Dubai Dating Chronicles

In Ancient times...

2011-09-19T14:57:00.002+04:00

Over the course of history, there are only two professions that have existed and flourished in every civilization on every continent. The profession I would like to discuss today, is mentioned in both the Koran, the Bible and the Torah and it is not that of Prostitute and this one is not mentioned in, at least, one of these books.

It is the profession of peer to peer money Lender. Or "Lender" for short

Since the dawn of time, some people have needed something that other people could provide. And, since the dawn of time, there were individuals willing to Lend for a price. These people have been hated throughout history and have been vilified as the lowest of the lowest scums

In fact, they provide an important and necessary service that has contributed to the advancement of man in to the modern society. In the times before recorded history, Lenders gave meat to the hunters during winter to enable them to keep their strength and hunt during the summer. The payment? More meat!

Later, Lenders would provide grains for crops in exchange for… More grain! And, when they could not provide this grain, the village would die. yes, yes, starve to death.

Over the years, this profession was hated by everyone. Not because it was not a necessary cornerstone of society but because they rates they were charging were outrageous and most importantly the collateral they were requesting was high

Collateral. The collateral they were requesting is the bones. They would break them if you didn't pay. Understandable since they had no other way to secure their investment. The threat of breaking every bone in the Lendee;s body was the motivation to pay back

So, most of you are by now, either asleep - bored to death, or wondering why I am sharing this in a blog called the Dubai Dating Chronicles.

Well, I met a Lender last night. She gave me sex… in return for…. more sex

Haroun El Poussah

Shadows in the night

2011-09-15T17:21:00.000+04:00

It was dark. She was naked. It was humid. The AC did not work. She was annoyed. She huffed and puffed. The TV was showing an episode of friends (The one with the Duck)

A few days ago, an old friend of mine called to see if I wanted to go for some drinks. Those of you, dear readers (few as you have become) that know me personally know that I am not a big drinker. 10-12 beers a night would be the usual for me, no more. My friend, by contrast is a big drinker. I usually think twice before going anywhere with him. His secret weapon is to always tell me which beautiful woman will also be there. This time, it was Odette.

Odette is Linchsteinian or how ever else you call people from Liechtenstein. Odette spoke english with a delightful accent that was neither french, not german but the accent of someone who speaks 4-5 languages and has no defining accent in any language. She was tall, blond and most importantly had a wonderfully intelligent smile.

The linchtenstanian is a beautiful language. Full of words that rhyme with Lich, Stan and Stein. It flows on the tongue like hot honey on a nostril. And, Odette spoke Lich, Stan and Steinian beautifully. She whispered in my ears Lichtan words of seductions, Stanian words of mystery and a few Steinian words that I later found to be insults. She did that all night

The evening went well. I was my usual charming self and we had a good time. Then, as the evening was ending and it was time to ask for the bill and reach for our wallets, Odette asked my friend if she could sleep at his house that evening. Something about her boyfriend not liking it when she got home late and drunk.

The night was young. Odette was home. I was alone. The AC was back on. The sheets were wet. It was humid still. I was sweaty. I has slept alone. Again.

Haroun El Poussah

Egypt

2011-02-14T15:03:00.004+04:00

I never thought Egyptians had it in them. I just didn’t.

Once again, Egypt and Egyptians prove me wrong. And, for once, I am proud they did!

Haroun el Poussah

Anna

2011-02-10T15:14:00.000+04:00

Anna: “Allo”
Me: “Hi, Anna. It’s Haroun”
Anna: “who?
Me: “Haroun”
Anna: “I don’t know any Haroun’s”
Me: “We met yesterday at the Buddha Bar”
Anna: “I have never been to Buddha Bar”
Me: “Yesterday”
Anna: “Nope”
Me: “Sure, it’s you. I recognize your voice. “
Anna: “Nope”
Me: “Hum, If you don’t want to talk to me just say so, but don’t tell me you weren’t at Buddha bar last night”
Anna: “I wasn’t”
Me: “Ok, would you like to have coffee with me this weekend?”
Anna: “You must be mentally retarded”
Me: “Yes, that’s what most girls I meet say”
Anna: “Well we haven’t met and I can tell it’s not all Kosher up there”

Haroun el Poussah

Not Funny

2011-02-10T15:03:00.002+04:00

Last night I went to the Buddha Bar. I found a table. I ordered. I ate. I finished a couple of drinks. I left.

As I was walking to my car, a black Lexus SUV with tainted windows pulled up to me. I stopped and waited. Wondering who was behind the opaque glass.

I imagined a gorgeous tall brunette with penetrating black eyes and a pair of sensuous lips. I imagined her asking me for directions to her hotel room. I imagined her asking me if I wanted to join her for a drink. I imagined small drops red wine all over her... Hum, this blog doesn’t have a PG15 rating so I’d better just tell you who was behind the window

Anyhow, as I was saying, the car pulled up and the window slowly came down. Sitting, in the passenger seat was.... My ex.

Ok, so no wine, no tall brunette, no penetrating eyes. Well, penetrating but for different reasons

She asked me if I wanted to join them for a drink, which is surprising considering we haven’t spoken in quite some time. But, I am not one to refuse free drinks. Even from the devil himself. So, I acquiesced to her request (I watch too many movies)

We went back in and I ordered my usual Black Russian. Although, since I have watched the Big Lebowski for the 100th time, I am considering switching to white Russians. But, I digress. (been taking English classes)

As we were sitting there, her, her beau and myself, a friend of her joined us. For the sake of preserving the dignity and privacy of anyone who can be friends with my ex, we will call her Anna.

Anna, was decent looking. Not gorgeous. Not ugly. No fake nails. Smelled nice. I love it when a woman smells like a woman should

We shared a few drinks, a few laughs and as we were walking about I asked Anna for her number.

She gave it to me. Just like that. No argument. No discussion. 056 1649210

I will be calling her in a few minutes. Wish me luck

Haroun el Poussah

Comback Kid

2011-02-03T12:05:00.000+04:00

All I usually ask for in a woman, on a first date, is that she have 2 arms, a couple of eyes, at most one nose, a couple of ears and some hair. I never thought this was a demanding thing to ask for.

Until last night

Last night, I met this girl for the first time. She did have the right amount of limbs, ears, eyes and two nostrils exactly, no more, no less. However, I discovered that I need to add a few things to my list of “asks”

I know, I know, most of you think I will add stuff like brains and sense of humour. But really, in the dark, do these things matter? These things are only used to get to the “in the dark” part. But once there, it’s not what matters

What does then?

1. Smelling good – maybe good is an over-reach. Smelling neutral
2. Clean feet
3. Lice-free hair
4. No runny noise (imagine hearing a “sniff sniff” in between every “oh yes”)
5. No artificial nails. They hurt and break

It seems that the dating landscape has changed in the few years since I have reported my adventures. The comeback may end up being more difficult than expected

Haroun el Poussah

I am back

2011-02-03T11:33:00.002+04:00

Like Conan the Barbarian and Doogy the Terminator, I am back!

Yes, ladies and Gentleman, it seems that life, circumstances and my desperate need for attention have gotten the best of me and the Dubai Dating Chronicles are back

Over the last few years, my dating skills have, unfortunately, not improved. I have been dumped, ignored, shun, emotionally castrated (not to mention a few attempts at physical castration) and the wind of time has not made me any wiser when it comes to women.

I am back, these are my chronicles. Enjoy

Haroun el Poussah

Goodbye!

2007-02-12T19:11:00.000+04:00

Dear Readers,

First, I would like to thank you all for coming here day in and day out. Your time has always been appreciated and I hope that these chronicles were as much fun for you to read as they were for me to write.

This blog is now closed until further notice. The dating adventures of Haroun El Poussah have now come to an end.

Haroun El Poussah

Is she worth it?

2007-02-09T11:52:00.000+04:00

Relationships are hard. They are hard to start, hard to maintain and hard to end. Relationships are also complicated. No matter what we say, any relationship worth having is both hard and complicated. The question that I often ask myself when I look at a woman is: Is she worth it? You see, in my opinion when I start a relationship, I take on a series of responsibilities and challenges. Starting a relationship means not running away at the first sign of trouble, it means sticking by her during the good times and the bad times, it means accepting the unacceptable, it means compromising on what you thought was un-compromisable, it means swallowing your pride to preserve hers, it means loosing yourself so that she can find herself. These are not easy things to do. But once you start the relationship, this is what you must be prepared to go through.

So, back to my question: “Is she worth it?”. “Would I be willing to go through the gates of hell for her?”. If the answer is no, then better to walk away. I always feel that relationships are out of 10. If one party gives 8, the other will give 2, if one party gives 4 the other will give 6. When I explain this concept to most people, they immediately assume that the successful relationships are those where both give 5. This is, in my opinion, not correct. Successful relationships are those where the numbers change constantly and no one keeps track.

Unfortunately it is very difficult not to keep track. It’s human nature. It is human nature to bicker and count mistakes and to re-open dead issues over and over and over again. That’s just the way we are. It takes a supreme effort that goes against everything we stand for as human beings to not do that. So, my second question for a relationship is “Is she worth it?”. Is she worth that effort? When the day comes that I have to choose between her and the bickering, who/what will my choice be?

Relationships are hard. They end. They end badly. They end in disaster. And they hurt. However, there are also good things in relationships: The companionship, the closeness, the sharing, the intimacy, the comfort and so much more. How do you balance those two? For me, I simply try to weight one against the other and just ask myself “Is she worth it? Is she worth the risk?

The beauty about such a question is that it really allows me to test everything against it. For me, it just comes down to that simple equation. Is everything that will happen next worth the risk of what might happen afterwards?

I know it might sound selfish at first glance. But when you really look at it, it is not really. It is a question that insures that I will try my very best, each and every time. No compromises on that. If she’s worth it, then she deserves my best, nothing less

Haroun El Poussah

Snob or Gay?

2007-02-06T12:21:00.000+04:00

Last night I was on a date! I had dinner. It was a nice dinner, by the beach, weather was very nice, a good amount of alcohol was consumed, and the company was great. 4 hours flew by without me noticing at all. She was smart, funny, interesting and most of all making me laugh. Amazingly I didn’t drop anything on my shirt, jeans or hair and I didn’t make an ass of myself as I usually do (Well, at least I think I didn’t).

As I was driving her home, she turns to me and in the most serious of tones she says: “You’re quite a snob”

According to Wikipedia: A snob, guilty of snobbery, is a person that adopts the world-view that other people are inherently inferior for any one of a variety of reasons including supposed intellect, wealth, education, ancestry, etc. A snob imitates the manners, adopts the world-view and affects the lifestyle of a social class of people to which he or she aspires. That "right" is not necessarily a birth-right: a Pseudo-intellectual is a type of snob. A snob is perceived by those being imitated as an "arriviste", perhaps nouveau riche or parvenu, and the elite group closes ranks to exclude such outsiders, often by developing elaborate social codes, symbolic status and recognizable marks of language. The snobs in response refine their behavior model (Norbert Elias 1983).

Apparently, I treated waiters to harshly, not giving them the proper respect they are due. Having thought about it, I decided to mend my ways. So, at lunch today, this is what happened:

Me: “Good afternoon. Before we order, I would like to thank you for being our waiter today. It is a pleasure, an honor and a privilege to be served by you today”
Claire: “Huh?”
Me: “If you don’t mind, I will start with a Caesar salad”
Claire: “uhu”
Me: “To be followed, with your permission, by a steak”
Claire: “uhu”
Me: “Do you have any suggestions as to how I would want to have it cooked?”
Claire: “huh?”
Me: “May I have it Medium well please?”
Claire: “uhu”
Me: “Thank you very much Claire, it was so kind of you to spend some time at our table”
Claire: “huh?”

Claire: “I have a weirdo on table 4. He is either hitting on me or he’s gay”
Sheryll: “Fucking weirdo!”
Claire: “uhu”

Me: “Excuse me Claire, may you be so kind as to get me some extra water?”
Claire: “uhu”
Me: “Thank you kindly”
Claire: “huh?”

Claire: “He’s gay”
Sheryll: “Let’s set him up with Antonio, the chef”
Claire: “uhu”

Haroun El Poussah

If

2007-02-05T15:45:00.000+04:00

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Iraqi Business

2007-02-01T12:03:00.000+04:00

Medium Kahuna – My new Boss - MK: “Good morning Herlock”
Small Kahuna (me): “Good morning MK”
MK: “I just got back from Washington and we need to open an office in Iraq”
Me: “where?”
MK: “Iraq”
Me: “Which Iraq? The one next to Kuwait?”
MK: “No, no, Iraq in the Middle East. You know, Iraq”
Me: “Oh, that one”
MK: “Yes, we have to open an office there”
Me: “Why?”
MK: “Well, my contacts in DC, that’s our capital here in America, are telling me that they are pumping a lot of money into Iraq and as American companies we need to invest there to take the money back to America. We get tax breaks for that”
Me: “Will your contact in DC come to our opening there?”
MK :”No, of course not”
Me: “Will you come? I think it would show that we are serious about the business there”
MK : “No, I can’t go, I am American”
Me :”Since when do American need permission to got to Iraq? You have 150,000 people there without permission”
MK :”No, I meant it’s dangerous for me”
Me: “Oh, I see. Well who will open it then? We need a Medium Kahuna to open a new office, nothing less will do”
MK: “You open it. You are only a small Kahuna but it’s ok for Iraq”
Me:: “I see, you don’t want to go to Iraq yourself because it is dangerous but you want me to go”
MK: “Yes, you speak Arabic”
Me: “I thought American English was the national language of Iraq now”
MK: “Don’t get smart with me”
Me: “You think Arabic words will stop the bullets or the axe?”
MK :” Well, let’s get an Iraqi to do it”
Me: “And where will we find an Iraqi willing to work for an American company in Baghdad?”
MK: “That’s your problem”
Me: “Ok, fair enough. Please let me know who the company lawyer is who will travel to Baghdad to set up the legalities of the office”
MK: “Our legal department is in the UK, you know that”
Me: “And?”
MK: “They can’t travel to Iraq”
Me: “There are over 12,000 Brits in Iraq as we speak. How did they get there?”
MK: “Listen, these are your problems, handle them! Bye”

On this wonderful conversation, I decided to call Big Kahuna, Medium Kahuna’s boss and the company’s second to top Kahuna

Me: “Good morning BK”
BK: “ Herlock what a pleasant surprise. We were just talking about you yesterday in DC, that’s our capital here in America, and we were saying how wonderful it would be to have an office in Iraq”
Me: “That’s why I am calling, I think it is a great idea. Wonderful really”
BK: “Yes, I am very excited”
Me: “It will require some investment though”
BK: “Anything you need Herlock, anything you need. We are really 100% committed to doing this and we really support you on it with anything you need”
Me: “Excellent, so I will coordinate with your secretary to organize your visit to the opening”
BK: “Opening?”
Me: “Office Opening”
BK: “I can’t come over to Iraq”
Me: “Why not, this is really important to show commitment”
BK: “I am American, I can’t go to Iraq”
Me: “Why not”
BK: “Americans are not allowed in Iraq”
Me: “Really?”
BK: “Absolutely, you’ll have to find someone else”
Me: “Hum, I think it will look really bad if an American company opens up in Iraq but none of the American leadership shows up. It will send a message that they are scared shitless to be there”
BK: “We are scared shitless. They kill Americans over there”
BK: “Listen, Bush, that’s our president here in America, is sending more troops to Iraq. So the situation will stabilize in no time. Let’s talk about it again then”

And, that, ladies and gentlemen is how you avoid opening offices in Iraq

Herlock Sholmes

Turkish Delights

2007-01-25T10:36:00.000+04:00

Yesterday I went partying. I went partying in a way that I hadn’t been in a long, long, long time. The kind of partying where everyone in the group knows that what happens during that night will not be talked about again. It will remain, forever, unmentioned. Being with a group of men, having a “anything goes” agreement and having, between us, enough cash to buy a virtually un-limited supply of alcohol is a terrifying thing

I am in Turkey at the moment for some business. Last night, the group and I decided to go to dinner to the country’s best fish restaurant. That of course started the evening with a few bottle of white wine (Macon Village of course). At the end of dinner, the group decided to continue the evening in Istanbul’s poshest nightspot. For my part I told them I’d go to the hotel because I had someone to talk to and I couldn’t afford to do so while being any more inebriated then I was. Turns out after I got to the hotel that the person I was to talk to had tanneshed me in the worst of ways

I called up the guys and said: “don’t go anywhere, I am on my way”

Now, a few of you readers have partied with me in real life. For those that haven’t, let me give you my 4 rules of true partying:

It must be with a group that doesn’t need to worry about the costs of the drinks. This allows the drinks to flow freely and for rounds to be bought without real care about the costs
There must be an iron clad, unwritten rule that what ever happens that night will be forgiven and forgotten in the morning.
There must be absolute trust between all involved that rule #2 would be followed
Anything goes

Yesterday, the conditions for partying were perfect. To top this off, the group I was with was absolutely amazing and the place we were in was frequented by an absolutely amazing group of people.

I wish I could tell you tales of me approaching woman and making a fool of myself or of food dropped on my shirt. However, the amount of alcohol consumed made everything seem perfect. I have in front of me the bill form last night. We were six people and we consumed: 58 tequila shots, 12 B52s, 8 draught beers (mine), 11 glasses of wine, 2 black Russians (probably mine), 6 martinis, 1 bottle of champagne, 1 bottle of blue label, 226 coronas (looks like we had a “drinks are on us” moment), 12 flaming Lamborghinis and 23 sambucas

I will not tell you how much it actually cost and I can’t really remember who paid. But I’ll be checking my credit card and I think I’ll make sure it wasn’t me!!

Well, it’s now 8:30 in the morning, I just got back to the room 30 minutes ago, I have a meeting in 30 minutes, I shall shower and go. Maybe later tonight, after my day, which I am sure will be very long, I will tell you all about what actually happened during that night. Oh, wait, rule #3!! Sorry guys, I’ll take it to my grave.

I wonder how the others are doing, I am suppose to see them all in 30 minutes. How many of them will show up? How many are passed out in their room? It’s an important meeting, we should be in top shape for it. I think I’ll have a beer before going, just to make sure I am at my peak.

Haroun El Poussah

RBA

2007-01-25T10:13:00.000+04:00

Hello, My name is Herlock and I am a rule breakoholic

We all live with rules in our lives and, as Middle Easterners, we also live to break those rules. We naturally assume that those rules are stupid and we work endlessly to find ways around them.

We, as Middle easterners tell ourselves that we know better, that these rules are set by idiots anyway and that there is no real point in following them. Anyone who has ever been in Egypt will know that every person in the country thinks that the rules of traffic are stupid and don’t serve any purpose. Any one who has been to Oman will know that rules of speed and haste are abandoned at the border. Anyone who’s ever been to Saudi will know that rules of politeness and common courtesy only apply to a select few.

The worse rules to break are the ones we put for ourselves. I mean, if we can’t follow our own rules, those that we have set for our own protection and well being, what does that say about us?

Having said that, sometimes it is good to break rules. Not all the rules are set by wise men with wise intentions. Not all rules are set when the mind is clear and the emotions calm. I, for one, have been, over the last few days, breaking one of my most sacred rules. A rule that I haven’t broken in a lifetime. Last night, I sat and wondered why am I acting against my instincts, good sense and counsel?

The answer is quite simple: Because I dread the consequence of following that rule more than those of breaking it. Having thought about it, I realized that this is the only valid reason to break a rule. It is the only acceptable reason to break a rule. Think about it, what is the use of a rule that makes following it more terrifying then letting go of it? Does such a rule serve any purpose?

I am sure some will come and leave comments citing morality, health, safety and other issues that make the above not apply. However, let it be known that breaking some rules is so sweet that I shall continue to break them and attend my Rule Breaker Anonymous (RBA) meetings every week

Herlock Sholmes

Telemarketing

2007-01-21T15:28:00.000+04:00

It is generally quite difficult for someone I don’t know to get in touch with me. Even if he has my email or telephone number it is not that easy. I get about 1500 emails a day and usually I only answer a few and I never answer calls from numbers I don’t know. I transfer those to my secretary. Also, my phone is usually on silent 99% of the time and I miss a lot of calls.

Over the last 3-4 days I’ve received no less that 35 calls from the telesales lady at the Shangri La trying to sell me a VIP card. Each time she called she left a message with my secretary who was too nice to tell her I was not interested.

So, this morning when she called, I picked up:

Me: “Good morning”
Shangri La Lady (SLL): “Good morning Mr. Sholmes”
Me: “Good morning”
SLL: “I am calling you regarding our VIP card”
Me: “Yes?”
SLL: “Are you interested Sir? If you accept, you get 30% discount on most outlet and a SPA massage for free”
Me: “I get a free massage?”
SLL: “Yes, are you interested?”
Me: “Of course, a free massage would do me a world of good”
SLL: “Excellent, let me just confirm your details. Your name is Herlock Sholmes?”
Me: “Yes”
SLL: “And you are still a Tiny Kahuna at your company?”
Me: “No, I moved to Dubai Transport”
SLL: “OH, excellent, and what do you do there?”
Me: “Taxi Driver”

I am sure, she will not call again

Herlock Sholmes

Cyclone

2007-01-19T11:25:00.000+04:00

Last night I had to take my boss and his GF out to dinner. When we finished they insisted to go to a bar for company paid drinks. I had other plans for last night but I couldn’t really say NO to my boss.

So, I took them to my favorite drinking spot in Dubai. My Boss, being American, likes to sit at the bar. Unlike him, I like tables in a dark remote corner of the room where I can see what is going around

Anyway, we were at the bar, my 55 year old boss was all over his 25 year old girlfriend doing and saying things to her that I really didn’t know were Kosher for a 55 year old (or Halal for that matter.)

His hand was all over the place, his lips were like a freaking machine and the 15 year old was making noises that would have awoken Kennedy from his grave.

After a few minutes of this and while I was slowly distancing myself from them, boss turns around and tell me: “This place is too quiet, we need action!”. Hey, what do I know about action in Dubai? “What kind of action?”. I figured making him talk would take his lips away from the girl’s breasts. Her dress was stained with saliva spots on the nipples. This was getting embarrassing. “A hot place with music, girls and action”

Well, I only know of one place in Dubai where he can suck his date’s nipples and have loud music and loose women around. Cyclone!

When we walked in, I could see the sheer excitement on his face. I could feel raw emotions coming from her. I could feel complete boredom falling on me!

They immediately disappeared in the crowd. I stood against a wall on the far side waiting for them to finish so I could take them home. I was getting really bored and looking at my watch every 5 min when a blond and blue eyed lady came up to me and asked me if I wanted to buy her a drink. I felt like having a drink but the bar was too crowded earlier so I told her that I would buy her a drink if she’d go get hers and get me one as well. I gave her a Dhs 100 note, it was all I had.

15 minutes later she returned with my appropriately named White Russian and she also conveniently forgot to give me the change. No matter, I was more than prepared to pay Dhs100 for a drink at that time.

We stood there for a few minutes saying nothing, then all of a sudden she turns around and lunges at me for a kiss on the lips. I play computer games all the time, I have the sharpest of reflexes, I turned my head just in time for the kiss to land on my cheek. Beaurk it was wet and I had to really resist the urge to wipe it off.

Then, I had an idea. A brilliant idea. One of those ideas that only come once in a lifetime. I offered her Dhs1000 if she’d go to my boss, kiss him and offer him a free night of passion. She’d get another 1000 if she was able to make it a threesome with the 10 year old Girlfriend.

Isn’t it amazing what an incentivised woman can accomplish? It took less than 5 min for the three of them to head to the door with my boss giving me the thumbs up. After they went out, the girl came back to collect her extra 1000. I haven’t heard from my boss yet today.

However, I was able to get home and have some sleep earlier than expected. That was well worth my Dhs2000. Besides, I will put them tomorrow on the company expense as “Entertainment”

Money well spent

Herlock Sholmes

Monologue

2007-01-18T19:23:00.000+04:00

Yo!

How are you doing today? It’s been a long time since we’ve talked. Well, not really that long but still, it feels like an eternity. What has been happening with you? Wait! Don’t answer that. Let me guess. You are probably doing well, drinking wine and eating vegetables. You are taking 4 pills a day for ailments of various nature and it continues to piss you off every single day. You are swimming, walking, sleeping and resting from morning to evening. You wonder and ponder over the mysteries of life and most importantly you are smiling.

Yesterday you woke up early and started your day with a swim, then you went online to chat with friends and check the rambling of fools like me. You had some coffee in the morning, you should have it with milk but someone reminded you that adding milk does not reduce the quantity of coffee in your coffee so you probably had it black. It was strong coffee.

Later that morning, you brushed your hair and went for a walk. You ended up at the supermarket where you bought some vegetables, wine, cereals, soap and olive oil. Then you remembered that you were out of Pasta and Tuna so you got some as well. You will heat them later. You considered going for Gnocchi but you prefer regular pasta.

When you got home, you threw a quick glance at your PC to see if anything had changed since last time you checked. A new post, a new message, a new mail. Sadly, there was nothing. But, you know that one is coming soon. Because it is about bloody time. Then you checked your phone for an sms. You thought to yourself: “You never know”.

Now, you’re reading this post and laughing. Later, you’ll come back to it, just to read it again. And smile some more. “Crazy Man” you will think to yourself. Then, you will sit on the nearest chair, close your eye and think about it all. You will torture yourself by decorticating everything; trying to make sense from chaos. An hour later, you’d have failed, but you will keep on. Eventually, it will dawn upon you. And, the smile will be back.

In the mean time, you are still reading this post, wondering where this is going. Wondering what comes next. You know this post is for you. Yes, you. Don’t blush, now is not the time for blushing. Keep reading and control that smile.

We met for the briefest of moments. A glimpse really, nothing more. Will we meet again? Since this is my monologue I can create the ending of my chosing. I chose this one:

I still have your bottle of wine. I carried it all the way home. Not because it’s good wine (Pretty lousy actually, I was appalled) but because I told you we’d drink it together.
2:0 is not a fair score. Something needs to be done about it
Didn’t I tell you to control that smile?
I do think that Picasso is/was a genius and I need to make you see that
You owe me a trip to Greece
I owe you a view of mount Fuji
You owe me a phone call
I owe you a “Hello”
You owe me the right words
I owe you a time and place
I told you I’d make it hard, I lied
I told you I’d be there when you got back, I didn’t lie
I think the Marriott is better and you need to agree
Pizza and tuna salad is not the best food I could come up with. I can do better
Stop blushing please

Now, you’re still reading this post, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. “Crazy, Crazy man” you’re thinking to yourself “what will I do with you”. For the briefest of moment, you wonder what post can come next, but you dismiss this thought knowing that I'll figure it out.

For now, this is still my monologue but if/when you decide that we need to meet again, you will have your own monologue to come up with. I am sure you can figure out what words to use. Until then, I’ll be at the bar.

Haroun El Poussah

Tiny Kahuna, Greece

2007-01-18T10:42:00.000+04:00

Regarding the post below, I have received only two job applications through the comments but I have received no less than 18 emails with CVs. Instead of answering all of them individually, I thought I’d answer some here. For those of you who sent me a CV and you don’t appear in this list, one of my slave will be calling you shortly

Apostolos: No, being the lead bouncer in Athens’s hottest night clubs doesn’t qualify you for the job. But, if you can arrange a date for my friend Haroun, I’d consider some alternate form of payment

George: No, Being a southern gentleman from Georgia in the cotton industry does not qualify you to lead my slaves. Mentioning that your grand father had a lot of slave experience was interesting.

Ali: No, being an asshole doesn’t qualify you. I am the only one allowed to be an asshole to my slaves.

John: No, Being in the drug trafficking industry does not qualify you

Andreas: No, Being 69 does not disqualify you. Being unable to spell two words of English certainly does

Kyros: I don’t speak a word of Greek man. A CV in English would help

Maria: That was the funniest CV I ever saw. Next time, please consider adding to it your current employment, age, sex, contact details and education. Sending me 41 lines of prose on yourself does not really work

Susanna: Sending me your CV and asking me to set you up on date with Haroun will not get you in my good graces

Heba: They speak Greek in Greece. I swear!

Ali: Offering me sex was not the best way to get into my good graces. I only sleep with my female slaves. You should take your offer to Haroun, he might be interested.

Dalal: No, Haroun does not visit Greece often.

S&D: No, your set of two wonderful Kahunas does not qualify you for the job. It does, however, qualify you for an interview and close examination of your credentials

N: You may apply to become one of my slaves anytime

Herlock Sholmes

Greeks

2007-01-17T12:44:00.000+04:00

I recently got promoted which means that I used to be a Tiny Kahuna in my company and that I am now a Small Kahuna with several Tiny Kahunas reporting to me. As part of the promotion, I get 8 new countries and about 50 more slaves in my team. That brings my total number of slaves to about 200 and change. This morning, I had invited the 8 new Tiny Kahunas to Dubai for a 1 on 1 introductory meeting. Here is what the Greek guy had to say:

Me: “Hello Karimitos Lovemakinos”
Karimitos: “Hello Kherlock”
Me: “Herlock”
Karimitos: “Yes, Kherlock”
Me: “Not Kherlock, Herlock”
Karimitos: “eh, this is what I said, Kherlock”
Me: “Herlock, Herlock H H H”
Karimitos: “Yes, KH KH KH, that’s what I said”
Me: (Hum, I sense a disturbance in the force)
Me: “Ok, never mind, Kherlock it is”
Me: “I see you have been with us 2.5 years already”
Karimitos: “Yes, I need a raise”
Me: “A raise? I see here that you haven’t achieved your quota in the last 9 quarters”
Karimitos: “Exactly!”
Me: “!!??”
Karimitos: “I haven’t achieved quota so I didn’t get commission so I didn’t get paid well, so I need a raise”
Me: “!!??”
Karimitos: “What’s wrong Kherlock”
Me: “Herlock”
Karimitos: “Whatever”
Me: (Did that Slave just Whatever me?)
Me: “Usually we give raises to people who achieve quota, as a reward”
Karimitos: “No, that’s what commission is for. I worked hard so I need a raise. I haven’t received full salary since I joined”
Me: “Because you having been delivering results”
Karimitos: “Exactly and I have been punished for that, you took away my commission!”
Me: “I didn’t take anything away, I hardly know you”
Karimitos: “You, You, the Kahunas”
Me: (Ah, yes, I am part of those now… )
Me: “So… you want me to go to my boss and tell him you need a raise because you haven’t delivered on your targets. Is that correct?”
Karimitos: “Yes, Absolutely”
Me: “And if you had delivered you wouldn’t want a raise?”
Karimitos: “Well, that depends how hard I work to deliver”
Me: “Hum…”

I am now taking applications for the position of Tiny Kahuna in Greece. Requirements are simple

1. Being able to pronounce my name
2. As a tiny Kahuna you will have your own slaves. About 15 of them. Treat them well. They need to get, at least, one afternoon off a week
3. You should make your targets so I look good in front of Medium Kahuna, my Boss
4. You should realize that as a Tiny Kahuna you are my slave. You get Wednesday afternoon off starting at 4pm
5. You should be an Italy supporter in Euro 2008
6. You should make sure your slaves support Italy as well

That’s it really. Please leave your application in the comment sections and someone will get back to you.

Herlock Sholmes

Herlock Sholmes

2007-01-16T16:51:00.000+04:00

By popular demand, I have tracked down the legendary Herlock Sholmes and asked him to become a contributor to this blog.

Some of you already know Herlock, for those who don't I will let him introduce himself.

We will each sign our posts separately

Haroun El Poussah

2007-01-16T10:51:00.000+04:00

So, I had a 7 hours flight back from France to Dubai. During that wonderful time I am sitting next to a very nice lady. We chat for 7 hours straight and, in a typical Herlock fashion, I forget to ask for her phone number. Duh!! I should have my brain examined!

There are two types of men in this world, the Women-challenged and the Women-enabled. Being in the first category really sucks. So, this morning I went to Google to try to sort my problem out. I decided to look for Dating classes in the country. I figured that a little formal education would not hurt.

To my complete surprise, I discovered that there are no dating lessons available in Dubai. Amazing, isn’t it?

So, I decided that it was a great business opportunity and I am opening a dating school. No, no, relax, I am not the one going to be giving the classes. I will only be a guest speaker. You know, the one they bring in to inspire the class. I will be the one putting the curriculum together.

How many of you are interested in classes? It’s Dhs 1000 for a 5 day course

Over the next few days, I will share the curriculum with you

Haroun El Poussah

Encounter of the second kind

2007-01-15T17:01:00.000+04:00

The room was dark. It was hard to see. I stood at the entrance looking around for her. In a small far corner of the restaurant, there she was. Beautiful as I had imagined her. A smile that lights up the room, eyes that stare into your soul, hands that move with her words like a Maestro conducting a Mozart symphony. I observed her from a distance for the longest of times. I just sat there, reading into her soul from afar. Day after day, I would come into the restaurant and she would be sitting at the same table and day after day I would sit at a distance, observing her.

Then one day, I slipped a note with the waiter. It was a simple note. All it said was: “Bar”. She took it, read it and her gaze went to the bar. Our eyes met. She smiled. I smiled. And, for what seemed an eternity, every day I would enter the restaurant, sit at the bar and our eyes would meet and she would expose part of her soul to me.

Day after day, we grew closer. Having never spoken, never touched, never smiled, but we grew closer for we had seen into each other’s soul.

She was sitting at the table with her Beau. A Handsome man, charming, made her laugh and feel safe. But every day, she would stare into my eyes. That went on for quite some time.

One day, towards the end of the evening, the Beau stood to go to the bathroom. His chair was empty. I considered it for a moment. The briefest of moments. Should I? Would I? I left the bar and started walking slowly towards that empty seat. With every step, I would look into her eyes for encouragement, for approval. She knew it and she, for the first time, smiled at me as I sat on that chair. I had never heard her voice and for a moment, we stood there in silence looking at each other, making sure that the first word would be the right one. There might only be time for one word before the Beau came back. I had to choose carefully, I knew she would let me have that first word.

I gazed into her eyes, wondering which one to use, it was a long, piercing gaze and suddenly I knew. I knew that there was only one word… “Hello”

She smiled. She knew it was the perfect one. Simple, yet the smile that accompanied it, said it all. “Hello” she said back.

I had so many other things to tell her, so many questions to ask her, so many emotions to share. Yet, before I had a chance to bare my soul, I noticed her Beau waiting for her by the restaurant door.

“I have to go”, she said. “Yes, I know” I replied. I wanted to hold her, to beg her to stay, to make her see how much I wanted her to stay. Yet, I knew that she had to go. She had come to the restaurant with him; she had to leave with him. That was the proper thing to do.

I had so much more to say. If only I had more time, if only I had a few more minutes, if only I could extend my hand and touch her heart, she’d see that she didn’t really have to go. She’d see that what she wanted was right there, on that seat. But, all I had was “Hello” and the smile that accompanied it.

I will be at the bar tomorrow, the day after and the day after that. If she cares, she’ll come back, alone. I will be waiting…

Haroun El Poussah

Intimacy

2007-01-14T15:52:00.000+04:00

What is intimacy?

Some would argue it’s a touch, a meeting of the bodies. Some would argue it’s a meeting of the mind. Some, smarter, would argue that it is both. They would argue that there is no intimacy unless both minds and bodies merge.

The wise however, will tell you that intimacy is not about concepts of body or minds; they will argue that intimacy is a state of being. Descartes once theorized that Intimacy is the disappearance of individuality in favor of duality. What a load of shit. These famous philosophers are really overpaid for the stupidities the blabber all day long.

Let me tell you, for free, what intimacy is.

Intimacy is when you don’t have to pretend, when you don’t have to play, when you don’t have to touch, when you don’t have to think, when you don’t have to talk when you don’t have to dream.

Intimacy is closeness, silence, darkness, light. It is also Friendship and sex and smiles and tears and laughs.

Intimacy is hard, it raises something beyond expectations, it is a sine qua non condition for happiness that can only be achieved if there is nothing more that is wanted or needed.

Hum, that did not really come out the way I wanted. Those philosophers have no idea what they are talking about but they sure can use pretty words.

Let me take another crack at that…

Intimacy is the transformation of expectation, urges, desires, thoughts and laughs into a well synchronized chorus of emotions.

Yep, that sounds like the Mumbo Jumbo that philosophers would say… Haroun, on the other hand, would just say that Intimacy is the first step on the road to Love

Haroun El Poussah

Khipper trouble

2007-01-08T14:50:00.000+04:00

I am currently attending a conference in Dallas, Texas. Yesterday was our first day and I found myself sitting next to a Venezuelan girl. Half way through the day, she turns to me and says: “Khipper”. She looked me straight in the eyes as she was telling me this. Her eyes weren’t leaving mine. “Khipper” she repeated. Staring into my eyes. Hum, my Spanish is rusty. I haven’t spoken a word of Spanish in a long, long time and I didn’t realize how rusty it was until I came to Dallas (I might have to amend the 5 languages entry in a post below). “Kipper, Khipper, down, broken”. Duh??!! What is she talking about?

Then, her eyes, leave mine, and wonder lower, 2 seconds later she is staring at my privates saying “khipper”. I look down and my Zipper was open!! My white underwear was nicely coming through! For everyone to see!
Turns out, the Zipper is broken and I don’t have another pants with me.

Just thought I’d share with you all that I wear white underwear because it seems that the 5000 people here already know and there is no point hiding it anymore. It could have been worse, I could have been wearing my pink “dentelle” underwear…

Haroun El Poussah

Spicy

2007-01-05T07:50:00.000+04:00

Last night I had a date.

We were supposed to meet at 8:30 and when I saw her name on my ringing phone at 8:20 I thought to myself: “Hum, another wasted evening, she’s cancelling”. I answer the call.

Me: “Hi, how are you?”
Date: “Bad, I just had an accident”
Me: (not THAT age old excuse)
Me: “are you ok?”
Date: “Yes, but my car is hit”
Me: “The important thing is that you are safe”
Date: “I really had an accident you know”
Me: (Yeah yeah yeah)
Me: “Of course you did. Do you want me to come over?”
Date: “Yes please I am 2 min from the restaurant”

Sure enough I come out of the restaurant and see an accident 200m away. A Cayenne and a Tercel. I walk over to the Tercel in search of my date but, to my utter amazement, I see my date standing next to the Cayenne.

Me: “Is that your car?”
Date: “yes, that idiot rammed me from behind…. No pun intended Haroun”
Me: (a Cayenne? I’ve never been in a Cayenne)
Me: “That idiot”
Date: “Oh well, we’re waiting for the police now”

She spent the next 30 minutes waiting for the police while I pretended to be interested in what she was saying but I was secretly eyeing the Cayenne. Wow, sexy car

Policeman: “Ok, all good, you can go now”
Date: “I don’t feel like driving”
Me: “We could go in one car”
Date: “Yes, mine of yours?”
Me: (Duh!! WTF do you think I will say to this?)
Me: “Well you did say you didn’t want to drive”
Me: (Yes, yes, offer that we go in your car and I drive, please please)
Date: “Ok, lets take your car”
Me: “ But, but, but, I didn’t clean it”
Date: “It’s ok, I don’t really mind”
Me: “But you should mind”
Date: “no it’s ok, really”

So we take my car and drive off to a different restaurant than we had originally planned. All evening she is talking to me and all I could see as I looked at her was “Cayenne”. I couldn’t wait to drive her back so I could get a better look at that car… I mean, for once I had a date worth going out with, a date with something to offer, an interesting date. I was trying to be charming and witty and funny and smart and honest with her. After all, the most I impress her the more likely she is to offer me a second date and the opportunity to see my baby again.

When that LONG evening finally ended and I drove her to her car, she didn’t even offer a test drive… what a wasted evening

Haroun El Poussah

The Pussy without a Pussy to fuck

2007-01-03T12:09:00.000+04:00

I have never liked Tainted Female. Her posts are whining and whining and more whining. She is never happy. She’s always complaining. She goes through men like dirty laundry. No wonder, who would want to be with an AWM? (Automated Whining Machine). I was quite happy when she stopped blogging. Yesterday I noticed that she had a new post up. More whining. I couldn’t help myself and left a negative comment. Polite but negative

She comes back and calls me “The pussy with no pussy to fuck”. How cool is that? I mean, it’s really a good one. I thought I had to share this with you. I have been called many things before, but that one is the best.

Tainted, you might be a AWM, but you sure know your insults. You Mama should wash your mouth with soap lady!

Haroun El Poussah

A Miracle

2007-01-01T20:26:00.000+04:00

Last night I went on a date!! Yes, yes a real one. It even involved a woman. Yes, I tell you, yes. A woman. She even had breasts, hair, and no moustache. A woman!

We met for dinner. As usual I was on time, but she was late. Not a good start, but hey, who am I to complain? You guys have been reading the blog, no talk of dates in weeks. Months. Years! Well, maybe not years. But it was getting pretty dark out there. Was I going to blow it over her being 45 minutes late?

So, she sat down and said she was in a hurry because she was going to some party after dinner. I was slightly irked, but hey, she was a woman, she was sitting across the table from me and it was dark outside! I wasn’t about to complain that she only had 30 min for dinner.

I ordered my favorite. Lasagna. She, of course ordered a Caesar salad and told the chef to bring it as soon as it was ready. I was slightly miffed. But considering my hormonal imbalance, I was not about to complain that she’d be eating alone

The salad came, she started eating and finished before my Lasagna arrived. That was ok with me, after all, I managed to get a couple of words from her while she was gulfing her salad. I wasn’t going to complain, I had gotten two whole words and, for once, they weren’t “fuck off”

She looked at her watch, it was time for her to go. My 30 minutes were up. But hey, it was ok, because I had done well and I was sure I was going to get a second date. I mean, I did put in two words and put up with all her shit. Didn’t I?

She walked away without even a peck on the cheek. But hey, I am not complaining. Considering my state of withdrawal a peck on the cheek would have sent me into orgasm and I would have stained my pants. She probably knew it and was doing me a favor.

The lasagna came. It was great. I don’t like eating alone. So I can tell you that the waiter, Rajesh, has 3 kids. Two daughters and one son. The daughters are 8 and 9, the son is 6 months old. He is really looking forward to going home, and seeing them. He is also looking forward to seeing his wife. He hasn’t seen her in over two years.

Who am I to complain? I had a great evening, the date was great and I got to know everything about Rajesh. And, for the skeptics amongst you: Yes, she was DEFINITELY a woman. I can still tell the difference…

Haroun El Poussah

Who is Haroun El Poussah?

2006-12-31T13:15:00.000+04:00

I have been accused of being a woman, of being Herlock Sholmes, of sucking and so many different things that I thought it was time I revealed part of who Haroun El Poussah actually is

According to wikipedia: Haroun El Poussah is a middle-aged, obese man whose main characteristic is his extreme placidity. He can be seen as the embodiment of a benevolent and benign ruler: he has never been shown to have even the slightest conflict with any of his subjects. Because of this, he is extremely popular and loved among his people. In fact, all Haroun El Poussah cares about is eating, sleeping and having lazy fun. He spends most of his time asleep, waking only when it's time to eat. Haroun El Poussah has three brothers: Deuroun El Poussah, Troiroun El Poussah and Quatroun El Poussah.

In the spirit of fairness, here are 20 true things that you didn’t know about Haroun El Poussah and really don’t care about

1. Haroun tripped and broke his leg 7 times
2. Haroun Graduated last of his class
3. Haroun speaks 5 languages
4. The most expensive thing Haroun owns outright is his watch.
5. Haroun reads, at least, 2 books every week
6. Haroun Owns 157 ties
7. Haroun caused 11 car accidents
8. Haroun has 5 fingers in each hand
9. Haroun fell in love twice and out of love 3 times
10. Haroun can Tango
11. Haroun dances like a pregnant elephant
12. Haroun is a dedicated Poker Player
13. Haroun used to own a piano but can’t play it
14. Haroun is an expert on Persian rugs
15. Haroun’s favorite drink is beer
16. Haroun is technologically challenged
17. Haroun has been to 49 countries
18. Haroun has never read Harry Potter
19. Haroun is crazy, absolutely crazy about MMORPG
20. Haroun Hates lists like this one

Well, that’s it. You guys know it all now…

Haroun El Poussah

100 years ago

2006-12-30T09:47:00.000+04:00

100 Years ago tomorrow is the anniversary of my first date ever!

It was my first semester at University, the school at had come from was not into this whole concept of dating. There were parties and people “hooked up”. That first semester at university, I was still frequenting my school parties.

There was also this girl in a few of my classes, she was much like me. She sat in the back and rarely listened, she was of mixed origins, she was the first to arrive at all the fun events and the last to leave and she wouldn’t be caught dead on a dance floor. On top of all that she was also smart and gorgeous looking.

December 30th of that year she walked up to me and said: “Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow for New Year’s eve?”. At the time, I had no idea why anyone would want to waste New Year’s eve over food. I mean alcohol was the main thing at the time. But, I like the girl, so I agreed and, anyway, she invited me to a restaurant close to where I was intending on partying.

So, being a date newbie and since I didn’t own anything except T-Shirts, Jeans and Tennis shoes, this is how I showed up. When I saw that she had done the same, I was elated. Finally a woman that understood me!! Here’s how the date went…

I arrived 15 minutes late. What can I tell you? Traffic was a bitch. Except I didn’t own a car and the subway was a nightmare. I dropped pasta sauce on my T shirt. I had a few too many wine glasses and she asked for my hand in marriage!!

Yes, yes. At the end of dinner she said: “Look, you and I are very much the same. I will never find someone so close to me and the same goes for you. I suggest we date for the rest of our university time and get married on graduation day. What do you think?

I remember this as if it were yesterday. I remained calm, composed, looked her straight in the eyes and said: “If I agree, do we have sex tonight?”

Haroun El Poussah

I suck

2006-12-29T23:39:00.000+04:00

Dear Haroun,

Please be informed that you suck. You think that your stories are funny but they suck. I read all your posts and I didn’t like any one of them. I think you like being tortured by those women. I think that you suck. Then you do this post with Latin in the title and some idiot make a comment and you kill him. You suck. You suck bad. Please stop this sucking blog. You are wasting our time.

Who cares about Noora and Layala? They suck as much as you suck. Having you even read their blog? I think you should stop making fun of people. You suck. Who is this girl that smsed you 200 times? You expect us to believe this shit? You suck

Please do us all a favor and die. Don’t keep waiting our time with this stupid blog. You suck

Anonymous sender

Sadness

2006-12-28T19:57:00.000+04:00

She was waiting for me at the Bar. She was dressed in a long, black satin dress that covered most of her body and defined her curve in that most modest of way that I find attractive. She was drinking a virgin Bloody Mary. A sure message to me that she was a woman of taste and moderation. She was not looking my way. She knew that a man should walk up to the girl and he should make the first move. She knew that she had to get me to speak to her and to notice her.

I walked up to her and stood beside her. For the briefest of moments, I said nothing, simply allowing her perfume to slide over me while I was admiring her beautiful smile. She felt my presence and turned around, our eyes met and she suddenly knew what I had known since I entered the restaurant. She knew that I was the one she was waiting for. She was not happy or sad, she was not thrilled of disappointed. She was just relieved. I don’t really know why, but that is the feeling that I read on her face.

Without a word, we turned and walked to our table. Words were not really needed; they had all already been used. Without a word we sat and stared at each other. Without a word we smiled. Without a word our eyes locked. I was starting to wonder if she was a mute.

Then, she said: “Haroun”. She had this delightful accent. The type of accent that you only find in this part of the world. I smiled back and said, “Yep, It’s me”.

We shared a meal, we shared a drink, we shared a few smiles and a few laughs. Suddenly, much too suddenly, it was late. We were the only customers left in the place. We hadn’t said much to each other, we hadn’t shared much. Yet, there were no more words needed. The bill came, it was paid. There was nothing left of the evening. It had come and gone. It was time to leave. It was time to part ways and ponder on what might have been.

I stood up, she remained seated. I smiled, turned and walked out of the restaurant and into the street. I didn’t feel like driving home. I walked. The night was cold. I was lost in my thoughts. I got home without really noticing, I went upstairs without really thinking.

I stepped into the shower and washed away the last traces of her perfume. I went to bed knowing that there is always tomorrow and that there will be another dinner. This time, I will get there first and wait at the bar. I will order a Virgin bloody Mary. Not because I like it, but simply because I want her to know that I noticed.

Tomorrow is another day, Dinner is another adventure, life, still has to be lived

Haroun El Poussah

Who are Noora and Layala?

2006-12-24T12:03:00.000+04:00

I was surprised to learn this morning that several of the people in our office follow, with great interest, the blog of Noora and Layala. I mean I knew they were famous, but turns out they are almost legendary (I wonder how many visitors they get a day).

I found out over breakfast this morning and of course, the 6 of us started discussing the blog. The key question that was circulating was: “Who are Noora and Layala?”. Are they everything that they seem on the blog? Many people in the cafeteria heard our discussions and all the men ran to their office to find their laptop and started reading. 30 minutes later, we ordered fresh croissants, fresh coffee and started discussing the details of Noora’s Shower guy and of Layala’s faulty lamp. Soon, there were 18 people speculating on who were Noora and Layala. Here are some of the ideas that were floating around

1. Layala is a 5’1 Philippina. She’s 48 years old and Noora is her daughter
2. Noora and Layala are actually the same person and it’s in fact a man.
3. Noora is British, works for Emirates Airline and Layala is her local counter part
4. Layala is in fact a man and Noora is his wife
5. Layala and Noora are 12 year old twins (Although if this is true then they know Way too much about sex)
6. Noora is in fact an Emirati lady, is a virgin and gets her information from porn movies and from Layala, who is in fact a Russian prostitute. How did those two meet, remains a mystery
7. Layala is blonde, tall (1m72 was the general consensus), blue eyed and everything that you could imagine from reading the blog. Noora was tall as well, brunette, long hair, simply gorgeous
8. Both of them have now left the Emirates and are living in California
9. Layala is, in fact, Noora’s lover. They are Lesbians and speak about men to hide their true nature
10. Layala is, in fact a man, and Noora is his lover.
11. Noora and Layala are in fact the same person and she’s 53, married with 8 kids and just longing for the days gone by

And the list goes on… and on… and on.

Whoever they are, everyone in the office agreed that the blog was entertaining and the address started circulating. The men love the blog, the ladies think it’s shameful and should be banned.

Haroun El Poussah

I've been put in my place

2006-12-23T19:24:00.000+04:00

Last night I was at a dinner party for the big bosses in the company. It is one of those events where everyone wears his best set of clothes and tries to appear way more intelligent and charming than he really is.

As it is also an open bar event, towards the end of the night, most people are completely wasted. For my part I never drink when with people I work with. Part of the old “don’t shit where you eat” adage.

Anyhow, at around 1am, this 50 year old lady walks up to me, she is clearly drunk, she checks me up and down, and says: “ You’re the guy in charge in this part of the world? You work for my husband?”. Having no idea who she was or who her husband was, and since she was clearly completely drunk, I decided to simply agree. No harm can come from agreeing. So, she looks me straight in the eyes and says: “I have to have a word with my husband about you, that tie of yours is the most disgusting tie I’ve ever seen”.

Ok, so we have already established, long ago, that I have no taste in cloths. This is why whenever I need to buy anything other than a T-Shirt, I walk into the Hugo Boss shop and ask the salesman to make a few combinations for me. You know, tie, shirt, suit. I then tag them all to make sure that a couple of months later when I actually do need to use them I’d keep the sets intact.

So, that woman was making fun of my tie. And, for your information, it was not one of those Disney tie with Mickey and Pluto. I only use those at less formal functions (It wasn’t my Lord Of The Ring tie either). Stupid woman! For those of you who know me personally, you’d know that I like ties. I don’t mind someone telling me that my suit is ugly (and the pants were probably a couple of centimeters too short) but no one, absolutely no one criticizes my ties.

Under normal circumstances, I would have just answered: “and that outfit of yours makes you look old and fat”. But, I had no idea who that woman was. So, I ignored her while I went around the room asking everyone who that crazy old lady was. Having asked everyone in the room, I was quite confident that no one knew her. I went to the bathroom and made sure there wasn’t someone there that I had forgot to ask.

At that point in the evening, I was quite confident that her husband was not in the room and that since all my bosses where in the room, she was not related to any of them

I looked for her and located her close to the bar (where else) and I approached her with my most adventurous pick up line: “Why don’t you like my tie?”. My plan was to embarrass her. Humiliate her. Teach her that a Man’s tie is sacred. She turns around and I immediately saw that she had had at least 5 more drinks since our last conversation. “I am in room 1417”, she replied. Did I say she was 50 years old? I might have underestimated this, she was probably 60. Now, I know these chronicles make me appear desperate and I know that I’ve said I got horny watching my dog getting some… But I am not THAT bad!

I tried to back out: “Sorry, you misunderstood, me”. She looks me up with her alcohol ravaged eyes and says: “No, not at all, I told you that you had a shitty tie, you went around the room trying to figure out who I am and came back with that fucking line of yours. You are one of those young guys who think they are smart. Well, let me tell you, you are fat, you are ugly, you dress like a buffoon and you revolt me. I wouldn’t sleep with you even if I had another 50 drinks”

Haroun El Poussah

Message in a bottle

2006-12-22T15:22:00.000+04:00

The fortunate ones only get to make 2 or 3 life changing decisions during their time on this earth. However, those that know that luck is earned, not received, know that every decision is a life changing one.

Since it has been a while since I’ve had a date to report and since the Dubai Dating Chronicles still need updating, I felt another serious post was in order. Yes, Yes, I know, two in a row

I was talking to someone yesterday who was about to go on a trip to see her Beau of the hour. She was about to go half way across the world to spend a few more days with the man that occupies her thoughts. That, in itself, is not a life changing decision. The life changing decision is the one of coming back.

Life changing decisions are not always as they seem. Calling the woman to ask her out is not life changing, her accepting might be. Choosing Italian where pasta sauce can end up on the shirt, instead of the classical French could also be life changing. Each and every one of us will come across those decisions and what separates the losers from the winners in life are how we go about making them.

Here are my 4 recommendations when faced with a LCD:

1. Never go with your first instinct. Yes, yes, I know this is contrary to what you have been told. Forget what you have been told, its BS. Always have a first instinct, then sleep on it, make the effort to forget it and think about it again. First instinct don’t come from the mind, they come from the gut.

2. Always take advise. Even if you don’t have anyone close. Always take advise. Even if you know you will disregard it later. Taking someone else’s advice forces you to explain the case to him. When you explain to someone, it forces you to organize your thoughts.

3. Dedicate time to thinking about it. Include it in your calendar. Or dedicate a specific time for it. For me, all life changing decisions get made during my 45 minute drive to work. This has two advantages. First, I know that I will be thinking about it during that time so I don’t worry about it before that. Second I know I only have 45 minutes, it forces be to actually make a decision

4. Never look back. Once the decision is made, get behind it 100%. Don’t hesitate. Trust in the fact that you thought about it and you are making the right one. Trust your own abilities

Well, that’s all I have for now. I am sure I will have more later and I KNOW I will have a funny story for you on Sunday. For those of you who prefer the lighter side of the chronicles, please come back on Sunday and I shall have another true Haroun El Poussah adventure to tell. It will be full of hope, disappointments, candor, and Haroun making an ass of himself. Again.

Until then, I wish you all Merry Dating, successful LCDs and happy sexual experiences

Haroun El Poussah

Late night pleasure

2006-12-22T10:08:00.000+04:00

Last night, late, I decided to go walk my dog on the beach. This happens quite often. I am one of those people who can’t sleep very well and when this happens I like to take my dog to the beach. She really loves it and for her it is the optimum freedom to run around, swim etc

Last night I arrived at the beach at around 3:15 am. I have been to that beach, at that time, so often that the regular police patrol knows me quite well and, as usual, they stopped for a quick chat. However, having read Noora and Layala’s post, I kept the conversation short out of fear for my ass. I mean, you never know.

Anyhow, I am straying. As I the dog and I were walking along the beach, lost in our thoughts, enjoying the clear sky and fresh air, we noticed another person and his dog coming from the opposite direction. It is a world known fact that all dog owners are always friendly to each other. We stopped and started to talk and chat about this and that. Peter seemed like a pretty decent person and it was an interesting little conversation.. He told me all about his dog (Pluto) and I told him everything about my bitch.

Then we start hearing weird noise, we turn around and there was Pluto humping my bitch! Pluto was making those weird little dog noises as he was getting his pleasure and my Bitch was rolling her eyes as she approached the point of no return.

We both watched, silently, as the dogs did the nasty. Peter was thinking about his new girlfriend and I was thinking: “Even the Bitch is getting some. Bitch!”

Haroun El Poussah

Cognito Ergo Sum

2006-12-20T11:38:00.000+04:00

Yesterday was a tough day for me. A very, very tough day. As I was driving home, quite tired and exhausted a few friends called with an offer I couldn’t refuse: Beers and Tequila

As I got to our favorite venue for such activities, sat down, and proceeded to consume an extraordinary amount of both drinks, the group started talking about their dating experiences in Dubai. As someone who likes to listen more than talk, I was fascinated with what I was hearing. Tales of loose women, BMWs, money being spent, Gym sessions, Viagra and other, flowed across the table like cheap wine. For the first time in a long, long time I felt out of place. These were my friends, yet a few Tequila shots had released a side of them that I never knew. I tried to intercede but was told: “Every one in Dubai is like that”. Both the men and the women at the table said the same thing.

This is the second time I am told the same thing. Only a couple of days ago someone else was making the argument that all men in Dubai are pigs. And that most women do actually like it and encourage it. I mean they wouldn’t be pigs if it didn’t work, would they?

This is not one of my funny posts. I am not really in the mood for one of those this morning. I feel like thinking out loud. I feel like organizing my thoughts on paper. If this is not your cup of tea, please leave now and be reminded that this is MY blog and I shall write on it what I want. Nah!

So, as I was driving home at 4am last night, I started thinking about the conversation we were having in relation to my dating experience here. I kept telling myself “I am not like that. I am different.”. “I am better”. While it is absolutely true that I am “not like that” I am not sure anymore (now that I am sober) that “better” is the right word. Who am I to judge? If it works for them, it works for them. I guess we just have different goals. And, here lies the issue.

The men that were discussed around the table mostly know one of two things: Either that they are destined to marry a virgin that they barely know or that they are here for a relatively short period of time and will soon be back to the “real” world. As a result, both have the same aim: To sleep with as many women as they can while it lasts. A commendable goal. I am all or that. Good luck. If you have such a goal, you also have to give yourself the tools to achieve the objective. A nice car, A Gym induced body, expensive clothes, etc, etc. In order to succeed, what counts most is the first impression. Something that can easily be achieved through a few hours at the Gym, a nice car and a few minutes in front of a mirror before leaving the house. You might also need a few well rehearsed jokes to tell.

That is fine with me. I am all for that sort of attitude. Going and getting what you want, investing in making it happen is what I am all about as well. However, I have also reached the conclusion that my little luck with dating in this country is because I have a different goal. You see, I will not be marrying a virgin that I barely know and I am not here for a short period of time before going back to the “real” world.

As a result, my priorities have shifted from screwing anything that moves to human contact in general. While “human contact in general” does include nocturnal activities, they are not the only included item on the list. Indeed, if you think about it, time in bed can be 1 or 2 hours a day (5 min for me, but that’s another issue for another post) but the time spend face to face is a lot more than the 1 or 2 hours. For me, enjoying that other time is equally, if not more important.

I would like to be able to call her on my way back from a long day at work and talk about something completely different. I would like to be able to plan a dinner with her knowing that I will be able to be surprised by the conversation. That it would take us into uncharted water with weird topics of conversation. I would like to be able to sustain a 5 min phone conversation with her about a topic other than sex, phone sex. Those are important things for me. I think it is my right to have them on the “important things” list. I also understand that I should not whine about other people not having them on the same list. I would like to show her the places I have been without boring her, I would like to take her to the base of mount Fuji or diving in Australia, I would like to go to the Opera with her without having her yawning every 5 minutes, I would like to have her disagree with me on the idea that Picasso is the best painter that ever lived, I would like to share a sunset with her without her ruining it with words such as: “This is beautiful”, of course it is, I know it, you know it, I know you know, you know I know, shut the fuck up.

I, like everyone else have things going for me and things going against me. I, as I suspect every one else, have made numerous lists of them. That list has not changed much for me in the last 10 years. On the negative side are most of the first impression things: Looks, cloths, effort, flashy car, etc. On the positive side are all the things that take time to discover. And, I have come to terms with that long ago. My reasoning is that if a woman doesn’t take the time to dig deeper then I might not be right for her and she might not be right for me. That is why, every relationship I’ve ever had has lasted a fairly long time, because it was always build on a meeting of the mind rather than a joining of the body. Once again, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the sex like everyone else. I just hate to have to lay next to her in the dark afterwards with nothing to say. That silence is what kills me.

Well, that was as deep as it gets this morning. Back to the normal posting style shortly. As soon as I can find my next victim. Until then, I wish you all Merry Dating and a Happy new significant other...

Haroun El Poussah

Stalker?

2006-12-19T11:33:00.000+04:00

I may have a Stalker! 982 sms, 114 emails.

Does that qualify?

Haroun El Poussah

To know or not to know

2006-12-18T21:18:00.000+04:00

This afternoon, I was sitting in the office bored beyond belief. If it wasn’t for a MSN conversation with a very attractive women, I would have shot myself.

As the afternoon was turning into evening, I got a call from a friend who invite me to a general knowledge competition. I like general knowledge competition for the simple reason that, more often than not, I win

This event has simple rules. Eight teams of two, 400 questions the one who answers the most questions wins. Entry price is Dhs2000 and the winning purse is Dhs10000

Below are some of the questions I remember. How many can you get right? I will post the answers tomorrow evening.

What is the capital of Honduras?
What year was America discovered?
Who was president of France in 1977?
What is the Magna Carta (I shit you not!)
Who killed President Lincoln?
What is the EuroStar?
What is the capital of Jamaica?
Who won the world cup in 1934?
What is the marital status of Ms Cliquot?
Which Chinese town hosts the terracotta warriors?
What does USSR stand for?
What was Muhammad Ali’s original name?
What is the name of the ruler of Fujeirah?
What do we give thanks for on Thanksgiving?
What was the name of Bill Clinton’s dog?
What is the currency of Australia?
Who composed “the Four Seasons”?
Who is Han Solo?
What was the name of the first printing press?
How many years ago was Christ born?

Haroun El Poussah

Jane the Mind Ripper

2006-12-17T15:45:00.000+04:00

The secretary of one of our customers is crazy. Well, crazy about me apparently. Last week, when I went to see the customer, I stopped at her desk, like I always do, and had a quick chat with her. This week, she sent me 258 sms messages asking me if I wanted to go out for coffee. In the end, after saying NO 257 times in 257 different ways, for the sake of my sanity I decided to accept.

However, I wanted to make sure that she wouldn’t ask me again, so I decided to be as rude as I possibly could.

I got to Aroma café, 40 minutes late and I found her waiting patiently for me with a huge smile forming up on her face when she saw me. She didn’t even mention that I was late and I didn’t bother to apologize. I sat down and she proceeded to thank me for coming, I interrupted her with an order for an orange juice and I didn’t even ask her if she wanted anything. Apparently she didn’t because she just continued talking as if nothing happened.

As she was bla blaing on and on about some inconsequential thing or another, I finished my orange juice and let go the loudest burp in the history or recorded burps. She started laughing and said she loved people who felt comfortable enough to do that

It was getting painful. Usually I don’t need to make a fool out of myself on purpose, it just happens. This woman was going to be a challenge!

After ignoring her for 1 hour, burping, interrupting, speaking on the phone, etc, I concluded that the only way out was a loud fart. The loudest fart I could muster. That should do it. I mean, if the farting itself didn’t get her, the smell would. I gathered myself, adjusted my sititng position to let our just enough air and proceed to push, push as hard as I could.

Unfortunately, 45 minutes later, I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t fart at will. Apparently I am fart-challenged.

Haroun El Poussah

Weapons Of Mass Distractions

2006-12-14T16:32:00.000+04:00

Last night I was invited to the gala dinner for the Dubai Film Festival. Initially, I didn’t want to so, since I don’t know anyone there, but I was bored so I decided to show up.

I was seated at a table with Laurence Fishburne, Yousra, Lolla, Hussein Fahmi and Ian Barton.

Now, for those of you who don’t know Lolla, let me tell you that she has two nuclear weapons that should be banned by the IAEA or risk being invade by Bush’s America

So, anyway. Here I am sitting at that table and I am observing all those smart people chat amongst themselves about holidays in the Bahamas, mansions in California, Penthouses in London, Plastic surgery and here I ma worried about dropping mustard on my $9.99 red tie. The conversation was pretty boring for a mere mortal like myself and I was about to call it a night when Lolla looks at me and, for the first time all evening, she seem to realize that some weird, chubby guy that she doesn’t know is sitting at the table. She raises an eyebrow and checks me out from top to bottom, then turns to Yousra and says: (Keep in mind that I don’t look AT ALL like I speak Arabic): “El gada3 dah beyboselli kedda leih?”

At that point, it took ALL my legendary self discipline and mythical self control not to turn tomato red or burst out laughing.

So, Yousra turns to her and with the most serious face she says: “makhatesh bally, hezzy bizazik shwayya 3ashan ashouf”. This is when I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned fire red, and couldn’t contain the smile on my face and I looked at Lolla right in her eyes. She turned blue and said: “Ya lahwi. Inta bititkalem 3arabi?”

I simply looked at her and nodded. They both smiled and proceeded to explain to Laurence Fishburne what had happened. He also seemed to notice me for the first time. He asked me whether I had seen his last movie “Bobby” I replied that I hadn’t. At that point the soup was served and I saw him looking around the table for something. I said: “ Laurence, you should know better, There is no spoon”

I think it wasn't the first time he heard that aprticualr joke. No matter, I thought it was funny.

I was ignored for the rest of the evening.

Haroun El Poussah

Word from God

2006-12-13T11:18:00.000+04:00

DG has left a comment on my previous post. He was kind enough to care for my soul and it's eternal damnation. The comments stirred so many emotions in me that I decided to copy it here.

--------------------------------------------
Narrated Abu Hurayrah:

I heard the Messenger of Allah (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) say: “All of my followers may be forgiven except those who commit sin openly. It is a kind of committing sin openly if a man does something at night, then morning comes and Allah has concealed his sin, but he says, ‘O So and so, I did such and such last night,’ when his Lord has concealed him (his action) all night but in the morning he reveals that which Allah had concealed for him.” (Bukhari Hadith No.: 5721; Muslim Hadith No.: 2990)

Fear Allah. Mashallah you have great writing skill. Use it for good things. Remember all of us will have to answer for our actions in this world. Prepare yourself well for that day.Fear Allah, don't become like these people:

Narrated Abu Hurayrah (may Allah be pleased with him) said: The Messenger of Allah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “If the believer commits a sin, a black spot appears on his heart. If he repents, gives it up and seeks forgiveness, his heart is cleansed, but if he does more then (that spot) increases until it covers his heart. (Ahmad Hadith No.: 8792 and al-Tirmidhi Hadith No.: 3334)

That is the raan (covering of sin) which Allaah mentioned in the Qur’aan: “Nay! But on their hearts is the Raan (covering of sins and evil deeds) which they used to earn” (Quran 83:14)

If my words make sense to you, then please remember me in prayers. If you think something is wrong with my brain, then also please forgive me & pray to Allah to cure my brain. More info on this topic here.

May Allah guide all of us to His right path.

---------------------------------------

Haroun El Poussah

Bond, James Bond

2006-12-10T13:45:00.000+04:00

Last night, I went on a date. A nice lady. We were introduced last week by a mutual friend who had invited both of us for a barbecue at his home. At the end of the evening, she gave me her number and asked me to call her. Which I did; and invited her to a movie.

Movies are a good idea for a first date. No risk of pasta sauce ending up on my shirt, no risk of getting completely drunk at the bar, no risk of her finding out that I dance like a pregnant elephant or that I have no meaningful conversation to speak of. I mean, after all how can anyone screw up a date where all he has to do it sit in the dark and watch a movie?

Well, I know such a man. His name is Haroun El Poussah (some, mistakenly, think he is also called Herlock Sholmes but that is a story for another time).

So, back to screwing up sitting in the dark watching a perfectly innocent movie. Yes, innocent movie. Sitting in the dark watching the latest adult only movie is screwable. But watching James Bond isn’t.

So, we arrive early, sit and start chatting while we wait for the main attraction to start. A few minutes later, Sophie, announces that she is hungry and wouldn’t mind a hotdog. Being a gallant gentleman, I offer to go get her one. By the time I got back with a couple of hot dogs and some nachos the movie has started. We sit there and proceed to eat our food while Daniel Craig is showing off his pelvic muscles.

98 minutes later the movie ends and the light comes back on only for me to discover that half the hotdog mustard and half the Nacho red sauce ended on my shirt.

“Hell and Damnation!!” Is there no end to the streak of bad luck? Can it get any worse? Of course, the only upside to this whole situation is that she could offer to lick the weird mixture off my shirt. But at that point, considering the look on her face, I was not holding my breath. So, our eyes meet and I can see horror in hers. I smile, that innocent smile that got me out of so many bad situations when I was 4. Unfortunately she is not 4, nor is she is not my mother, she is a woman – a good looking woman – and she doesn’t want to be seen, in public, with anyone wearing a shirt like mine.

She looks at me leans forward, bringing her lips close to my ear and whispers: “Let’s go find the hot dog that goes with this sauce”…

Haroun El Poussah

Nuts and Bolts

2006-12-07T11:21:00.000+04:00

Over a wonderful dish of Lasagne she told me: “Haroun, you eat like a pig. Half of the lasagna ends up on your shirt”

Over a wonderful glass of Chianti she told me: “Haroun, you drink like a fish, you are disgusting”

Over a decent Tiramisu she told me: “Haroun, you swine, leave the sweets alone”

And, I thought she didn’t like me. Turns out she is into the Submissive, Repulsive, whip and cuffs kinda thing. So, I tried to explain to her that, as long as I am the one doing the whipping, cuffing, slapping, spitting, cursing, biting, kicking and punching, we could do as much of it as she wanted

Turns out she is into doing the whipping, cursing, kicking and punching. I told her that if she thought I was willing to get whipped to sleep with her she had delusions of grandeur.

She told me to shut the fuck up or she’ll smack me

I told her that I wanted to do the smacking because right about now I really thought she deserved it

I took a step back, making sure to stay out of reach. You never know what those crazy females can do in a restaurant. They get turned on by pretty weird things. Then, she proceeds to tell me that she would like to bite my balls off. I almost fainted. My balls? Bite them off? Is she nuts?

I tell you, getting a reliable date in Dubai these days is like playing Russian roulette with your balls. I have been to weird places in this world of ours. Be it Nigeria, the Australian Outback, Brazil, Togo, Benin, Saudi Arabia… No woman has ever offered to bite my balls off… I was expecting someone to offer to served them up with Ketchup a few times (Brazil, and Australia), and I was expecting a man to offer to bite them off once (Saudi Arabia), but… you know… total shock

Haroun El Poussah

The Bitch

2006-12-04T14:55:00.000+04:00

My dog and I are close friends. We do many activities together every day. From walking on the beach to shitting and pissing we do these together. My dog loves me. Every time II get home she jumps displays a joy that warms my heart. Every time she sees me packing my bags, she bites my ankles in an attempt to prevent me from leaving. When I feed her, she always shows gratitude and happiness, when I play with her, she is always willing and able, when I ignore her, she knows I am busy and stays away, when I am sad, she feels it and tries to cheer me up. My dog is my best friend

My ex was the exact opposite. She used to want to piss and shit alone (Thank God). She never displayed any affection or interest in me and when I packed my bags to leave on a business trip she never failed to ask: How long are you gone for? Of course she just wanted to know how long she had the house to herself so she could fornicate in piece with her boyfriend.

When we decided to separate, we had to discuss who would get what. While we were not married, we had lived together for a while and I felt it fair that we share everything. I felt that we should share everything down the Middle. She would get one of the cars (I let her chose), she would keep all her cloth, and we would sell all the furniture and split the money in half. I felt it was fair.

It all went smoothly until it was the actual moment to leave the empty house that had been our home for so long, she wanted the dog!! “What the fuck”? She had never, ever, once, cared for the dog. Not once had she done anything but yell at her. So, in a moment of anger, I had to agree to a new deal. I gave up both cars, all the furniture money, all the joint account balance and anything else she wanted if she would let me have the dog

So, I lost a cheating girlfriend, a few dirhams, a car but I gained a best friend. Sounds like a great deal to me.

Haroun El Poussah

This guy...

2006-11-30T11:44:00.000+04:00

There is a certain guy who posts comments on literally every blog I go to, including mine. I am debating whether or not to give you his name but while I think about it, let me tell you what I think about him.

This guy, has nothing positive to say. Most of the time he is bordering on insulting. He roams the blogosphere looking for nasty things to say to every blogger out there. Nothing is ever good enough. He never agrees with anything said and spends his time making semi sarcastic, semi insulting comments

This guy is also an idiot. Yes, he manages to come up with the stupidest comments on every blog. Without exception. If you take any random blog out there and look at the comment section, I guarantee that his comment will be the stupidest one out there

This guy is unbelievably arrogant. He always thinks that he knows better than the writer. On every topic. Regardless of the subject being discussed. Be it sex, politics, sports or economics, this guy thinks he is the world’s foremost expert on each

This guy is very religious. He is so religious that he takes upon himself to explain to everyone out there how they are destined to rot in hell for the rest of eternity. He cites some obscure passage from various religious books to support his claims of damnation. 9 times out of 10, it turns out he has no clue what he is talking about. But, no matter, he continues to dispense religious advice to the unsuspecting blogger

This guy is a pain in the ass. No matter how much you tell him to stay away from your blog, he keeps coming back with his stupid comments

Ok, I have decided to give you his name, but you probably already figured it out by now:

Anonymous

Haroun El Poussah

Tales of Tiramisu, Grappa and Money

2006-11-28T12:09:00.000+04:00

Mario, the head chef at my favorite Italian restaurant, is a personal friend of mine. We go bowling together every Friday and we go overdrinking together on most Saturdays. We have known each other for well over 8 years. So, when Mario called me a couple of days ago to tell me that he met a girl he thought would be perfect for me, I got all excited. Then, when he offered to have a first meeting at his restaurant and for him to cook us “Something Special”, I knew that he was really excited too.

I arrived at the restaurant last night at 8:55, 5 minutes before the 9 o’clock appointment with butterfly in my stomach. I know Mario quite well and he would not have offered to cook us something special unless the girl was something special of her own. I was so excited that I even made a wardrobe effort and wore my best suit (Ok, I confess, Hugo Boss – The only thing I indulge in on the wardrobe side is expensive suits.). I sat with Mario who told me that he even made his world famous Tiramisu tonight. This was definitely going to be a good night

At 9:00 Sharp (wow) she walked into the restaurant. It was difficult not to notice her. She was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Since everyone’s definition of gorgeous is different, I will not describe her. Words would fail me anyway. Just make up your own mental image, then add to it a beautiful, long black dress, matching black shoes and an exquisite little LV bag. She had a beautiful smile on her face and walked briskly to our table with her hand extended, shook my numb hand then turned to Mario and deposited two wonderfully sensual kisses on his cheeks.

She spoke English with a definitive Italian accent, she was gesturing with her hands in this most Italian of ways, she was laughing, she was smiling, she was nice. On top of that, she was also smart, cultured and I am sure by now you can tell that I was deeply taken by her. In fact all I was doing was hoping that I would not make an idiot of myself by dropping some pasta sauce on my suit or twist my tongue when tying to speak, or, in general, make a fool of myself

The evening went quite well. I dare say. I dazzled her with my natural wit, intelligence, culture, charm, sharpness, humor, charisma, appeal, personality, magnetism, allure and self confidence. It was all working like clock work. She was laughing at all my jokes, nodding at all the intelligent points I was making, smiling understandably at all my problems… heaven I tell you; Heaven. I was already thinking about making Mario my honorary brother and including him as the sole beneficiary in my last will and testament.

As the Tiramisu was consumed and as the last drops of Grappa were squeezed out of the bottle and as the evening was coming to a close, she most naturally asked me if I wanted to come over to her place to have a few more drops of a yet un-named nectar that would insure that we would be inhibited enough to fall into each other’s arms and spend the night in passion. OK, OK, she just asked me if I wanted to have a coffee.

Of course, I accepted. We got into her car (Only one car! Always a good sign). We got to her place. We forgot about coffee…

In the morning, I woke up late for work and as I was rushing to get showered and dressed, she asked me to tell Mario that next time it would be the regular rate…

Haroun El Poussah

The Value of Brands

2006-11-22T12:27:00.000+04:00

She was wearing:

YSL Dress $5000
Prada bag $1000
Tiffany necklace $1500
Todts Shoes $1000
Rolex watch $16,300
Undetermined but nice bracelet $500

I was wearing:

No Brand Shirt $100
Clarks shoes $120
Levis jeans $200
Swatch $56
CK Underwear $25
Nike sox $7

The look of disappointment on her face: Priceless

Haroun El Poussah

12 Monkeys

2006-11-21T13:59:00.000+04:00

These are my 12 dating monkeys

1. The Clothes: Knowing what to wear and how to wear it is always a problem. White sox? Suit? Shirt? T Shirt? Polo? Slippers? Underwear? No underwear?

2. The Venue: Always a biggie. Too upscale and she’ll think you’re a snob. McDonald’s and she think you are cheap. With alcohol? Without alcohol? Indian Food? Arabic Food?

3. The Conversation: Can I mix English into my Arabic? Arabic into my English? French? Are there taboo topics? Religion? Sex? Marriage?

4. The Ordering: Hum… I was born hungry! (When I came out of my mother’s womb, crying of hunger was the absolute first thing I did. Been that way even since. It has all to do with the fact that doctors interrupted my dinner and forced me out) So, how much to order? Do I pig out and damn the consequences? Is she nice enough for me to be decent?

5. The Drinking: I drink like a Irishman in love with a Scotswoman. Is this acceptable on dates? Is she a Scott?

6. The Knife and fork: I like to eat with my hands. I am more in control this way and can put more of it in my mouth at once. Some ladies get offended.

7. The Bill: Do I ask for it? Do I wait until she asks for it? Obviously if it is going bad, I’ll make a move. But, what if I like the girl? Too long and I risks her finding out how truly boring I am. Too quick and she leaves before she is hooked

8. The Payment: Who should pay? Me on a good date, her on a bad one? Dutch if she’s Scottish?

9. The Valet Parking: I usually like to wait for her to get into her car. Not because I am polite but because it allows me to go back in and take the doggy bag in which my favorite waiter tucked all the leftovers. What if I get hungry during the night?

10. The Sms: Do I sms her that night to thank her for the evening? Tough one. On one hand she could get a superiority complex and become un-handlable. On the other hand, it’s the easiest way to be smsed back with an invitation for a night cap

11. The Good Night kiss: Ahhh, that damn good night kiss. In my younger years, I used to be so clumsy that I could, sometimes, miss the entire cheek and land, by mistake, on the lips. These days, this is no longer possible as woman tend to react negatively to such innocent mistakes. So, cheek? Lips? Neck? Babylons? And if Lips, with hands, no hands? Doh, life is so complicated these days.

12. The Morning after: If it’s her place, get the hell out of there asap! Work, jogging, pregnant wife are all valid excuses. Never take a woman at home on the irst date, they tend to stick around and overstay their welcome. Even I know that. But when I wake up at home, alone, do I send her a good morning sms? Or not? I always screw this one up with an sms about my morning erection and a reference to wet dreams of her. It never goes down well

Haroun El Poussah

Turkish Delights

2006-11-17T13:29:00.000+04:00

Locked lips on a Tuesday night developing into wondering hands on Wednesday’s early morning can easily turn into locked bodies on Wednesday morning and into immeasurable pleasure by Wednesday noon.

Wouldn’t that be the ideal scenario for a Tuesday evening date? Except of course that I work on Wednesday morning and need to get the whole thing done and dusted by 7am. Still there could be worse outcomes for a date that started with undercooked meat in an expensive Turkish restaurant

Haroun El Poussah

Thursday night

2006-11-11T14:17:00.000+04:00

The day started well, I had a gala dinner to go to and a date to accompany me. I also managed to wiggle my way out of the dinner and re-arrange the date for a nice Italian restaurant in town.

From there, it all started to go wrong. You see, this is the concept of Murphy’s law. As soon as you get excited about something, circumstances conspire to make it all go as wrong as it can go.

Trouble started at around 9am as I was having breakfast with my boss and started to have stomach cramps accompanied with blinding headache. I started frequent trips to the bathroom vomited a couple of times. “Great”, I thought to myself, “great start to the day”

Because of that, I started running late on my schedule and I soon realized that I would not have time to go home and change before dinner. Disaster! It was the first time I met the lady and I was wearing my outdoor clothes since I had organized a brainstorming session on the beach that morning for my team. Obviously, Murphy intervened one more time and made that day the hottest and most humid one yet in November. This means that I was sweating like a pig all day.

Can it get any worse? You betcha it can!

As the day progressed my headache and stomach cramps were getting worse and worse. By 2pm I was on my 11th Panadol of the day and was starting to feel really tired. My date was at 8:30 and I was so much behind on my schedule that I was starting to wonder of I would make it. This is when the guys decided to order lunch in. “Great” I thought, an opportunity to catch up. As we are all gathered about the conference table munching on Chillies delivery, my secretary comes to talk to me about an important phone call and in my haste to get to the office, I drop a good portion on Guacamole on my Jeans! Can it get any worse?

At that point, I was considering calling my date and asking her if we could arrange for an underwear date. Because my jeans were in no condition to accompany me on a date. However, my secretary reminded me that the Italian restaurant I had selected did not allow underwear dinning. (Can you imagine the arrogance?). She also mentioned that some salt and soda could help. “Great”, I thought, “Salty pants” will be my new nickname from there on

At that point in the day (Around 4pm), I was utterly exhausted. I mean, really exhausted to the point that I was thinking of having a nap in my office. Of course, as soon as I decided to do this, 200 new things came up for me to do

At 7pm, 90 minutes before my date, I was running really behind on the schedule for the day. I had stomach cramps, had used 14 Panadols and had a blinding headache and was about to go eat with a woman I had never met but was quite excited to get to know

Can it get any worse? You betcha it can!

At 7:11pm precisely, my secretary comes into my office and notices that one of my shirt buttons has fallen! Fuck this Murphy guy. Fortunately for me, she is an expert at these things and proceeds to fix the problem. More delays on my schedule. At that point, I am simply exhausted.

So, to summarize, it takes about 1 hour from my office to the restaurant, it’s 7:30, I am about to leave, my jeans is stained (huge), I have stomach cramps, a blinding headache, 19 panadols, a missing button on my shirt, I am dressed beyond casual and had no time to change, I smell like a pig and I am on my way to a date that I was really, really looking forward to.

As I reached the hotel, I noticed that no-one would get next to me because of the smell. I quickly stop at the hotel gift shop for some Cologne but can’t find any. I buy deodorant and After shave instead. Just when you think it can’t get worse, it turns out the deodorant is the type that makes a HUGE humid stain under the arm pit. Now it looks like I just ran a marathon and am still sweating like a pig. The good news it that I now smell like a mixture of cheap aftershave and even cheaper deodorant instead of sweat!

Now, Murphy’s law would tell me that, in order for the evening to be complete, it would have to be that the lady I am about to meet, turns out to be hideous, mentally retarded and simply un-datable. Even worse than Death By Boredom date.

I arrived at the restaurant with a minute to spare. I like to be on time. Of course, Mr. Murphy intervenes and She calls to say that she would be late. Traffic. At that point, I am now struggling to keep my eyes open. I am so tired, that the room is spinning. To add to my state of mind, at that point, I was starting to imagine that the only natural conclusion to such a day would be that my date turns out to be my Ex in real life. You know, like the “Do you like Pina Colada and Champagne song”. Anyhow, I was too tied to care.

At 9:03pm, my phone rings, she is here, I slowly stand up and look around and….

There she is. And, it’s not my ex. In fact she is quite different than my ex. She looks different, she dresses different and she walks different. Even in my tired, dazed state, I could tell it was not my ex. I said hello and we proceed to head to the table. She thought I let her walk in front out of politeness but I was just worried that she would notice the huge stain on my jeans. Adrenaline was kicking in at that point and I was quickly recovering. Did I mention that the stain was in a strategic location on my jeans? I wouldn’t have wanted her to think I had an orgasm just from seeing her. Or worse, that I peed myself

I sat, making sure she would not notice the missing button (I am not sure if she did or not) and proceeded to talk to her.

This is where the big surprise came. Murphy had apparently called it a day. Because, not only was this girl cute, she was also smart. A lot smarter than me at least (I am just being modest). She had a nice sense of humor. Told me 7 times during dinner that what I was saying was rubbish and completely wrong (I am not sure if men usually find this insulting, but I found it amusing). As she was talking to me about this or that, I was looking at her with a smile on my face. She thought I was making fun at her and laughing at her, but in fact, I was wondering what such a smart woman was doing there, sitting across the table from me. While that conversation was going on, my dating advisor, Noora from Sex And Dubai, kept calling and pestering me for information. Of course I ignored her, not wanting to interrupt the interesting conversation I was having. And, frankly, afraid that my date would use any pause in the conversation as an excuse to ask for the check and end the evening.

Eventually, all good things must come to an end and we asked for the check. As we were walking out the restaurant I walked in front for a split second to open a door and I am quite sure she noticed the stain, the missing button and so many other things.

As she was getting into her car, I had a smile on my face for I knew that I had just met a wonderful lady. “Too bad”, I thought to myself, “That I am not her type”.

She drove off into the Dubai night and I am quite sure that she will not give me a second chance to use the brand new jeans that I will have to buy. But, that’s okay, win some, lose some, the important thing is to have enjoyed it. And that, I did

Haroun El Poussah

I disagree

2006-11-10T18:55:00.000+04:00

It has been argued to me that Globalization is just another form of Colonization and that it stifles individualism and kills the heritage and cultures around the world. It has been argued that Globalization is to be resisted at all cost.

I feel that while Colonization was a mandatory consequence of a military conflict while Globalization is the result of the overwhelming success of a way of life. These are fundamental differences that, on the long run, will lead to the inevitable dominance of globalization.

Globalization, is, in my opinion, a good thing. While I agree that cultures will disappear and centuries old heritage will be wipe out as a result, I also believe that Globalization will eradicate some of the world’s most controversial issues such as racism, wars, religions, poverty, access to medicine, etc. As the world becomes of one mind, differences between people will cease to be measured along the lines of race, religion or nationality. The world will be divided between the haves and the have-nots. And, while like everywhere else, there will be tension between these two groups, they will, at least, understand each other.

Globalization is the unquestionable conclusion to capitalism. We cannot escape it. It will have some sad consequences but it’s inevitability compels us to accept it or be wiped aside by it.

The only question I have is whether I will be given a second chance to make my case

Haroun El Poussah

Death by boredom

2006-11-09T14:26:00.000+04:00

Me: Hi, how are you
She: Good
Me: How was your day?
She: Good
Me: Busy day?
She: Yes
Me: Is this a new hair style?
She: Yes
Me: So, what are you going to order?
She: Shrimps
Me: The Szechuan is very good here
She Shrimps
Me: I love this place, have you been here before?
She: No
Me: I like it, it’s big, open and the service is great
She: Yes
Me: So, what do you do in Dubai when not working?
She: Rest
Me: And? What else
She: Nothing
Me: And on week ends?
She: Nothing
Me: Come on you can’t do nothing, do you watch television, go to the movies, the beach?
She: Yes
Me: What are your hobbies
She: Hot air balloons
Me: Wow, that’s interesting, you do it regularly?
She: No
Me: Are you member of a club?
She: no
Me: Do you need a certification to fly in one?
She: Yes
Me: Do you have one?
She: Yes
Me: From the UAE?
She: No
Me: ….

Haroun El Poussah

Modern Dating Techniques

2006-11-08T17:34:00.000+04:00

As you may know, I now have a new team of advisors for my Dating Adventures in Dubai. Yes, Noora and Layala have agreed to provide me with the tips and tricks required to find a perfect date in Dubai.

Yesterday, while I was having dinner with my friends and the girl they wanted to introduce me to, Layala called me to start our relationship. Obviously I could not take the call so she proceeded to give me all the tips by sms

"make her laugh"
"appear interested"
"sit up straight"
"don't scratch yourself in front of her"
"treat her nicely"

The tips were endless and to the point. I immediately stopped scratching my private parts in front of my date and proceeded to do so under the table away from view. It seems that my underwear had shrank in the washing machine and was really giving me an itch. This is what happens when your ex was responsible for the washing machine and you have no idea how to operate one. Anyhow, I am digressing

During the course of the evening Layala and I were SMS'ing back and forth with reports and tips. Of course this was all new and exciting to me so I seemed to have forgotten my manners, until Noora butted in with an SMS telling me it was rude to be texting on a date and that I should channel my efforts into my date instead! Technology has advanced since the last time I dated, so I never had to worry about these things back then!

After the date (I got the girl's phone number and we have a follow up tonight), I called Layala back. I am not allowed to tell you much about Layala herself. I am not allowed to tell you if she has a sexy voice (she does) or where she is from. However, I can tell you that I got very good advice from her:

"be a man"
"When you want to dump a girl, call her and tell her"
"Don't disappear"
"Be polite"
"Open the doors once in a while"
"Be a man"
"Unless you are totally hideous you should be able to get a date"
"Ooops, are you to totally hideous?"

And the list goes on. I have a set of very engaged advisors who are looking after my best interest. Now, all I need is a successful second date tonight and I am all set for my dinner tomorrow. Wish me luck

Haroun El Poussah

Margaret Thatcher Called

2006-11-07T12:48:00.000+04:00

Yesterday, my Ex called!

After 2 months without so much as a whisper, it seems that she now broke up with her boyfriend, read the blog and proposed to join me at the Thursday dinner.

I told her that I would rather go with a Pregnant, emasculated cockroach than with her. I am not sure she took it in the spirit with which it was said because she burst out laughing. I intended to be rude, obnoxious, detestable, vile, revolting and truthful. She thought I was joking. You’d think that after 6 years together she would know better

Anyhow, when she understood that I was quite serious, she proceeded to recommend a friend of hers that we both know is indeed a Pregnant, emasculated cockroach. She said we would be perfect there together.

It goes to show that you can be with a woman for 6 years and not know the first thing about her. Or maybe, it goes to show that, over 6 years I was so mean to her that I transformed her into the woman she is today. Who know?

That, however, does not solve my Thursday night dilemma.

Tonight a couple that I know have invited me to dinner and are bringing a lady that they know and think would be perfect for me (and me for her I hope). I have been friends with these people for quite a while and they know me very well. I trust their judgment and am looking forward to meeting that girl. I will try to be my usual charming self…

One thing I don’t do in early dates is open the car door, pull chairs at restaurants, walk her to the door (unless I want a kiss) or be overly polite. I always think that the worse thing you can do is set a standard early on that you are not prepared to carry on for ever. It creates disappointment and gives the girl the feeling that early on it was all an act to impress her. I prefer to be my usual inconsiderate self from the beginning, this way I avoid disappointment and the woman knows exactly what she is getting herself into. My old advisors used to tell me that this is bullshit and that I should lie my teeth out in the beginning, get her interested, get her in bed and then drop the act when she can’t move away. I wonder what my new team of advisors thinks about that…

Haroun El Poussah

Escort Girl

2006-11-05T14:57:00.000+04:00

Wow, two posts today! This is what happens when you are sitting at work in a state of BBB (Boredom Beyond Belief)…

Escort girls. I have been asked whether I would consider escort girls. I had mentioned before that I had never paid for sex and the question came about using an Escort girl for my Dinner on Thursday.

Interesting suggestion. I am thinking as I write here. The thought had never crossed my mind. Let’s see.

The Pros

1. I can select the girl myself
2. She will smile no matter what stupid thing I say
3. She will be on time
4. She will not expect a kiss in front of everyone just because the Girlfriend of that other guy there is being kissed
5. She will not want to hold hands in front of my boss and his boss
6. She will let me lead
7. She will not require constant attention
8. She will do as she is told (A big plus)

The Cons

1. It is an admission of failure on my part
2. It is expensive
3. If she is expensive, several former clients might be there

Well, looks like the Pros outnumber the Cons 3 to 1. I think, though, the problem I would have with it is that an escort girl, by definition, would not meet my standards. While I must admit I neither know, nor have met an escort girl before and I could be generalizing, I find it difficult to believe that I will find one that I would be comfortable being with at that dinner.

You see, when going to such an event with a lady, I must be able to feel that she is an extension of myself. That we walk as one, think as one, talk as one. Could this be achieved with an escort girl whom I have hired for the night?

Well, I do rent cars sometimes, my villa is rented, my furniture is rented, etc, why not rent my date? Is it cruel to compare the lady to a car? Not really, I don’t think so, after all, she selected to be part of that comparison. She selected to provide a service so why should I not compare it to any other service?

However, in conclusion, I don’t think I will got that route, the admission of failure and sense of loss would be too great. If I started there, there would be no reason not to upgrade to the next logical step… sex

Haroun El Poussah

You're Fired!

2006-11-05T14:32:00.000+04:00

So, after reading Sex-And-Dubai’s comment on the post below about Long’s bar, I decided to do some investigations and I went to the Buddha Bar (I had never been there before). Upon entering the place, I could tell immediately that she was correct in suggesting it. The people there were much more to my liking and “my style” than at Long’s. No comparison.

Having seen that, I immediately called my team of advisors and, in the purest Apprentice tradition, I fired them all.

Now, I find myself alone in my quest, until I noticed that Sex-And-Dubai has suggested I hire them as the new team. So, if this offer was a genuine one, my answer is: Name you price, you’re hired!

Haroun El Poussah

Failure to Launch

2006-11-04T21:32:00.000+04:00

After considerable debate with my “team”, I decided to ignore their advise and to go with the simple jeans/shirt look. After all, this is who I am and I didn’t want to portray myself as something I am not.

So, my mission was to find a date for my Thursday night dinner. I arrived at the Long’s bar and joined my group of friend and we proceeded to rank all the women in the bar on a scale from 1 to 10. We unanimously decided that I would not “make a move” on anyone below a 7.

Out of the 17 woman in the bar only 5 qualified for an approach. I selected the one with the most beautiful smile (an 8 on the overall scale) and proceeded to debate with the “team” what would the next step be. She seemed to be with a group of girls and she seemed to be un-accompanied. I got several suggestions as to how to proceed.

Find out what she was drinking and send her a refill
Keep staring at her until she notices then smile
Bump into her by “accident” and apologies
Etc

I, myself, was leaning towards one of two approaches. Either walk up to her and introduce myself or wait until one of her companions goes to the bar and ask for some help.

After considerable debate with the group, I decided to just walk up to her and introduce myself.

“Good evening, my name is Haroun”, I said with my most beautiful smile. “So What?”, she replied. Well, she instantly went from a 8 to a 2 on my scale and I retreated to my corner, trying to find a mouse hole to crawl into and hide.

My friends and I proceed to evaluate the rest of the room and we settled on a 9 that was obviously alone and seemed to have a killer body. This time I decided to follow my team’s advice and I sent her a refill for the Black Russian she was drinking. She looked at me, smiled, lifted her glass and gestured me to come over. I walked over to her, introduced myself and she replied: “2000 Dirham for the night”. For those of you living in the real world, that’s about $600.

I promptly retreated to my corner, battered, shattered and wondering if this would ever work. My friend and I were desperate at this point. There was only one woman above a 7 left in the room and she was obviously with someone. I was starting to think that finding a date for my dinner on Thursday would be much more difficult than I originally thought.

I decided to leave that dreadful place and go home. On my way, I stopped at Zaatar we Zeit to get something to eat to counteract that effect off all the alcohol I had had this night. As I was waiting in line for my Manaish, I notice a definite 10 behind me in the line. WOW, was she beautiful. She was definitely French, blonde (Which I like), brown eyes (ok with me) and tall (good for me as well). I stood there in the queue agonizing as to how to start a conversation. I knew most men would offer to pay for her Manaish, but the kind of girl I was looking for would definitely refuse and think of me as cheap. I didn’t know if she was the type of girl I was looking for, but I still had to find another way. I turned around and….

Her husband was standing next to her

Haroun El Poussah

Mission Impossible

2006-11-03T13:20:00.000+04:00

Next Thursday I have a dinner to go to. A dinner that requires me to have a date! And, if this wasn’t a big enough challenge, I am required to have a date that is both good looking and smart. So, from tonight until Thursday, I will be on an impossible mission: To find myself a decent date for the dinner.

Knowing that I was not armed with the proper weapons for this mission, I called in reinforcements in the form of a “player” friend of mine and started to ask him for some pointers and ammunition for my mission.

First on my list was the pick up line. Times have changed since I last had to use one and I was not sure that “Would you like to boogie” was still in vogue. My friend being a true ladies’ man (As sex-in-Dubai puts it in the comments “An asshole”), I thought he might have some much needed advice to give me. He came up with some gems that I thought would be worth mentioning here as he explains to me that they are the trend of the day.

I have a BMW would you like to go for a ride?
What time is it? I left my Rolex at home
Can I buy you a drink or would you like a slip?
Etc

It seems to me that the emphasis has shifted from what it was in my time (Showing how interesting you are) to showing how big your bank account it. While I would be classified by most a fairly well off in that department, I feel that there must be something much more substantive in the pick up line that I shall be using. After talking to several other “experts” and getting lines totally consistent with those above, it seems that I will have to rely on myself to find the right one. Of course, if the readers of this blog would like to contribute some ideas, they would be very much appreciated.

After the pick up line, it was time for me to seek some wardrobe help. You see, I am strictly and jeans/T Shirt and formal suit man. Meaning that I either go for the very simple jeans, sneakers and T shirt combination, or the formal suit and tie. I do not own anything in between as I never had a need for it. I have been told that this will not do and some friends have scheduled trip to Ralph Laurent and some other stores to replenish my stock and revive my wardrobe. Apparently, it is an integral part of the process. Sounds stupid to me, but I am willing to follow the advice of experts.

So, tonight I will be on supervised leash and let loose on the women in one of Dubai’s most popular clubs. My friends will be around, supervising my performance and giving me pointers. From my side, I don’t know why I don’t just pick up the phone and call the list of woman I know and ask them for a favor. But, I guess this way will be more fun.

I shall, of course, report back regularly on the progress of my efforts.

Haroun El Poussah

Hows & Whys

2006-11-01T21:19:00.000+04:00

I have been lambasted in the comments of my last post for not accepting “offered pussy” and for not taking advantage of quick, guilt free sex.

I thought, since these are chronicles of my Dubai Dating Adventures, that I should clarify this point. If only to avoid such comments in the future.

Guilt free sex is available all the time. If I wanted to have some, all I would have to do is spend a couple of hours in one of Dubai’s night clubs and I would surely be able to go home with company at my side; Company willing to engage in guilt free, kinky sex all night till the birds fall.

The reasons I don’t go for that are numerous and complex.

First, I find it difficult to jump in the sack with mentally retarded girls. They bore me to death and no amount of foreplay and/or sex can stop me from dreading the “conversation after”. Indeed there is nothing I hate more in the world than having to lay next to a naked woman and think to my self that she is so dumb that I have nothing to say to her

Second, I don’t find such women attractive at all. Although the physical attributes are as important to me as they are to anyone else, it is the mental attributes that I find really exciting in a girl. If she can challenge my mind and keep me interested, I will be physically interested as well. Otherwise, I might as well pay for it; I will probably get better quality of sex (If I pay high enough)

Third, I love the chase. I love the time it takes for me to convince myself and my date that we should explore the satin sheets together. I love the mental duel that comes with the slow or fast progression of a casual encounter, into a date, into interest and finally into a physical relationship. While, like anybody else, I dread failure, I relish success too much to settle for some broad that offers it on a plate without any type of qualification. Also, in the same way that she passed my “examination”, I like to think that I passed hers and that her acceptance bar was set very high. When obviously it is not, I lose interest

Fourth, like many male specimens of our species, I like the “conqueror’ feeling. I like to feel that I worked hard for a woman’s heart and that she is in bed with me because I conquered it. If she just walks up to me and offers me her pussy, I will want her heart and mind too. And, in the case of Reema, her mind was too small for a conqueror, it was barely large enough for a worm to crawl through.

Fifth, it is also about respecting the girls that came before. See, each girl that came before was special in some way. If I lower my standards to sleeping with Reema; I, by inference, aM insulting every girl that came before. I associate and compare each one of them to Reema. This, to me, is not acceptable

Sixth and last, it is about respecting myself. I truly believe that at the moment of orgasm, I share something with my partner. Be it a spiritual connection, bodily fluids, body parts or simply nails in the flesh, there is something that is shared. I am very particular about whom I share bodily fluids or anything else with

This will probably make no sense to anyone out there and I am expecting that I will get many comments explaining to me how stupid I am. Fair enough, that is your way, this one is mine. I reserve the right, throughout these chronicles, to stick my dick in pussies of my choice.

Haroun El Poussah

Reema

2006-10-30T18:21:00.000+04:00

So, we met up for Dinner. After considerable debate with the Hotel concierge, I decided to leave the hotel and reserve in a Lebanese place called Tannourin (Or something similar). A nice little restaurant where we could have some decent food and a few beers.

We met in the hotel lobby and I told her of the plans. She seemed disappointed. She said: “Let’s stay close to the rooms, you never know where this evening might lead to”. Obviously, I was encouraged by this comment, it seemed like I might have some “fun”… Finally.

However, considering that I do have some standards and minimum requirements for ladies I jump into bed with, I insisted on dinner outside. I thought that if I didn’t like her I could just have the taxi deposit her at her hotel (Sheraton) on the way back.

We arrived at the restaurant and were directed to a table for 4. Now, I am a bit old fashion and I like to sit opposite my date. I mean, it allows for easier conversation and it would also give me a perfect, un-obstructed view of her perfect smile. She came and sat NEXT to me. Hummm…

We sat, she ordered scotch (weird for a woman) and I ordered a beer as I always do. Then she looked me straight in the eyes:

Reema: “I want to fuck”
Me: (Blushing, tomatoing, gasping)
Reema: “I want to fuck now!”
Me: “Errrr”
Reema: “I only have one day here, why are we spending it here instead of bed?”
Me: “Errr, I can’t fuck on an empty stomach”
Reema: “??Excuse me?”
Me: “I can’t get it up on an empty stomach, so I guess we are stuck here if you wanna fuck”

Having read all the comments that you, encouraging souls, have left on the blog about her being a whore, I was naturally defensive. For those of you who will continue to read those chronicles, I must clarify that I have never paid for sex and never will. Absolutely never, no matter what the consequences. And, in this case I was starting to have my doubts about her integrity and whoreness

So, we sat there, and I was getting neck pains from trying to talk to her sitting next to me. I mean, how convenient is it to try to engage conversations with someone sitting to your right? I am sure I will wake up in the morning with neck pains and will be unable to turn my head. We talked about many things, here’s a summary:

1. 9/11 was organized by the Japanese
2. Brad Pitt is hot
3. Last year she visited Portugal and spent 2 weeks in the Capital Madrid
4. France won the world cup
5. Zidane is hot
6. Kuwait is in Africa
7. Saudis are hot

So, after 90 excrutiating minutes of this blabbing nonsense, I paid the bill and asked for a taxi. When she heard me ask the driver to take us to the Sheraton she said: “You wanna fuck in my room? Let’s go to yours”. And, I told her: “Sorry, the food was not that good, I won’t be able to get it up. I am so sorry. Maybe tomorrow”

So, dear readers, once again, disappointment was on the menu…

Haroun El Poussah

Amman Nights

2006-10-29T14:11:00.000+04:00

This morning I landed in Amman and I was standing in line for passport control I noticed a lady in another line eying me with a big smile on her face. At first, I was not too sure it was me she was eying, but after looking behind me, to my left and to might right, it appeared that it was either me or the 12 year old Cameroonians to my right.

I was flattered, so flattered that I smile back. Of course I was helped by the fact that she was quite good looking. She was definitely my type. She was dressed casually (Jeans) yet elegantly, walked with an attitude and has that wonderful smile. She was carrying a laptop travel bag telling me that she was here on business.

Unfortunately for me, she cleared passport control before I did and my hopes of getting an opportunity to talk to her vanished.

When I cleared customs and stepped outside in the airport building, I was shocked to see that she was standing there, apparently waiting for someone. As I got closer, she looked at me, smiled and started to walk towards me. I blushed. IN fact I turned tomato red. She walked just up to me and said: “Hi, I am Reema”.

For those of you who don’t know me, I ma not a natural with women. I blush a lot and am not as forward as I should be if I wanna be successful

Nevertheless, I managed to answer: “Hi, I am Nahoun, err, Hounan, err, Houhan, err, Haroun, Haroun El Poussah”

The conversation followed:

Reema: “Nice to meet you. Which hotel are you staying in?
Me: “Four Season”
Reema: Me too, Me too. How about Dinner tonight?”
Me: “…..”
Reema: 9pm?

So, it looks like I have a date. Wish me luck

Haroun El Poussah

This is going to be harder than I thought

2006-10-26T14:30:00.000+04:00

So, last night I had a blind date that was arranged by a co-worker. I was sitting at the designated table in Biella, she came in, stopped, looked around, saw me, turn around and left.

Haroun El Poussah

Old enough to procreate, old enough to date?

2006-10-25T15:33:00.000+04:00

My first experience was last night.

I was told by a friend of mine that a friend of one of his friends had a friend, who had a friend, who had a cousin, who had a brother, who had a friend who was single. “Practically family” is what he said.

After a quick brainstorm as to the best way for me to meet this supposedly gorgeous single lady, and after I vetoed nightclubs, it was agreed that a dinner at Cucina in the Marriott would be arranged and that she would be seated next to me.

Since we were going to be about 25 people (all the “friends” were showing up) we decided to book the entire upper floor of the restaurant.

I got there fashionable early as I thought I should for a first “date/Encounter”. Obviously I am getting old and haven’t dated in a while because no one showed up les than 30 minutes late. So, 50 minutes late she shows up. I must admit that, at first, I thought she was the kid sister of one of the guys. She looked 15 and was acting 12. I only figured out that she was my “date” when she was promptly seated next to me. So, I tried to engage conversation. I didn’t know what topic of conversation to open with such a young lady. I assumed the Ken and Barbie were out and these were the only things that I know about 12 year olds. You see, I have been raised a perfect gentleman and I would never ask a lady her age.

“I am 20” she volunteered out of the blue. I thought that this was a bit too young for me and I mentioned this to my friend. He said that 20 years old were the best marriage material since you can mold them to your liking. I tried to explain to him that Marriage was not what I was looking for but to no avail.

Apparently there are only two first date options in Dubai

1. Group dating in anticipation to an engagement proposal
2, Chit chat and lots of drinks in anticipation for guilt free drunken sex

Well, since I am not interested in either (For the time being at least… I am not YET that desperate), I politely ignored her the entire evening.

However… (You simply knew that I would not write anything if the evening had been THAT boring). So… However, at the other end of the table there was a lady sitting. She must have been 28-30. She had one of those captivating smiles. The kind of smiles that make you dream about what might be and what would be. I managed to catch her eyes from across the room and we exchanged one of those nods that might say so much but often say nothing more than: “Yes, I saw you looking at me, please look elsewhere you idiot”

Under the table, I started smsing everyone for information on her. Turns out she is married with 4 kids… Oh, well, a wasted evening!!

Haroun El Poussah

Introduction

2006-10-25T13:19:00.000+04:00

So, who am I and why this blog?

I am 37 and recently separated from my long time girlfriend. Which means that I am now "in the market" for a new relationship. Over the last week or so, I spent most of my time trying to remember the abc of dating. You see, dear reader, it has been so long since I have been on a date that I had forgotten the very basics. For instance, last time I was on a date, I paid for everything, now, my friends tell me, we go Finladian (Each pays half). In the past, a first date was a meal, maybe a walk, and asking for a new date. Today, I am told, it's a meal at McDonald's, followed by a quick trip to Spinney's to buy some Durex, followed by a night of sex and, maybe, coffee the next morning. Unless the sex was bad in which case she disappears early. In the past, during a first date, I tried to be funny, witty, smart and well mannered. Now, I am told, I should put the keys to my BMW on the table for her to notice, I should wear my Rolex and tell her how expensive my previous holidays to Monte Carlo was. A long time ago, in what seems like a galaxy far, far away, I would select an out of the way, cozy, romantic restaurant. Now, I am told that a small, very crowded (The more the better), with mind shatteringly high music that tare your ear drums apart forever, smelly, full of cigarette smoke place would be very much appreciated.

So, I have put some rules to my going back into the game:

1- I shall not sleep with the woman on the first date
2- I shall pay for the first date
3- I will not cheat on any. I might date several in parallel (Yeah, right) but I shall not sleep with more than one (As if I could even if I wanted to)
4- I shall not lie. I shall represent the truth under its most favorable angle

So, ladies and gentleman, these are my chronicles. The stories of my dates. Each story will be different but they will all be true...

Wish me luck...

Haroun El Poussah