Saturday, January 7, 2006

He says “Don’t fall in love with me”. I accept that. For now. I relax, enjoy the days we share, don’t stress about the days we don’t share, and take it one day at a time.

The thing is, he was born in Jordan (the country) which makes him Jordanian, and therefore makes him Muslim. He came to the States at the age of 15, which means he can still identify strongly with his homeland. The thing is, he has told me 1 story about his childhood, 1 single story, and I was fascinated by it. I am so blasted curious about what his life was like there, was his house big, was his father rich, what was school like, what did he do as a child for fun, did he have Christmas and Santa Claus like we do, and if not, what did they have?

I want to know what life in Jordan was like, and what it means to be Muslim. What kind of restrictions does that place on his life? Yet, I don’t want to ask him all the questions bubbling up inside of me, because it will sound like an inquisition. I want to know all of these things so that I can better understand him, and somehow feel closer to him. It’s because I care, I want to learn about what is important to him.

Yet, would learning all of that be viewed by him as another step closer to falling in love with him?

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