She wrote to me
[… at the same time I miss a hug, a kiss… a tender touch. I think it’s the music I’m listening to now and the Bailey’s with ice cream.

I know you might think it’s weird I’m sharing this with you bas… I don’t know. To tell you the truth, first, I was going to send this email to him but finally, I said to myself “to hell… why am I sharing with him?” I’ll share with you especially that I know I’ll feel like shit the minute the email is sent and very disappointed when I get no reply and even more disappointed when I get a stupid cold one!

It’s funny because the other day I was thinking why we make a big deal out of having a man in our life?! It’s something that we really invented.
It’s really hard to stop yourself from saying things you want to share and to hold back, but I’m trying and it’s amazing how you feel stronger once you make a difficult move of holding back and how weaker you become when you admit your weakness in a way or another like saying “I miss a hug, a kiss, a tender touch… a union!”]

***

I wrote back..
[At least you spoke it out and shared.. I have been holding such feelings.. thinking whether to call them loneliness, need for “wanas”, or pain over the death of a premature love.. it is when I leave the table at Tabasco, go to the toilet and get all excited about casually touching his back as I make my way back to my seat.. or the great achievement of my knee touching his leg as we moved to the couge.. when the gentle touch becomes soo important.. and when I struggle all over the planet, fight with and within, build a dam under my skin to stop the fluid and finally give him a calm face, a quiet smile, high chin, and a casual friendly talk.. as if “I am doing fine, and it doesn’t really matter”..

Later in the night I convince myself that it is better to squeeze and twist your heart, smile over a tear.. hold back and call it strength rather than admitting I miss his hug, his tender touch… and our union!]

***

A year ago, or more, I was sitting with my very same friend in Grand Cafe – Maadi watching sun setting behind the outspoken palm trees on the other end.. In this brilliant atmosphere we were listening to the DJ’s selection of Arabic songs all for Elissa and similar voices (sorry I don’t know the names. You can’t really tell from the lyrics and melodies; what makes the distinction is the video clip which I don’t get to watch). That day we concluded that the best Arabic music to hear is that of Mounir and Hakim where the former is meaningful, uplifting and deep while the latter is cheerful and fun. Anything else is an imposition of weakness and a prolongued monologue of “I miss you.. I need you.. I can’t live with out you.. Everything around me is falling.. I wish you would come back for a second.. I am waiting for you” where especially women singers are portrayed very fragile, soft and helpless with an exception of Shereen.

But it isn’t only the music.. It is our expectations of life and our perceptions of ‘good’, ‘best’ and ‘ideal’.. My friend thought at some point in her life that needing a man is something we invented.. And I thought that love is all about need.. and sometimes a need to give rather than take.. The fact is, you can always theorize and visionize (verbs I just invented) only when you are out of it.. But once you are in, you just keep struggling with the rise and falls.. And in all casses, I strongly recommend Aloo.. This song has a magical effect on me.. It can change my mood in seconds.. so دقي يا مزيكا