In every country, there is a whole different set of dating rules; it changes based on culture, religion, population etc. From an outsider’s perspective, the rules here in the U.S. (no offense) just seem slightly wacky. It’s like you just chucked everything onto the wall and whatever stuck, you decided that should apply to your lives. There are lots of ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ hidden underneath in size two font, but the main gist, from what I have gathered over time, is “You tease till you get it, then it’s over forever.” At first, I nodded, happy to finally understand; to me it felt like I had been drowning in obliviousness but now I peeked my head out of the water and finally taken a gasp of knowledge. Though that breath of air did not last long as my head was pushed back into the water when the word ‘but’ first emerged and the rules got a hundred times more complicated. Don’t get me wrong, I love the American culture, it’s so different from my own Middle Eastern one especially the boys, but why did your relationship rules have to be as difficult as holding in your urge to call social services for Honey Boo Boo?

Let’s start with baby steps: the first American boy I ever kissed gave me the rude awakening that I needed. He wasn’t a college student; well he was, but he dropped out and was doing well in the business world. I mean, he bought a very swanky BMW for himself, thus the reason why I have dubbed him Beemer. He was just adorable, in a geeky sense. I have to hand it to him, he rocked the nerdy look well. He had been flirting with me for a while (at first, I was completely oblivious) and I flirted back. He was definitely boyfriend material and I couldn’t stop gushing over the thought that he was infatuated with me.

He invited my friends and me to his apartment for a party, and from the moment I entered, he didn’t leave my side. Before I knew it, I was fantasizing over where the nursery would be. I could barely utter a word when everyone had left the party and it was just him and me sitting on a couch with the gorgeous view of Boston in the background. It was such a romantic setting. How could I not kiss him?! Yet, apparently, that was my mistake, the downfall, the big no-no. I should have torn myself away and acted “prudish,” as one boy called it. This isn’t some Disney movie, I wasn’t going to bashfully bat my eyelashes and make him chase me. I wanted to snog him and snog him I did. Granted, the night became a bit awkward (I was way too nervous for my own good) when he tried to get me to touch his ‘no-no place‘ and I mumbled something about Carpal tunnel syndrome.

The next morning, he acted as if he had never met me before. My friends told me later on, with their heads shaking sadly at my naivety, that of course he is going to ignore me. I had given it up too quickly.

I didn’t understand. How long was I supposed to play this stupid game? This makes me pose the question: what is wrong with our generation? What happened to the doting gentlemen who got replaced with these groping, fast-paced YOLO obsessed teenagers.

I had to toughen up and understand that if I truly wanted a relationship, it would have to be with some creepy thirty-something-year-old man who had already had his fun. So that’s what I did (toughen up, not the thirty-year-old man thing). Although that tough skins cracks a fraction whenever Beemer pops round again and practically prances around me, trying to capture my attention once more. Stop coming round Beemer, your inability to decide is grossing me out. The same for you lads out there.

 – Sara Al Mehairi can be reached at [email protected]