The Lebanese Mating Dance

A pair of blood-red lips walk into a shisha café, dragging behind them a pair of huge fake boobs that made that typical squealing noise of inflatable balloons rubbing against each other. Tattooed eye brows and fake eye lashes gave her the look of a plastic mannequin. The only remaining genuine part is her brain. It was simply so hopeless, nothing could be done to it… You could actually hear it rattle in a skull covered with  light brown colored hair most of it tucked under an extension. Oh yes, she was for real…

At the most visible table in the Shisha café, alone sits a hairball. Nothing fake here, except everything. 60s’ Grease-style disproportionate hairdo on the front, covers all the shameful parts, especially the brain cavity. Hair gel drips from the tip of a short and shy pigtail. A two days beard that reminds of the early neanderthals with the way it reaches right below the eyes. A perfectly straight shaving-line stretches from the top of the cheekbone all the way down to either side of the upper lip. Mustaches that bring back Russian czars memories adorn the lips and bask in the shade of a nose the size of the Khufu pyramid. The eyes are covered with over-sized mirror-coated fake D & G shades reaching halfway to the forehead.

She’s wearing a white Lycra T-shirt covered with golden and silver words in French: “Me, You, Sexy, Available, Now, Yes…” which revealed a pierced belly button. Tight washed-out low-cut grey jeans cover her lower body, so tight, her bladder, kidneys and most of her intestines are now squeezed between her lungs and spine. The remaining cellulite casually bulges and dangles on either side of the jeans concealing a thick golden metallic belt covered with crystals, more words (English this time) and a Huge “P” for buckle. I tried to figure out what the “P” stood for but had to stop… The location was too suggestive to indulge in guessing… Her feet were squeezed in silver shoes with chrome high-heel stilettos. So high were they that it was probably windy and rainy up there… which explains the brain-rattling. She was carrying a fake Louis Vuitton bag on her shoulder. I don’t know what was in it but, from the way it was carving a groove in her shoulder, you could guess her entire vanity chest was dumped in there.

He was in a fake silk shirt. I am still trying to remember its color palette. It was just too much for someone like me who lacks serious color sophistication. As usual, the first three buttons were loose uncovering a half-shaved chest, a thick gold chain with a cross at the end, and a smaller thinner gold chain circling the lower neck. He’s wearing low-cut dark blue jeans, also very tight, with tears, holes and stitches covering every inch except the genitals, which by the way protruded so vulgarly. His feet were covered with a pair of white leather kickers and no socks. He was wearing a huge gold ring on his right pinky, so heavy it was constantly sliding to the side.

She walks slowly but not gracefully. You could hear the stilettos “clicks” on the tiled floor with every step she took. She stops, locates an empty table right across from his, heads towards it and sits on the seat facing the café entrance. She painfully crosses her legs, sending her kidneys to join the rest of her lower abdomen organs right up there. Now you can understand why all that make up; to conceal the red swollen face!

He’s smoking a Tutti-Frutti flavored shisha in an over-sized tastelessly designed narguileh. With every puff, he lets the heavy smoke out from the left side of his mouth in a thick and narrow stream. He pauses, and exhales the rest from his nostrils in a turbulent cloud lacking the usual aerodynamics due to the thick nose hair proudly protruding.

He sees her…

At first, he inconspicuously slides his eyeballs sideways trying to follow her without moving his head. Hidden under his dark shades, no one could tell he was sizing her up. His eyeballs reach the far side of the eyes and can’t slide anymore… He holds the position without noticing that slowly, his head was starting to move in the same direction. Few seconds later, he was literally staring at her, triggering the typical Lebanese macho set of reflexes:

One, his nostrils expand wide.
Two, his lower lip pushes forward in a prognathic spasm
Three, his left hand unconsciously drops and holds his genitals
Four, one of his eyebrows pushes upward

All done in a very subtle way of course…

Still, she notices… Which triggers her set of defensive reflexes:

One, she shuffles her hair with her hands carefully avoiding to drop the extension
Two, she swings her whole body 45 degrees in the opposite direction
Three, she looks at her watch every ten seconds
Four, she checks her cellphone faking to read a text message

The mating dance has begun. Unfortunately, it will never move beyond a mere dance, because in our “conservative” society, it is considered taboo…

Lebanese…. Aaaaah…. Lebanese… 🙂

© 2011 Ibrahim Lahoud

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The Lebanese Mating Dance by Ibrahim N. Lahoud is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at ilahoud.wordpress.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at htt://ilahoud.wordpress.com/.


9 Responses to “The Lebanese Mating Dance”

  1. June 1, 2011 at 15:12

    This is brilliant, couldn’t stop giggling at the office! What an accurate description of the genuinely fake scenes one encounters on a daily basis. Like a mating season!

  2. June 1, 2011 at 19:17

    Oh my Goodness! This is hilarious!
    I have to thank Reem (http://reemsaleh.com) for sharing 🙂

    Such a clever and accurate description, I could actually see the whole thing unravel in front of my eyes. Actually, I believe I *have* watched that movie a few times before 😉 I’m just so sad for these two, it doesn’t have a Hollywood ending 😉

    • June 2, 2011 at 09:26

      Rouba, thank you for your sweet comment. Trust me, I laughed and giggled writing it as much as you reading it! 🙂

      At least Lebanese stereotypes do help at something, making us laugh! 🙂 Thanks again for checking in.

  3. 5 Jessy
    June 8, 2011 at 11:36

    I love all your posts! You should write a book 🙂

  4. 7 iRoody
    July 26, 2011 at 21:35

    There is a price for everything but not for this post! PRICELESS hahaha

  5. August 15, 2011 at 23:29

    I think they do move much further than you think, as long as they believe no one knows!

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Creative Commons License
Reason To Believe by Ibrahim N. Lahoud is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at ilahoud.wordpress.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at htt://ilahoud.wordpress.com.

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