two and two together, I assumed that the reason why he was being a man-whore was an attempt to reinforce his heterosexuality to himself and to his friends. Needless to say, I wasn’t having it.
When I broke it off with him, I plainly told him it wasn’t working out. He cried and begged me to come back for months, and his mom and sisters would call, too, telling me that they missed me and asked me to reconsider.
Later on in life, I’d learn that this was a Kuwaiti epidemic; some men, both single and married, have homosexual urges or are closeted, and get married to unknowing women to save their reputation or to reinforce their manliness. While the thought alone repulses me, I’d joke with my friends that at least I had lost him to a man and not another woman.
Lesson learned: Never jump into a relationship without checking all the bases, the dugout, the locker room, and the stadium. If something seems fishy, steer clear and move on.
Have you ever been in a relationship where you questioned your man’s sexuality? How did you address it?