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My detonating agent turned out to be a Persian-born European-raised boy named Ramin


Sahar Dastmalchi
July 27, 2005

You know the angry woman syndrome all men fear... all the time. The one we women claim men have imagined for years... I found out it exists... it doesn't only exist in other women. You know whom I am talking about... The surprise is that it also exists in…well, in ME.

I found out that my sparkling personality was potentially explosive. Now the detonation of this naturally produced female bomb, is a separate story altogether. The only people that have the detonation code biologically programmed in them are men. Not all men, but those we like... The more we like the detonating agent, the bigger the explosion.

My detonating agent turned out to be a Persian-born European-raised boy named Ramin.

Ramin was a sweet, naïve, and good-looking boy. A few years younger than my self, nothing shocking. A bit out there perhaps but I am a hippy at heart so no big deal... yet. Ramin was a very easygoing mellow kind of dude. We had been dating a couple of weeks when I noticed he never remembered anything. I just assumed we had different interests.

Now as I'm standing in front of Amsterdam central station waiting for my darling I am telling myself that as a confident, mature, attractive, young woman, I had no reason to be insecure. No matter if he is 15 minutes late... and has a history of being forgetful, and has called me twice during the week to ask me if we are hooking up on Saturday or on Sunday? And has already blown me off twice... Nope I am just great... by the way I like these shoes ... yes how can he resist me? How can any one resist me in these shoes?

I finally told my self: "Come on Sahari chin up! You look great! You are an adult ... right? ... Have the talk! Tell him he needs to pay attention to you... it's not like I am asking him to give me a kidney... or keys to his apartment... just ask him to acknowledge you are alive and that he enjoys being with you! Oh this is not good!"

While standing there being my usual gorgeous little self-conscious self, giving myself a pep talk, the phone rings. I see his name flashing on my cell.

"Hi honey... where are you?" At the same time I'm telling myself: you have no reason to be insecure... he likes you... just tell him what you want... straight and uncut.

"Sahar, did you know they are remodeling the station?"

"Yes, dear. My office is handling the engineering part of it... remember all that overtime I've been putting in? I told you about that ... " I responded. I am surprised he remembers his own name ... ok Sahar stay cool.

"Well they have changed the location of the meeting-point," I hear him say.

"Yes, I am standing at the new meeting point I already told you last week that it's moved to where the taxis stop".

"Uhhh, so where are you?"

"I am by the taxis..." now somewhat annoyed, again telling myself to calm down. Walking towards where he is supposed to appear any minute... oh there he is, he looks good too... he is wearing the linen pants I like. He is looking right at you…is he?

At this exact moment my darling boyfriend walks right past me... and I can feel the blood flowing...

"Ramin?" I called out incredulously... come on give him one more chance... "Ramin!" I call out to him again...

"Hey, I almost walked right by you... " he says smiling turning around stepping towards me.

"Almost...?" and as I pronounce the word he kisses me.

"Wow, good kiss... you are off the hook ... for now!" I say with a smile.

So we start walking, he comments on my shoes.

"Yeah, I am trying to conquer my fear of heights." I respond jokingly he smiles grabs my hand ... and we start walking... see! He even noticed my shoes. And now there is silence... awkward silence...

"You know I am going to France next weekend," I volunteer.

"Oh wow, do you speak French?"

"Yes, I do... remember our first date I helped out that French couple, we talked to them for at least half an hour."

"Yeah, now that you mention it..." good he remembers. "So what do you wanna do?" He asks

"I don't know, I want to be with you… doesn't matter what we do," I say already not the happiest camper.

"Do you play pool?" he asks...

"I do, I am not any good. Remember we played the other day... remember?" ok that's it, buster. Being the diplomatic genius that I credit myself to be, I took the gamble and decided to have the talk right here, right now.

"Ramin," I said calmly yet firmly, "you really need to start paying attention to me ..." There I said it straight, to the point, no way he can misunderstand that, right?

"What makes you think I don't?" He asks putting his arm around me

"I don't know... you seem to be preoccupied or bored even," and I see his puzzled expression, "you just walked right passed me there, and you don't listen to me." He just has to say he'll try...

"Well, you know I can't really keep up when you are talking about work or history..." Oooops.

"When have I ever talked to you about history? And do you even know what I do?"

He is now annoyed, "Look, Sahar! You know that accident I had?" He is talking about a huge accident five years ago that put him in a coma for a few weeks.

"Yes, I remember... it was horrible... But you told me you are completely fine!" Start count down... "Don't use that as your excuse? Don't sell me that crap."

"Hey, you're a smart girl... You go to university and everything... do you really think I'm so stupid to sell you BS?"

"OK," I say just to put an end to this but I can't put it out of my overworked, tired, stressed out mind... did I mention that it was that time of month?

We continue a few minutes in silence then he asks why I am not talking and staring at the ground.

Ok this is the last thing I am going to say: "I just don't feel like I matter to you."

"Oh come on you know that's not true!"

"That's just the way I feel..."

"Look Sahar," he starts as hormones rage in me, "I don't want to change, I won't change for my mother, I won't change for my father, and I won't change for you!" 10, 9, ... forget the count down... KABOOOOOOMMM!

CNN: ... there have been verified reports of an explosion in downtown Amsterdam, involving a Persian girl and her soon to be ex-boyfriend...

"Well then why do I have to adjust to you, I don't want you to change, and I want you to acknowledge that I..." what's that word? ... "exist. I work a fulltime job, am trying to fix up my new apartment and am going back to school. Yet I find the time for you and you sit at home and I have to ask you to call me? You have stood me up twice, and why should I be the one who has to change?"

"It's such a girly thing, you're exaggerating. Daari khodeto loos mikoni... if I hadn't missed you just now you wouldn't be so mad." He was absolutely right but I was beyond reason, and he felt the need in repeating that he wasn't going to change: "I won't even change for my parents..."

"Listen, I don't want you to change ... I want you to want me. Look at me!" By now the hormones had taken over. And I was yelling: "I am not that shallow to go off just because you didn't see me!" Yeah kid, keep telling yourself that "and by the way I am not your parents ... they don't have the choice to dump you and walk away... I do!"

All the while I was making this speech I was looking around me and now my eyes caught his eyes, his head slightly bent down, his eyes looking up at me with astonishment, disappointment and hurt. What was I saying? At my silence he just shrugged his shoulders...

"What am I doing here then?" I yelled at him. Again no response. "I should go home," I said trying to maintain some authority and dignity. Why am I wearing these shoes? I can't make my getaway in these!

"Ok, let's walk back then," he says sweetly.

Oh, Sahar you idiot... You can't just walk out quietly (messe aadame dorost hesabi), now you have hurt his feelings as well.

All I can do now is to concentrate on my feet and Ramin is walking in front of me. I look up, he is walking next to me I should say something…and as I looked up again to say I had no business talking to him like that, he has crossed the street and running towards a tram.

He didn't even say goodbye...

When I told my friend Mike about this, I told him I didn't understand why I went off like that. "It's not like me at all."

He smiled looked straight at me and with infinite wisdom and said, "No its not..." paused and then said: "I think you must have really liked the boy!"

"What? Noooo, that can't be it... Can it?"

What does Mike know anyhow? He has only known me for about ten years or so...

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