Heartbroken Hooker in Dubai

“Why don’t you come around and fuck me, for 1500Dhs?” The nineteen year old Syrian woman, my ex met in a club wasn’t joking when she asked him this over the phone.

He explained to her he wasn’t into bitches, respected her just not her job. She explained she makes more than 22,000Dhs each month and can charge this high because she’s new. A few days later, the “I miss you” calls started coming through.

She wants him to be her boyfriend; for free. She wants his attention. She still wants to keep her job; she’s happy with it.

I’m pretty sure my ex is probably the first to turn her down. According to him; she wasn’t bad looking at all. My bet is, she found herself attracted to that rejection, since it meant he was looking for more than a cheap fuck when he met her.

When he told me this, I actually felt sorry for her. It must be real lonely knowing your phone is only ringing when someone wants to buy a bit of your flesh and a fraction of your time; only to walk away without second thought. She claims to be happy with it; and says it’s better than the job in the clothing factory she thought she was taking when she moved here a few months back.

Turns out, he’s looked in a number of places since I left him last month; to fill that emptiness inside him. Aside from the Syrian he came across:

The Moroccan; she got in his car for the first time and spent more than 45 minutes talking on the phone to some Saudi guy; completely ignoring the fact that she was sitting with another man.

The divorced Iranian; though a bit over-weight and always complaining about it being hot, she wasn’t so bad; just not his type, and openly not willing to let go of the males in her social life.

And then there’s the one going through an identity crisis; she told him she was Saudi first, then that she was Iranian, and more recently that she was Yemeni. She only calls at night; has asked him for phone cards and even to borrow his car. And from what I know they haven’t known each other a few weeks. She’s got no shame and he doubts she’s any less than a bitch.

That’s four women he told me about over this weekend. He showed at my door the night before last, actually; visibly broken hearted. Left me in a bit of psychological mess, through his expressions of undying love and inability to do just about anything; without me. I’m not sure where he is, or where I am, or if there’s a ‘we’ again. But I’ve asked him not to stop talking to his girls for now; including the prostitute. I’ve asked him to leave things as they are, and not jump back into things with me. I’ve made it clear that I’ve made many changes in my life and that I’m not ready to give them up again, just yet.

So the Yemini still calls, and the hooker is still dedicating her longing through messages, and I sit and listen to his tales about them, while he patiently waits for me to make up my mind.

I can’t help but wonder if the Syrian hooker isn’t the girl I had that strange staring relationship with in Citicenter; as I mentioned in an earlier Blog.