Back in the Fall of 2014, I had met someone here on a study abroad program at Wellesley College. She was from Egypt. It was late October or early Nov. I can't recall. After hitting it off we began what became a short-lived relationship until she left in December. We stayed in touch via the wonderful world of technology and it was kind of a muse situation. She was over 5,000 miles away and this is probably why this particular situation worked out. I was lying to myself at the time. She was in love. She was a very good person. better than you or I. We talked about future and eventually, when we'd meet again. We spoke for nearly a year until I visited in late September into October. it was the longest 'vacation' I'd ever been on to date. 10 days. (really 8 as first and last were spent travelling)
I was 22 when we met. 23 When I visited. It was an interesting and unique situation. I don't mean to get too in depth with it here as this is not the purpose of this post, but I suppose it's the best time to whether I want to or not. I was 22 and I had just gotten out of what I now know was an abusive relationship. At this point in Nov. of 2014, we had split with what I thought was a mutual agreement. She then began incessantly begging to hang out and see me. She was in denial. I wanted a clean break. She pestered in an incredibly unhealthy way and it was a very sticky situation as I was living in a spare room at her dad's condo. Yep.
I will now tell you a brief part of this story that I regret to this day. A piece of the puzzle that I attribute to the whole shit-show that ensued afterwards from her including the police, near restraining orders, stalking, psychotic breaks on her part, borderline homelessness, etc. She gained access to my notebook, which I kept by my bed under a dresser. My bed was on the floor. I had no other furniture there. You couldn't fit my box spring up the stairs and we only barely managed to squeeze my mattress up there. It was sitting on a twin size box spring, and both ends that hung off I shoved bottles and books under. it was class all around. Anyway, my notebook I wrote in was directly next to my bed, underneath a dresser. It was not hidden well. She'd stayed with me obviously and I wasn't afraid at the time she'd go through it. She knew exactly where it was.
Now, I usually tell people she gained access when i wasn't there, as it was her father's place. She very well might have and probably did. But the piece I leave out is that I knew exactly when it happened. After a solid month or so of not being together, we agreed to go to my stepbrother's wedding together. Huge mistake. A part I don't wish to relive. She cried all night, in front of everybody, it's the only time I've screamed at someone. She wouldn't stop begging to talk. I didn't want to. I wanted to go, pretend, and be done with it. I hadn't told my parents or anyone yet really. But she made a spectacle of it, crying throughout and yes, she caught the bouquet. She cried, forced me to dance. We fought out in the parking lot. Finally we left, and eventually talked that night.
We were not together, and we went to her father's, my room, which was never hers, but mine, and we slept together once outside of our relationship. It was very much a "fuck it." moment and even more a, "fuck you." moment. It was mutual and consensual. It was relieving. We had talked, and agreed this was not going to work, and this was the end and the last time. I suppose there hadn't been a true finale to the physical part of the relationship and that's what she wanted. I was ready to flush her out of my life at that point but sure, fine, let's. So we did. I regret it. It's the only time I'd been outside of a relationship and had any physical contact with a person. What the fuck was I thinking?
I left the room at some point to shower. It was then I believe she went through my things. Either that, or I had left for work the next day. She was left alone, as i still trusted her as a person despite our differences. What a damn mistake on my part. She discovered I had talked to someone else. Merely talked. This particular entry, I was very in depth about when i would see her again, which was the next night. As I am visiting my new, now-friend from Egypt, I get texts berating me and asking where I am. Obviously at this point it's none of her business and I politely tell her off as such. She THEN begins and kicks off this whole tyranical destructive behavior that ensues and escalates over the next 9 months, by TELLING me, exactly where I am. She tells me she knows where I am. I call her bluff, and she says so. That I'm in Wellesley. Wow. I can't fathom how she'd know, other than that she talked to my good friend that her and I were mutually close to. I began questioning him. "did you fucking tell her where I was?" I don't remember if I called, texted, or festered without mentioning it for a while, leaving myself to assume. But eventually he had to tell me he had zero part in it and didn't in fact tell her.
I felt like a shit head for blaming him for a day or two. What a piece of trash I was. He was still close, at this point to keep close to the enemy and make sure we were ahead of her at all times, and she lied to him, the first of many, that she had "accidentally found" my journal. She claimed she was getting some of her things out, which she had very little, and accidentally read it. One of which such entries, (a page or two back) conveniently mention jokingly that I was going to end it. I was dramatic in my writing. Boy I had no idea how far the other shoe could drop and how I'd feel a few years later haha, anyway... She took this small paragraph, which was clearly slightly sarcastic in nature as I continued another about my new friend, to contact every. single. person. in my life and tell them that she was afraid I was going to commit suicide. What ensued has been documented extensively in my journal, which I did not write in for 4 months as i was traumatized. Not only that but I wasn't validated until months later when she finally spilled the beans to someone else she deliberately went through it with full intention of finding things out. This, after a few other lies and stories of how she discovered it.
So as this is happening, I am continuing my budding friendship-turned-relationship with this woman from Egypt. It's very much a vacation for me. As this is happening, my living situation is decaying fast into oblivion as this man, her father has no idea and I need to keep it that way, and at the same time. My RV, which is now practically abandon is sitting out on the curb out front being vandalized several times and the cops, the condo association and her dad are breathing down my neck to move it. I cannot as I have no money. It was the most stressful time in my life. I had true nightmares. I once had a movie-esque experience where I shot straight up in bed and screamed at the top of my lungs in the middle of the nightmare. I was dreaming someone was breaking into the RV. (we had staked out a few times to try to catch said person. My van was also in need of repair.
So this was very good for me, escaping. I tried going down as much as I could. Every day towards the end. I only had a month with this and really only a few weeks in retrospect. She was very interesting and I was so intrigued by her past and life in Egypt. In hindsight, she was simply a naive foreigner who happened to be the only person to talk to me that day and decided to actually meet. She didn't know how people would take advantage of her here (thank god it was me I suppose) and was such an innocent human being. We talked. We talked and talked and talked and talked. We would lie on a couch by a fire in a common room in a dining hall building with a Steinway (yes, a Steinway, this was Wellesley after all) and we talked until the early hours of the morning. I needed that at the time. I also kept her from a lot.
Nermin (pronounced ner-meen) was a Coptic Christian. Take the most hardcore Christian in the United States and triple it. That's how devout she was. But she was into me. What I'm getting at here, is eventually, after my visit, her plans with me were set in stone and I was not ready to lie, become a Christian for her sake, or settle down living my life half in another country. As enticing and cheaply it was to live in Egypt. In December. When she left, we didn't know if we'd see each other again. She also had accumulated a few things she couldn't take back with her. One of those, was a bamboo plant which her and her French roommate named "Nuit Etoile" French for starry night. A Van Gogh painting. Up until just now I remember it being something Hillary related as that whole thing had only kicked off. Her French roommate and everybody in the college was rooting for her to begin running as Hillary graduated from Wellesley. At least I remember it being Hillary related. But I guess not. There's a stick on the side of the pot the plant's in that says so.
She gave this to me. Nuit Etoilee. It was a 3 stalk bamboo plant that represents good luck. She told me this. I am told the significance of the 3 stalks together represented good luck. It was a bit ceremonial in her giving it to me, so I didn't question and took it as such. i guess it's not about if it's true or not, it's the significance you or others put on it. So to me, it wasn't just a plant, it was this representation of our friendship, relationship, love, and now, good luck.
I babied and nurtured it all year in my room. I would take pictures of it's progress. I even moved it from the clear cup it was it with rocks, to an official little blue pot. I even bought potting soil if you can believe it. I trimmed it as instructed by the official Youtube bamboo pro online. Yes. I feared for this thing's life. All this responsibility on me. The whole year it was watered and stayed intact. It grew incredibly. 2016 I moved into an apartment with my sister. It survived there was well pretty in tact. It wasn't until I moved back in to my parent's place where it began it's decline. It all began when I had to leave it abruptly for 4 straight months. I asked for it to be watered occasionally. But eventually, it died. One stalk died as I think it was exposed to direct sunlight in the window. I removed it, the second stalk died from 4 months of no water. Fine, one left. I decided I'd be extra careful. I mean fuck, if I can't take care of a lucky BAMBOO plant (the name of the specific bamboo plant, lucky bamboo) which are supposedly incredibly resilient plants, then what good was I?
Well, now, this week, the last final stalk is yellowing. I'm not sure it can be saved. They say yellowing stalked can't be. It might be doomed. I am a failure in this respect. It's symbolic in so many ways. It's one of the final representations of that friendship, as well as a representation of the lack of luck I have. It's fitting really. I told myself (sarcastically really and in a time of deep depression) that I'd end it once this thing died. Now, here it is. I'll try to save it as best I can, but no promises. It's pretty gone. We'll see. I'm no expert.
The point is, it's the end of an era. It almost lasted 3 years. The nurture, care, and neglect of this plant. The last 6 months or so I've been on top of it. watering, mixing up the soil, and making sure it was upright, in tact, alive, away from harm and watered. But as all things do, it's dying. or dead. I could've cared more about it and there's a solid chance all 3 stalks could be alive today, actually, more than solid. But that's the breaks. It's a very sad day though. It's the end of that time, a closure of sorts. I deserve it though. It's easy to break it off with someone continents away. I was a jerk. I took advantage of this person's trust. I deserve everything I've ever gotten I suppose in some odd way. I didn't do anything outrageous by the standards of morals and values of the country I live in. We were intimate, but not fully. Her religion prevented her from it. But I did break a person's trust, as well as broke her in her innocence, and innocent view of the world. I basically ruined Christmas for her by telling her at too young an age that, "hey kid, Santa's not real and he's not bringing you shit this year. The world's a horrible place, and people are going to hurt you whether you are good or not. and there's nothing you can do to control it." That's basically what i did in my actions.
This so incredibly good person, the best I've ever known to that point and to date, I took part in breaking her view that no matter how good you are, people will hurt you. I am ashamed and will never live it down. And to boot, this plant that represented anything good from all that 3 years ago, is now dead. It suits.
But as we all must do, I have to get over it.
Here's to the future. Let's be better ey?
