I'm too tired to make this cohesive and verbose and mildy witty and all those things that you read my blog to see. But this is what happened. Hopefully the post isn't as racist as the title makes it sound. It probably is.
My co-teacher (read: teacher who shares the classroom with me, almost my assistant, but theoretically a a little more) has been without a car for the past week. That's about a 2 hour commute with BART/bus/biking transfers. The weather here in SF has been unpredictable, but generally hellish rain. Like God-is-angry-at-san-francisco-and-drowing-it-for-its-sins rain. So when I told my co about how I was damn cold and going over to the Berkeley tonight to pick up my space heater from Bobby, he asked for a ride "Sure thing!" I say cheerily and secretly cringe. We have been working together for about 2 months and have never had more than a 2 minute conversation (Berkeley is half an hour away).
So I grit my teeth and determine to talk my little head off the whole way home. This plan seems to be going okay, we're carrying on a decent amount of conversation with only small gaps in between when he says "I'd like to take you to dinner". He had offered before to buy me dinner to thank me for driving him home, but I declined considering I was going over to the East Bay with or without him ... oh and, we never have anything to talk about. "Oh god no" was my first thought. And my second thought was "You don't have any groceries at home, Mel." So I let him talk me into dinner and we eat at this cuban restaurant that is just okay and maintain a conversation this is also just okay. The whole time I'm starting to feel kind of weird about it. Like "if I didn't know any better this would be a date" and "did he just tap my knee to get my attention?" But I start to rationalize it away, specifically by reminding myself that he is Moroccan. "In other cultures/countries, people are more touchy feeling than Americans, Morroco is probably one of those countries," I tell myself.
"Do you want to get coffee or tea?" He asks.
Seriously, is this a date? Am I on a date? NO, it's just his Moroccan heritage, something about his upbringing or culture must make him feel obligated to thank me profusely for something that was like seriously NBD. Or maybe.... maybe he's just been feeling cooped up without his car, and is excited to be able to be out with someone, doing something. Sure that's it. One of those.
He invites me out with his friends tomorrow night "Look at me making friends with my co-workers," I rationalize. "I'm just like Topher!"
He invites me into his brilliantly Morrocan-themed appartment for fresh Moroccan tea, chocolate chip cookies, and general awkwardness. "Making friends, making friends." I tell myself.
I feel the need to point out that being from Morroco his native language is not English. French maybe, he speaks a lot of it when he's on the phone, but I'm not really sure. Although he's been in the country for 13 years, he speaks with a thick accent and I feel like a lot in our conversations was getting lost in translation. I speak very quickly, am verbose, and have a flashy vocabulary. I dunno if that was throwing him off, or if his accent was throwing me off, but our conversations felt very circular; a lot of stuff was repeated, corrected, and misremembered. I was never quite sure if I understood what he was saying or if he understood me, but I was noticing that our bodies were getting closer and closer as we leaned against his kitchen counter.
And then:
"You have a beautiful smile."
OH HOLY FUCK. "I have to use the restroom, excuse me." Staring down the bathroom mirror after sharing an intense eyeroll with my reflection, I was faced with the awful truth: it doesn't matter what culture you are from, if a straight man looks you in the eyes and says, "You have a beautiful smile" it doesn't mean "Let's stay platonic friends." All the compliments I didn't really listen to over the course of the night suddenly flooded back into my brain and lost any semblance of sincerity. The meaning of the evening's events clicked into place and I was as mortified as I was pissed.
I stayed for another cup of tea then politely point out "Oh my gosh, it's so late I really need to head home!" And rushed out the door. He walked me out and when he said good-bye he leaned in for a hug. We barely speak at work and suddenly we are close enough to hug?! Really.
I mean, I'll be straighforward, I don't think he's looking to be my boyfriend, and we've already established that I'm a woman of loose morals, but he is my CO-TEACHER. I'll see him everday for the rest of the year. Considering I'm not attracted physically or emotionally to him, it isn't worth the hassle. (Let's be real, though: if he had a beautiful smile and was brimming with modern ideas about effective teaching practice, then, yes, I'd be all about destroying our professional working relationship).
But since that isn't the case, I drove home feeling exasperated, and exhausted. I hate being hit on, and I hate being asked out. I think as a general rule women need to start being the ones in charge of all that stuff.
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