You've been J**gd'd!
The following vignettes is what happens when one becomes morally de-centered
Scene (1)
Me sitting in trendy restaurant in our 'little Manhattan', with a cheeky British lad, engaged to be married, sipping Gin Tonic, heady with the intoxicating mixture, trying desperately to make sense of the semiotic nightmare I am sitting in, feeling as if someone swallowed the whole of Cairo history and selectively regurgitated for touristic purposes.
My cheeky lad was not too averse to my flirting, and I had no intention of curbing it.
And in the climax of the moment Kiki Sr. walked in, had a quick look then instantly called me a "shameless, drunken slut".
It did not stop at here.
After explaining that this was an informal work meeting, that my gentleman is engaged to be married, Kiki Sr. attacked me and affirmed the fact that I have zero credibility in her eyes, and that I have no nerve judging her and her loose lifestyle ever again.
She promised to get this little piece of information to all those who are concerned.
I pleaded and cried, and told Kiki Sr. that all that I have left is my reputation.
Kiki Sr wouldn't hear it.
She answered, "Too late you should have thought better before hitting on work colleagues who are married, bitch". *snap snap*
Scene (2)
At another fabulous party, the it-girl of the 1990s, the quintessential player that embody everything negative and hypocritical about the gay community, turned into a born-again Muslim and now desperate to get back to the scene, was shaking her bums in a very suggestive manner as I was making my way through the dance floor, suddenly grabbed me and starting rubbing herself against me!
Famous for her dirty dance moves years ago (shall we say a decade ago? oops!), it was indeed very surreal to see her trying to get these moves going for her again, and of all the people, with moi.
With a history of miscommunication, sweet sixteen heartbreak and a whole bunch of evangelical terrorism, it came as a little shocking.
In the heat of the moment, her butch piece of jewellery (surprise surprise, a chain) came undone, and who but me offers to clasp it back on?
I could blame my intoxication for my sense of abandon or complete lack of proper judgement, but as I judged him endlessly in my mind, and to his face, I judged myself even more for paying him any attention at all.
The two Kiki's witnessed the scene, and once again a whole heap of admonishments flew across at me.
"How could you after all that he has done?"
Scene (3)
Me standing in a corner on the main street, in our 'little Manhattan', and before I make a turn I find one particular gentleman coming my way.
In a moment of sheer awkwardness and 'karma-will-bite-you-in-the-ass' feeling, I judged myself, "slut", I said.
"What the f*ck was I thinking?"
This particular sunny gentleman, filled with joie de vivre and a certain chutzpah came from far away lands, across many oceans to our magical Cairo and Fate had it that we meet and although the word "chemistry" is generally over-stated, borderline cliché, but I have to say there is a certain serendipitous element of compatibility that seem to exist with some people and seems to be completely absent with others.
In this case it was very much present.
And gestures, movements, actions seem to float so effortlessly, never forced or contrived.
In spite of the fact that I have preached the doctrine of self-control and ladylike behaviour for the longest time and earned the reputation of the celibate spinster, all that seem to dissolve before my eyes and my so-called sound judgement.
And I looked in my gentleman in the eye and said, 'Mama always told me, no man likes something he had too easy'.
He kindly dismissed my fears, but what irony.
I believe our "encounter" was not all that unpleasant, but if he doesn't call you back....
The that means something.
And if you see him a few days later prancing around 'little Manhattan' with some pretentious queen with the wrong shades, then you know screwed up.
"How could I, after all that I have done?"
Scene (1)
Me sitting in trendy restaurant in our 'little Manhattan', with a cheeky British lad, engaged to be married, sipping Gin Tonic, heady with the intoxicating mixture, trying desperately to make sense of the semiotic nightmare I am sitting in, feeling as if someone swallowed the whole of Cairo history and selectively regurgitated for touristic purposes.
My cheeky lad was not too averse to my flirting, and I had no intention of curbing it.
And in the climax of the moment Kiki Sr. walked in, had a quick look then instantly called me a "shameless, drunken slut".
It did not stop at here.
After explaining that this was an informal work meeting, that my gentleman is engaged to be married, Kiki Sr. attacked me and affirmed the fact that I have zero credibility in her eyes, and that I have no nerve judging her and her loose lifestyle ever again.
She promised to get this little piece of information to all those who are concerned.
I pleaded and cried, and told Kiki Sr. that all that I have left is my reputation.
Kiki Sr wouldn't hear it.
She answered, "Too late you should have thought better before hitting on work colleagues who are married, bitch". *snap snap*
Scene (2)
At another fabulous party, the it-girl of the 1990s, the quintessential player that embody everything negative and hypocritical about the gay community, turned into a born-again Muslim and now desperate to get back to the scene, was shaking her bums in a very suggestive manner as I was making my way through the dance floor, suddenly grabbed me and starting rubbing herself against me!
Famous for her dirty dance moves years ago (shall we say a decade ago? oops!), it was indeed very surreal to see her trying to get these moves going for her again, and of all the people, with moi.
With a history of miscommunication, sweet sixteen heartbreak and a whole bunch of evangelical terrorism, it came as a little shocking.
In the heat of the moment, her butch piece of jewellery (surprise surprise, a chain) came undone, and who but me offers to clasp it back on?
I could blame my intoxication for my sense of abandon or complete lack of proper judgement, but as I judged him endlessly in my mind, and to his face, I judged myself even more for paying him any attention at all.
The two Kiki's witnessed the scene, and once again a whole heap of admonishments flew across at me.
"How could you after all that he has done?"
Scene (3)
Me standing in a corner on the main street, in our 'little Manhattan', and before I make a turn I find one particular gentleman coming my way.
In a moment of sheer awkwardness and 'karma-will-bite-you-in-the-ass' feeling, I judged myself, "slut", I said.
"What the f*ck was I thinking?"
This particular sunny gentleman, filled with joie de vivre and a certain chutzpah came from far away lands, across many oceans to our magical Cairo and Fate had it that we meet and although the word "chemistry" is generally over-stated, borderline cliché, but I have to say there is a certain serendipitous element of compatibility that seem to exist with some people and seems to be completely absent with others.
In this case it was very much present.
And gestures, movements, actions seem to float so effortlessly, never forced or contrived.
In spite of the fact that I have preached the doctrine of self-control and ladylike behaviour for the longest time and earned the reputation of the celibate spinster, all that seem to dissolve before my eyes and my so-called sound judgement.
And I looked in my gentleman in the eye and said, 'Mama always told me, no man likes something he had too easy'.
He kindly dismissed my fears, but what irony.
I believe our "encounter" was not all that unpleasant, but if he doesn't call you back....
The that means something.
And if you see him a few days later prancing around 'little Manhattan' with some pretentious queen with the wrong shades, then you know screwed up.
"How could I, after all that I have done?"
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