Teresa was a cowgirl from Texas. She is the only woman that I’ve met that knew how to milk a cow! Seriously! She showed me how to use the thumb and the forefinger to do so. She was raised on a Texas farm with lots of animals and then decided to move to the coast and see the world. I met her at a country-western club when dancing the two-step became trendy. It was John Travolta’s movie “Urban Cowboy” that made wearing cowboy boots and jeans hip. I had heard that the place was crawling with women looking for fun! So I put my jeans and boots on and went there.
My Iranian buddies and I shied away from the hick and the red-neck places after the hostage crisis and the Khomeini nonsense. We figured who needs it. We didn’t want to explain ourselves or get into a fight with a bunch of ignorant people. It just wasn’t worth it.
Teresa and I exchanged a few glances in the noisy club and then I went over to say hi. She was a beautiful blonde with a medium build and green eyes. I didn’t know how to do the two-step so I didn’t ask her to dance. But she wanted to dance and told me that she would show me. I got on the dance floor and did almost everything wrong! But she just laughed and didn’t mind!
“Where are you from?” She asked.
“I’m from ee-run!”
“Where? New York?”
“Well, to the east of New York! Ee-run, you know, where they had the hostages!”
“What hostages?” She seemed completely unaware of the politics of the 80’s. And I didn’t want to propagate the ignorance of the general public by telling her that I was from I-ran.
We quickly became an item and started dating. Her complete lack of knowledge about the geography and the politics was such a breath of fresh air! What she lacked in the classroom, she more than made up in the bedroom! Making love to her was like riding a wild horse! The excitement was a mix of adventure and the fear of getting hurt! She would constantly want to roll and ride the saddle like a cowgirl! At times, it felt like a wrestling match in bed with a worthy opponent!
She had a temper though! And she didn’t like my Iranian friends, especially the girls! She was jealous of them! She knew that she could stand her own, being from Texas, against other American women, but she couldn’t figure out the Iranian women, with their fancy clothes and the exotic looks!
I took her to Cabo for a weekend. I was looking at the blue water and daydreaming when she went to the bar to get a couple of Margaritas. She came back with the drinks and a Greek couple. “I met this couple at the bar. They are Greek. You guys speak Greek, right?” To her anyone from the other side of the world spoke the same language! The couple said something in Greek. The only Greek that I knew was alpha, beta, epsilon from the math courses. But I decided to play along! So I replied in Farsi. They said a few more things in Greek and I replied in Farsi! Then, they left. She asked me what they said. “They were from a remote part of Greece. They had a strange accent!”
Once we were at her apartment and the bell rang and rang. She was in the bed and didn’t want to get up, but the bell kept ringing. She put her robe on and went to see who was at the door. I heard a big noise! I put my pants on and went to the front door. It was the mailman. He was on the ground with his bag of letters and things scattered all around him! I helped the guy up and gave him his glasses. Apparently, he had rung her place by mistake, trying to deliver a package. She got mad, screamed at him and pushed him to the ground!
After about three months or so, I knew that the relationship had run its natural course and it was the right time to end it, but I didn’t know how to do it. I just had to wait for the right moment. She wouldn’t have accepted my explanations. She would have asked, “Is there another woman? One of your Iranian friends?” And then she would have thrown the pots and pans at me! Believe it or not, I was afraid of her! So I just waited until she told me that she was moving back to Texas and asked me if I wanted to go with her. I told her that I was going back to Iran to see my parents and Iran was not a safe place for an American. She understood that.
I helped her put all her stuff in her truck and promised her that if I ever came back to the US I would call her or write to her at her parents’ farm. She drove away. I changed my telephone number a week later.
Looking for Love by Johnny Lee
