In Which A Woman Experiences The Taboo World Of Arabic Dating

Lately I’ve been busy learning the ways of Allah, and apparently, His people want my infidel ass.

OK back up a bit. Five months ago, I decided to pack my bags and move to Qatar. Yes, the tiny peninsula just off Saudi Arabic – one of the richest countries in the world, where Lamborghinis are as abundant as second and third wives.

Some Arabic I’ve picked up so far: Kees ummak (Your mother’s pussy!), Kees ummak bi ayri (My cock up your mother’s pussy!), Kees ummak bi Ras’ayri (The tip of my cock up your mother’s pussy), and finally Kees ummak bi Ras’ayri sharmoota (The tip of my cock up your mother’s pussy, bitch!). Yes I ‘m a fast learner, Masha’Allah (God meant it so!).

Now that we’ve established the fact that I’m totally opened to mingling with Arabs, I’d like to talk a bit about the cultural differences within the dating scene.

Urrr, what dating scene? First of all, there is none. Because dating is haram (taboo)! If a woman wants to hook up with someone, she has to get married, and contract whatever STD her husband had accumulated from trips to Thailand and Bahrain.

Inevitably, I’ve had several marriage proposals.

Most of the time they just want to get into your pants, so it’s nothing serious. One time in Oman, though, a man gave me a complete list of perks attached to being married to him. Among them:

“I would buy you a Landcruiser,” he said. “Because I want people to respect my wife on the road.”

Ahhh yes. Love is like a Toyota, it can’t be stopped.

“And I only want two kids,” he added. “And only one wife.”

I know… I should’ve jumped on the opportunity. But of course that would’ve been weird without consulting with my father first, so I told him, “Insha’Allah” (If it is God’s will) – the perfect phrase that Arabs use to wiggle out of every difficult situation.

Can’t meet a deadline? Insha’Allah. Forgot to pay someone back? Insha’Allah. Can’t get it up? Insha’Allah.

So, back to the marriage thing. Just the other day, I was hanging out at the beach in northern Qatar, when a Qatari man started talking to me. “Are you married?” he said within the first minute. They sure don’t bullshit around.

“No,” I said.

“I can find you a good husband,” he said.

“Uh ok,” I said. “I gotta go.”

“I love you!” He said after me.

Dude proceeded to follow me all the way till I found my friends (two guys), then finally he backed off.

But this kind of thing happens all the time. Which is why so many Western girls wear fake wedding bands. It happens in the mall, outside restaurants, in supermarkets, etc. And when they have to be more discreet approaching a woman, they hand you a piece of tissue paper with their numbers written inside. (Because that’s just so inconspicuous – a Qatari man handing tissue to a non-Qatari woman – you know, so she can blow her nose with it?)

Anyway, life in Qatar is very interesting, to say the least. Before I sign off, though, I’d like to take a moment and be very Canadian about this. Not all Arab men are the same, of course. Next time I’ll surely devout an entire piece on sexy Arabs… Insha’Allah.