Loving Morocco and Moroccan lovin'

Oh, how I love my dates!

On the first day in Morocco our only activity was to be at our hotel by 6pm to meet our tour guide and fellow tourees.   As per most meet and greets you go around the circle say your name and what you hope to get out of the tour.  I had only two goals... and I had already tried mint tea earlier in the day (check), so all I was really jonesing for was a good date!  Of course, I'm talking about the fruit.  But just like you might have thought, that's what the rest of the group was thinking.  After realizing that I was getting a lot of strange looks, I quickly clarified my statement... dates, the fruit, not a man.  My search for a good date became a joke for the rest of the trip.  What I wasn't expecting was to actually find a date (both the fruit and a man...).

Ok, so it wasn't so much of a date as it was a tryst.  And yep, I'm gonna tell you about it.  At first meeting I didn't think much of my Moroccan lover, but as the days passed I found myself drawn to him.  Early on it seemed like he would look for opportunities to engage with me, but what caught me more by surprise was when I realized that I was looking for opportunities to be around him.  A bit unsure if I wasn't just making all this up in my head, on about the 5th day in to the trip, on our way to the Sahara I was sitting by myself (being unusually quiet) and I caught him looking at me, looking back I slowly cracked a smile and he followed suit.  And I knew, there was something in the way he smiled in that moment that was different, I just had this gut feeling that he just might have a crush on me too.  Like all my crushes, I always imagine them confessing their love for me, we kiss and fall madly in love (weird I know, but it can be fun since falling in love - or lust - isn't a regular occurrence for me... and it always works way better in my head.  Please keep in mind that I also don't have any actual delusions that this will ever happen to me... until it kinda did).

After a long journey from the Sahara to Todra Gorge we enjoyed a Christmas eve dinner altogether, but soon after dinner most of the group left to catch up on some much needed sleep.  Six of us were left.  Two local peeps, my roomie, my new BFF, my Moroccan crush and of course me.  We were chatting, drinking, laughing, and before we knew it was Christmas.  I gave hugs to everyone but my dear sweet Moroccan crush.  It wasn't until we found ourselves alone for only a moment that he asked why he didn't get a hug.  I leaned in, put my arms around him and he held me tight and as we pulled away he kissed me on my cheek and then ... he kissed me... I was in shock.  Really!?  The guy I have a crush on, really does have a crush on me!?  You've got to be kidding!  The rest of the night we held hands and played footsie under the table as butterflies were frantically flying around my gut.  But the night eventually came to an end, my soon to be Moroccan lover and I snuck in a couple of kisses before going to our separate rooms to sleep.

The next day, my Moroccan lover asked if I could chat that night.  But in order for no one to suspect anything, we both waited until everyone went to bed.  He asked me why I liked him, and to be honest, I didn't really know him...  I just felt drawn to him.  There was something about the way he walked, his curly hair and the way his eyes would sparkle that I was just attracted to.  But I had nothing substantial... perhaps just some freak pheromone reaction!?  He told me that he was concerned that I was a 'player' (this made me laugh, if only he knew how I'm still trying to figure out the rules let alone play in any kind of game).  But I suppose, what he was wondering is if this is a common occurrence (me picking up men that is...).   I didn't think this was the appropriate time to tell him how I blog about how impossible it is to find a decent man that I can actually tolerate let alone want to touch, so I simply assured him that I'm very selective.  And so our Moroccan affair began.

It wasn't easy though.  Neither of us wanted the rest of the group to know about the extra time we spent together, I also had to concede to the fact that although I might be very selective, that my Moroccan lover most likely is not.  But in addition to this, what really bummed me out is during the day he would usually overcompensate by talking to everyone else on the trip but me, and then as dinner would approach he would begin to approach me.  Most days I felt frustrated, and most nights I felt like a glutton for punishment.  But when no one was looking I would almost always catch him looking at me, his stare was penetrating and unrelenting... it was intoxicating (or perhaps it was just the wine...!?).  

The last night of our trip was New Year's eve, after a bitter sweet evening everyone said goodbye in the lobby, and my Moroccan lover who had been asking all night, asked again if I would see him that night.  And I did.  It was our last night, and maybe the best night spent together.  I knew I would be leaving him the next day to go home, he was kind and gentle that night and he held on to me as if he never wanted to let go.  And for that night, our bodies tangled and twisted trying to fall asleep I was completely lost in the moment.  It was a strange feeling, because although we were completely different in every sense of the word, lying there together we just fit.

Saying goodbye was hard.  In Morocco public displays of affection aren't appreciated.  He seemed a bit scattered, and conscious of the crowds, and I just felt this immense sadness, I had only a few hours earlier said goodbye to some of the most wonderful people I had ever met and now I had to say goodbye for the last time to the last person, my Moroccan lover and in midst of a bustling street during rush hour in the middle of Casablanca.  We hugged and this time I held on tight, we kissed and then he said 'ok, I have to go, I wish I could stay'.... and just like that I was all alone, again.