Sitting across the table from me, my immaculately dressed friend subtly scanned the café in search for someone who might look ‘interesting’. She did it with such finesse that you would barely notice it. It looked like a technique that had been perfected over quite a few years. It had been a while since we’d shared an afternoon sipping coffee and spilling gossip and it was clear to me that she had plenty to share that day.
“Why are there no REAL men out there?”, she asked in frustration.
I knew it was a rhetorical question and that she wasn’t really waiting for me to intervene with an answer.
“You know what I mean?” she continued, “Now there are only ‘guys’ and ‘dudes’ but no ‘men’. Just these slackers that think getting wasted and waking up in another city is something to brag about!”
In her moment of venting I knew that she would not readily welcome any kind of corrective advice. I had my own opinion on the matter. I was all about the law of attraction. Believe and it is drawn unto you. Shift your thoughts and focus on the positive. The kind of stuff that everybody loves to hate. This usually brings about one of two responses. Either a smirk or that look that says ‘shut up with your hocus pocus crap already’.
So I did what any good-intending friend would do in such a situation. I ran down a list of eligible men I knew, discussed the reasons why I think they qualify as men and then dug out their facebook profile pictures to make sure that they met the minimum level of required attractiveness.
Now my friend is good looking and quite intellectual and yet she made sure to stress on the notion that she was not a girl who cared about looks. “I’m not superficial,” she stated, “I care about a man’s core. His substance way more than his physical appearance or income.”
Well, this statement blew me away. I felt proud of her. Way to go girlfriend! Now that is a girl with character and I was determined to find the right man for her. How on earth was she still available anyhow?
Mido, Ramy, Ahmed, Tarek, one by one we went through their social CVs. She showed hints of interests every now and then when I mentioned that one could cook and another practiced martial arts. I had finally run out of potential names when I suddenly remembered Mohamed. On any given day, Mohamed would never be my first recommendation but I was becoming desperate.
Then it slipped out of my mouth: “He drives a motorcycle to work to avoid traffic.”
I saw my friend’s eyes light up as she suddenly grasped my hand. There was a huge smile on her face and she could barely contain herself.
“He rides a motorcycle!”, she squealed.
“Yes, but it’s just a regular motorcycle. Don’t get too excited”, I replied.
“He rides a motorcycle!”, she sang.
“It’s no Harley or Ducati princess”, I comment.
“He rides a motorcycle!”, she said.
This was insane. Her long list of manly qualities suddenly flew out the window and a motorcycle became more than enough to compensate for any characteristic flaws later on down the line.
“So when do I meet him?”