An Afternoon with H.

So. I’m going to recount now my experience of this afternoon, which is typical of all my relationships with Moroccan men.

I’ve known Hafid for a while. He runs a babouche shop in Essaouira and works nights in a hotel. We’ve had a few conversations, and they’ve all been fairly low key. So when I ran into him on the way out to the beach, and we’d both planned to take a walk down to Diabat, it made sense for us to walk together.

The way out was easy. We chatted about inconsequential things: weather, our families, business in Morocco. I waded barefoot in the water as is my custom, and I laughed when he soaked the hems of his jeans in the surf.

The way back was harder. Somewhere he got the bright idea to tell me “tu me plait,” (literally, “you please me”). I laughed and said that was nice of him to say. But he started insisting, “no, really, I like you a lot, you’re very nice…”etc. Which, if you’re a guy, is exactly the wrong thing to say to me. Because it’s always the start of something awkward.

He continued to tell me that he wanted a relationship with me, a nice, honest relationship. And I told him, honestly, that I only wanted a lighthearted friendship, and none of this relationship stuff. And he wouldn’t accept that. He kept asking why, and I kept saying that there are lots of reasons, none of which really bear discussion at this point. And I danced my verbal dance around him, and he knew I was dancing and evading the question, and he wouldn’t accept that I wouldn’t answer. He wanted to know the main reason. But the main reason is one that I can’t tell. Because “I’m not heterosexual” is not an answer that he would be able to hear.