My date did seem too good to be true.
He was close to my age, and worked at an NGO for refugees. He was a committed meditator and volunteer. He was Lebanese-born and traveled all around the Middle East for work. I let myself to get a tiny bit excited.
He had texted consistently (but not obsessively) over the past few days. he asked if I needed anything during the storm, mentioning several times that he’d love to have a coffee or a drink before I return to Fethiye. He lives in Besiktas, so yesterday, once I knew I was headed here, I messaged to tell him so. And then: you guessed it! Radio silence.
It’s so almost-funny, you’d think it were the plot of a TV show. This guy, the last guy (who reappeared the following morning, saying he hadn’t responded “due to stomach problems”). My friend who promised to dog-sit Django when I went to get my hair done and then slept through my calls, then promised to make up for it by dog-sitting two days later, and slept through them again. Old Aaron, whom I haven’t heard a peep from.
At a certain point it’s hard not to feel like it’s me.
And more to the point, it’s hard not to stop giving anyone any kind of chance, and shut down trust completely. I see how destructive that is, how harmful and how against everything I believe in. I know there are cultural differences at play, too.
But still, man. Still.
It snowed like gangbusters last night. Charles, whose flat I’m staying in, is English but lived in Thailand for 20 years, so he cooked us amazing Thai food for dinner. While he is not for me in “that way”, it was so refreshing to be around a human male who asks questions, and listens without interrupting.
We talked about the culture here, and both wondered why misogyny is still such an accepted part of daily life. We discussed how we’ve learned how boys here are still very much raised to be tough and not have feelings, and how girls are raised to be validated by boys. Would even trying to raise a male-identifying child here to be gentle, sensitive and caring would be setting him up for a lifetime of bullying (or worse)? We also agreed that the Turkish culture is so much warmer, more hospitable, and more laid back than our Western ways. We both love that part of living here.
Charles works shifts and went to bed early, and I took Django for his nighttime walk. There were families and gangs of friends all over, taking turns sledding down the steep streets on sheets of plastic and garbage can lids, having snowball fights and posing for photos. Their joy about the snow was contagious, even when I got hit in the head (possibly not by accident).
I woke up the next morning to a text from Charles, telling me I had to get myself to the park because it was so beautiful out. I hauled myself and Django out of bed and up the hill our little patch of greenery. This park, by the way, has an outdoor cat hotel for the many strays who live in the area. People come to feed and water them regularly.
We walked around in a daze. We greeted the statues of Important Turkish Men as they surveyed the remnants of the storm. We drank in the light sparkling off the snow, feeling a little bit sad and a little bit grateful; a little bit lonely and a little bit loved.