Gotta Keep On Movin'
I can't turn around. I can't look behind me. If I turn around I'll burst into tears. If I turn around I'll scream. He is still there, of course. He’ll be there until the plane disappears into the horizon. He will stay in Abu Dhabi, and I’ll be gone. I have to keep moving, I have to get on that plane. I have to cry until I can't see for the tears. Our song playing on my mp3 player. I know that from now until our next meeting my life will be a constant wait. Day after day, week after week. When I will see him again, I don't know.
He came into my life with a “Someone’s interested in you” letter. You register on a dating site, just for the fun of it, and those letters start coming in by the dozen. I opened the letter with a skeptical sneer: “Hmm Oman,”- I said. “Where the hell is that?” In his picture, the ‘Omani’ looked like an arrogant troublemaker- flashy tattoos, a big smile full of bright white teeth on his tan face. I decided to respond. A year and a half later, when we were an item drinking wine on the balcony of his Abu Dhabi apartment, he would tell me how hard he laughed when he got this message from me: “If you don't understand something don't hesitate to ask since English is a second language for both of us.” At the time I thought for sure the arrogant Omani was an Arab. He turned out to be Australian , a very tan Aussie roasted by the scorching sun of the Omani desert, whom I encouraged to tell me whenever my English got too complicated for him.
Before I knew it, we were in constant communication. Text messages- up to a hundred per day, - email, Facebook, phone calls and Skype. We would spend up to seven and a half hours a day in front of our computer screens. We would stay up because neither of us wanted to say goodbye and then we would literally fall asleep at work the next day. A typical text from me: “I’m sleepy, I can’t wait to get off work.” “I love you,” would be his reply. We knew we had to meet in person. I was afraid. He came to Moscow three months after we met on the Internet. He came to see me. I was waiting for him at the Domodedovo airport. I got there an hour early and while I was pacing the concourse I kept thinking to myself: “What do you need this for? Don’t you have enough to worry about?” “Etihad flight from Abu Dhabi has just landed…” I hid so he wouldn’t see me first. A crowd of tourists, Arabs in white. I saw him right away. As soon as he walked out he looked my way. A moment passes, and there he is looking straight at me. Walking towards me and smiling. It seemed as if the time had stopped. The crowds of people were gone along with the airport noise. Nothing and no one existed but him and me. We approached each other like a couple of bashful teenagers- me at 30 and he at 36,- managed an awkward embrace and started walking towards the exit. From that point on it was no longer he and I; it was ‘us’.
It’s been fourteen months since that day. Despite our circumstances and the thousands of kilometers that divide us, we have managed to meet five times. We have gone without, our patience has been tested.
Back in Abi Dhabi we couldn’t let go of each other for the longest time. He kept kissing my hair. He kept saying: “Promise you’ll take care of yourself.” I nodded. He kept kissing. Love knows no borders. It is found in every country on every continent. Even in the United Arab Emirates, where public display of affection is prohibited, our needs were met with understanding. An Arab customs officer saw us kissing each other goodbye. He didn’t say a word. He just handed me my passport and looked away shyly.
Etihad has surprised me twice already by bringing over my beloved. So I can tell you exactly why I need that free ride to Abu Dhabi- because someone very dear to me lives there. Despite the five thousand kilometers dividing us, he is the closest person to me. These three days that you can give us are sure to make us happy.
He came into my life with a “Someone’s interested in you” letter. You register on a dating site, just for the fun of it, and those letters start coming in by the dozen. I opened the letter with a skeptical sneer: “Hmm Oman,”- I said. “Where the hell is that?” In his picture, the ‘Omani’ looked like an arrogant troublemaker- flashy tattoos, a big smile full of bright white teeth on his tan face. I decided to respond. A year and a half later, when we were an item drinking wine on the balcony of his Abu Dhabi apartment, he would tell me how hard he laughed when he got this message from me: “If you don't understand something don't hesitate to ask since English is a second language for both of us.” At the time I thought for sure the arrogant Omani was an Arab. He turned out to be Australian , a very tan Aussie roasted by the scorching sun of the Omani desert, whom I encouraged to tell me whenever my English got too complicated for him.
Before I knew it, we were in constant communication. Text messages- up to a hundred per day, - email, Facebook, phone calls and Skype. We would spend up to seven and a half hours a day in front of our computer screens. We would stay up because neither of us wanted to say goodbye and then we would literally fall asleep at work the next day. A typical text from me: “I’m sleepy, I can’t wait to get off work.” “I love you,” would be his reply. We knew we had to meet in person. I was afraid. He came to Moscow three months after we met on the Internet. He came to see me. I was waiting for him at the Domodedovo airport. I got there an hour early and while I was pacing the concourse I kept thinking to myself: “What do you need this for? Don’t you have enough to worry about?” “Etihad flight from Abu Dhabi has just landed…” I hid so he wouldn’t see me first. A crowd of tourists, Arabs in white. I saw him right away. As soon as he walked out he looked my way. A moment passes, and there he is looking straight at me. Walking towards me and smiling. It seemed as if the time had stopped. The crowds of people were gone along with the airport noise. Nothing and no one existed but him and me. We approached each other like a couple of bashful teenagers- me at 30 and he at 36,- managed an awkward embrace and started walking towards the exit. From that point on it was no longer he and I; it was ‘us’.
It’s been fourteen months since that day. Despite our circumstances and the thousands of kilometers that divide us, we have managed to meet five times. We have gone without, our patience has been tested.
Back in Abi Dhabi we couldn’t let go of each other for the longest time. He kept kissing my hair. He kept saying: “Promise you’ll take care of yourself.” I nodded. He kept kissing. Love knows no borders. It is found in every country on every continent. Even in the United Arab Emirates, where public display of affection is prohibited, our needs were met with understanding. An Arab customs officer saw us kissing each other goodbye. He didn’t say a word. He just handed me my passport and looked away shyly.
Etihad has surprised me twice already by bringing over my beloved. So I can tell you exactly why I need that free ride to Abu Dhabi- because someone very dear to me lives there. Despite the five thousand kilometers dividing us, he is the closest person to me. These three days that you can give us are sure to make us happy.