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December 2000 Issue

Dazzled, Dumped, and Dazed

By Loolwa Khazzoom

Only after my friend's wedding ceremony and dinner festivities did I catch sight of him, sparkling on stage with magic and mischief.

I had encountered a mirror spirit 12 years earlier on a dance floor in Israel, in the form of a fugitive from the ultra-orthodox town of B'nai B'rak--a young man who had dazzled and seduced me with his extraordinarily sensuous, playful being. My experience with him had been one of the most intoxicating, erotic encounters of my life. Alas, it had ended with him vanished and me crushed.

I should have known Kurt would also be trouble.

Kurt was a singer and percussionist for the wedding band--a band with three members who made up the core of another band I had sung with numerous times. Upon invitation, I took over the singing for two numbers, belting out Iraqi Jew-tunes in honor of my friends.

I then joined the crowd and danced around the room in a circle, passing Kurt as he banged on bongos just a few feet away. I was embarassed to look at him, knowing how much I wanted to.

When I did look up, he was looking at me. I broke into an uncontrollable grin. He did the same. The room went hot, as I continued circle-dancing in ecstasy.

As the evening progressed, I wanted to find an opportunity to tell Kurt I liked his singing. At the same time, the intensity of interest I felt for him left me feeling exposed and vulnerable, so I felt shy about approaching him. I had all but abandoned the idea, when poof! he was right in front of me, out of nowhere. "I loved your singing!" he beamed.

Surprised and delighted by his overture, I returned the compliment and eagerly kept our conversation going. He seemed as interested in talking as I, so I invited him to sit with me at one of the abandoned tables in the dining section. We chatted through the end of the song being played, well into the intro of the next one, which Kurt was supposed to be singing.

As Kurt jumped up to sprint back to the stage, he turned around to face me. "We should definitely exchange contact info!" he suggested, eyes twinkling. "Yes," I agreed. "Definitely!"

As the evening wore down, all the fair young maidens gathered to catch the bride's bouquet. I stayed on the side, grumbling to myself about stupid pre-feminist archaic rituals that view a woman's worth by whether she has tied the knot with a man. Then a little voice inside said, "Loolwa, stop being so political. Just go have some fun," and I ran and joined the group. The bride tossed the bouquet backwards, and it sailed right into my arms.

Eventually, the band played the last song, and we all gathered our belongings to go home. Kurt sauntered over to me, eyes fixed on mine, glistening. "You sure you still want to connect with me? I'm a dangerous woman," I warned teasingly, pointing at the bouquet. He laughed. We exchanged numbers. "I'll definitely call you," he said, twinkling at me again as I handed him my number. I left the party walking on air.

Three days passed without hearing from Kurt. I felt perplexed, given how smitten he seemed with me during the wedding. I decided to take the initiative and call him first. He still did not call. "OK," I thought to myself, "I can just say he's not putting out the energy for whatever reason, and I can let him go and move on; or I can trust my gut on this connection and be bold in my pursuit."

I considered the way men often chase women without a second thought. And how men often react negatively to women who do the same. "Fuck it," I thought. "I gotta be real."

I wanted to be clever about it, so I decided to send Kurt an email:

Subject: Multiple Choice

1. He's playing hard-to-get
2. He's out of town
3. He's married with four children and living in Nebraska
4. He was short-circuited in the recording studio and is out cold on the floor
5. He was scared off by the boquet

Kurt replied in ten minutes, "4. Ha, ha, ha! Reality: Let's meet and talk. Very casual coffee style." "OK," I said in my next email, "I'll wear cutoffs and thongs (not that kind) for the occasion."

Kurt's goofy quotient championed mine--a rare and refreshing quality. Far beyond simply tolerating my wildness, he exploded in laughter at my theatrics and added his own zany spirit to the mix. Hanging out with him felt like dancing, the same kind of energy I felt when hanging out with my best friends.

Given the string of heartbreaks I had experienced from men who felt intimidated and threatened by me, I was not only elated but surprised by Kurt's ability to match my energy. "Most men see me as a threat," I told him. "I see you as a blessing," he countered.

During our dates, I made the conscious effort to be my authentic self with Kurt. At each juncture where I knew the female script and felt the compulsion to follow it, I took the risk of being real.

My living out of bounds seemed to make him even more attracted to me. "You're not intimidated by me?" I asked on our second date, after sharing information that scared the shit out of most men. "No," he said, looking at me with a sexy smile. "I'm excited by you."

Kurt and I went salsa dancing at a local club. When Kurt drove me home, I invited him in. Touring my house, he saw a poster of a woman sitting bent over on a chair, pins up and down the sides of her body. "We have been ordered not to move," the poster reads. "I'm glad you didn't listen to those orders," Kurt said warmly.

Not only did my intuition sense that we were headed for an ongoing connection, but a number of comments he had made confirmed my gut feeling. "You're going to love my father when you meet him," Kurt had said just that evening.

I did not feel the need or desire for my standard waiting period before getting involved with this man.

Kurt left in the morning, sitting by my side before leaving, gently caressing my face and looking at me lovingly. That evening, I was dying to talk with him. The next day, I really wanted to see him. But it was his turn to initiate. I had made the first call, I had done the email follow-up chase, and I had called the evening of our last date to confirm. Friday passed, and Saturday, and Sunday.

"Given our level of intimacy," I wrote that night in an email, "and given the amount of initiating I've done, it sucks that you haven't contacted me by now."

Three more days ticked by. Not a word. Finally I called. "What's been going on with me," Kurt shared, "is that you're a controlling person. Right?" "I'm listening," I replied. "Well, I'm also a controlling person," he continued. "I actually think we're very similar, and I see problems down the road."

I made it clear to Kurt that whether or not I agreed with his assessment of me, I respected whatever choice he needed to make, and that I would be fine with whatever he decided. "I don't know what I want," Kurt said. "I think we should meet and talk some more."

But then he pulled a no-show, which left me awake at 2:00 AM, unable to sleep, composing a letter to him. By 3:00 AM, frustrated by not knowing what to say to someone who acts like a total fuckhead, I decided that whatever I had to say, I had to say it in (tele)person. I was irritated that he seemed to feel entitled to hit & run, with no fallout on his end or accountability on his part.

"Fuck his ass!" I fumed. "If I can't sleep at 3:00 AM, then neither can he!" I dialed his digits, and he picked up on the last ring. "You really fucking hurt me," I said evenly. "And I didn't deserve it. I feel sick now that I ever touched you." I hung up the phone. I felt liberated and cleansed.

But I wanted more fun. I called his office with a cheerful Monday morning greeting, just in case he thought he could leave me behind in a weekend haze. "Good morning, ASS-hole!" I chirped into his voicemail, "I just wanted to spread the love I'm feeling!" Click. I disconnected, giggling happily. Then I went to sleep.

I still don't get it. How can it be that I experienced such a connection with someone and then whamo! he's gone--no explanation, no apology? Does the ecstasy become poisoned because of the ending? And what happens to my trust?

I am grateful for the lessons I learned in this situation: I have become less afraid of being vulnerable, and more courageous about putting my feelings out there. I have learned that while I have no control over Kurt's behavior or anyone else's, I do have control over my own. And I have decided this experience belongs in the "don't let life get you to stop living it" category.

So many of us have been crushed countless times, and I think we often internalize these experiences and run around depressed, afraid, and ashamed. Therefore, I have re-committed myself to being open, loving, and responsible. I also have reflected on the incredible humans who have stuck with me over the years, and now appreciate more than ever their durable, wild souls.

Loolwa Khazzoom ( www.loolwa.com) is a published author whose essays have been featured in anthologies and countless periodicals. She is a self-defense instructor, a feminist activist, a Jewish multicultural educator, and a musician.

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