Confessions of A Desk Girl

Secret #2
I owe the photocopy shop 13LE since 1996 and I still haven't bothered to pay.

Went to Cairo on Thursday, could not have been happier to get away from this little town and the asses known as my friends who don't do anything and think I'm far too energetic just because I like to go out on weekends.

The moment I stepped off the train and saw the crowds of loud, rough and tough street-callers, the layers of dust, the endless traffic jam of molesting cab drivers, I got all nostalgic and teary eyed. Damn, I miss that city.

Went over to K's house, his mom was sick with food poisoning, so we couldn't go to the house party. Kinda bummed; was really looking forward to seeing old faces, and haven't danced in aaaaages.

So we watched "Eve" on Paramount (sucked), Scrubs ("I'm Your Biatch!") and made pasta with smoked salmon (which means K. made it and I sat watching TV and asking "Sure you don't need any help?" Role reversal rocks!)

Then some of his friends came over, one of them rolled a joint and talked to me about spirituality.
"I am a deeply religious person," he says, and inhales deeply.

After ten minutes of Judgment Day talk, I freak out and change the subject to shoes. Whenever I panic, shoes seem to save the day.

I guess I only humored his talk, because he reminded me so much of A.
I miss A.
We call him Shaggy because of his hair and his Mr-Boombastic-attitude with the ladies. As in, he thinks he's got it, but he really hasn't .

A. has a tendency to fall for psychotics and I have a tendency to fall for weirdo's, so together we make a perfect match.
He doesn't know it yet, but I figure that some day within the next millennium, he will wake up and realize the whole brains-and-beauty-and-humor combo he wants is sitting right next to him.

I remember this one night we were in Agami, I think we went to Tijuana, but the music sucked, so we grabbed some mana'eech (my favorite is the sausage one) and went onto the beach.

We sat on the steps of a villa, I dug my feet into the sand, he twisted his fingers, I bit into the bread and thanked God it was too dark for him to see the sauce slipped down my chin. He talked about his latest psycho, I nodded in all the right places, a man came over and harassed us because he thought we were making out, and I pointed out (with a full mouth) that it was quite impossible, given the less attractive state of my sauce-stained lips.

We smaned about the idea of us making out (though me rather half-heartedly), I went on tracing circles in the sand, and he went on saying "I don't get it! Why me?"

I did not, of course, say: "Because you always go for a pair of breasts before checking for a head first!", but it was on my mind.

Thing is, A. is not the love of my life; he is my best friend, although he doesn't know it yet, and I know I am his, although he doesn't know it yet.

Cairo really reminds me of him.

Next morning, went walking around Zamalek, even though it felt like 37 C, bought a pair of tiny tiny shorts (which I intend to wear in Basata this Thursday!Yay!), bought a pair of shiny shiny shoes (which in fact are rather hazardous if you wear them on the street-they tend to reflect car lights and cause traffic jams), had coffee with N. in Tobasco Café, and it all felt like one year ago as if nothing has changed, and I wish nothing had.
Got onto the train home, trying to find a reason why I was going back.

I couldn't think of any.