Yes, as the title suggests, I proved to the those of little faith that I have in my power the ability to woo an Arabic man. How do I have this power? How did the situation even present itself to me? Well, to be blunt, I didn’t see a couple of men walking down the street hand in hand and feel threatened and choose to measure the capabilities of my… of my… of my abilities to pick up men, and no, my sexual affiliations have not suddenly changed for the gayer.
Essentially, my journey into the life of homosexual Jordanians comes down to my endless journey of finding a free internet connection. This lovely perk to life that many of us take for granted in the states is not so easily attained in Amman. So I carry my laptop with me wherever I go, and when possible – over coffee, beers, or diatribes about discovering our inner empowerment – I bust that laptop out and take a journey into the lovely world of connections and of information, and yes, I’ll say it, of globalization.
Well, now that this meeting has started and several Monterey Institute kids are gracing me with their presence, we have actually started exploring the underground of the city. Unbeknownst to me, there is a whole scene of drinkers who not only dress scandalously, but seem to leave the house Hijab in place only to overtly remove it along with the majority of their wardrobe upon arrival to said bar. Now, while sucking down a beer and wondering how it look to order a shot of the cheapest rum in the place, I was simultaneously admiring all of these females who have evaded me for a month while thinking about how nice it would be to send a few emails (two things: yes, sending emails and women are of equal importance to me and yes, I had to include the fact I was looking at girls while writing about this particular topic).
As I set the empty beer glass down, a light bulb went off.
Perhaps I could see if the bar I was sitting in had internet access. And suddenly I understand why communication is so important.
“Another round for the table,” I said to the waiter, who, for all intents and purposes, had slicked back hair, a jolly beer gut, and had spent the night glaring at the girls sitting next to me. “Also, is there internet access here?”
The blank look I got is not describable.
“Um, like, a computer?”
“E-mail,” my friend said, trying to help.
“Oh,” said Mr. Slicked Back Hair, “e-mail?”
I nodded my head to indicate yes, that is what I’m referring to, not knowing of course that the infamous Lettis head nod had inadvertently come into effect.
While still looking slightly confused, he walked off. To check? To bring a password? To see if the house computer was available?
Five very long and tense minutes later, he returned and very sheepishly handed me a business card and said, “No e-mail,” staying put for a few seconds to make sure I understood. I did not. But, when a situation gets awkward and not worth your time, what do you do? You smile, you nod, and you turn the clock back five minutes to try and forget about your failure of communicating. Mr. Slicked Back Hair walked off, not really to return. I took a sip of my new beer he had also put in front of me and took another look at the card. Hand written was a phone number and a name.
Interesting, I thought, what the hell does that have to do with an email. And then it hit me, he didn’t think I was trying to use the internet, he thought I was asking for his e-mail address!
Admittedly, I haven’t called him yet. But you know, I usually wait six days anyway…
