Dear Moroccan Man,
It has now been two months, but I fear my feelings have not changed. Yes, when you immitated a dying cow that one time, it did make me laugh, and thank you for telling me daily how beautiful I am in English, French, Spanish, and even German occasionally. That is very kind of you to say.
The truth of the matter is that I fear your efforts are fruitless. It is creepy when you follow me, and when you stare at me for so long. I try my hardest not to get annoyed when you sit down next to me in cafes and refuse to let me sip my coffee and do my French homework, or when I walk past you in the street and you call me "baby" or "sweetie." Kissing noises are never an attractive sound, and thus, they will not be a good way to capture my attention, and they certainly are not the best way to start a conversation with me (neither is hissing). Frankly, I like my relationships to start in a little less stalker-esque fashion.
So, just so you know, I'm not lost when you see me, and I don't need directions. I did not come to Morocco looking for a husband, and telling you I'm barren is more fun than admitting that I'm just not that into you. And finally, I'm not actually married, but I do appreciate how quickly it makes you walk/run away--like I'm stricken with the plague, and I appreciate how you don't even need the proof of a ring.
Sincerely,
That American Girl You Harrass
P.S. Keep your hands to yourself, if you value them.
Creepy. Remember when we discussed sensoring what we tell our parents so that they don't try to fit us with monkey backpacks? Ya. I hope my parents aren't reading this. :)
ReplyDeleteYou tell em sister! I would offer to go over there and kick some ass--but we all know what a joke that would end up being.
ReplyDeleteIs the monkey backpack a reference to my child?