The Ex-Files: Five Stages of Grief

“He is not the one for you,” Jo told me while we sit in a small park in the heart of Damascus, “Sama, have you lost your mind? He can’t seem to have any conversation to share with you, he is spending your money as he pleases, he doesn’t like your friends and quit frankly he doesn’t seem to like you.”
The guy is sitting next to her now. He looks uninterested in sharing anything with her. He has his eyes on someone else in the park. Someone younger than me; smoother than me; thinner than me. He looks at him and I seems to notice an unspoken conversation between the two of them. I refuse to believe my eyes and I continue the conversation with Jo.
“But I do care for him a huge deal, Jo” I tell her in English, comfortably discussing him knowing he doesn’t speak the language, “I just think that he’ll be a better person”, I say, “I think with the right amount of caring, and if I put enough effort into helping him developing his personality, he would be fine.” She shacks here head and decides not to continue the conversation.

Humam, my roommate, knows all about him. “He is using you, Sama,” he explains to me, “the same way he used his ex-boyfriend. He is with you because you’re providing him with a roof on top of his head, a hot meal every evening and a pack of cigarettes everyday. You’re a perfect catch, Sama, why do you do that to yourself? Why do you stay with him?”. I explain to him that I don’t see it that way. “He loves me, I’m sure of it,” I say, while I notice him going to my bedroom, picking up my iPod and playing a game on it in the livingroom. “You can’t see it but we all do, all of your friends can tell. He only cares for you because you are providing him with money and luxury,” he says, “ask him if he would like to find a job; or explain to him that you can’t spend money on him anymore and see his reaction.”

That evening, I suggest to him that he should find a job. “You don’t need to pay for anything, and I’ll keep paying for everything you need, just find a job that would fill your day with work and maybe you can save some money,” I ask him, and a fight is insured; he doesn’t want to work; he doesn’t want to leave my house to his family’s house. He doesn’t want to change anything.


The fight continued; and it reached a high level that I’ve never experienced before with anyone. “I’m not going to spend more money on you,” I remember saying, “you’re welcomed to stay in my house; and I love you and I want you to be my boyfriend; but you need to start working on getting your own money.” He started shouting and screaming; picked up a bottle of Whisky on my table and smashed it to the floor next to my feet. then, picked up another faze on the corner; and smashed it to the wall next to my head. I got seriously scared. I picked up a long wooden stick and started waving it. “Stay back!” I started screaming, “and leave my house this very moment.” I was angry; almost ready to kick him out. I’ve never been insulted, or threatened, in my whole life this way.

I started roaming the house. I was totally alone. No friends to witness this; or to help me calm him down. I wanted him out of my house and out of my life. I did not want this person to stay. “Go out! Now! I don’t want you anymore!” I started screaming, and he explained that he is not leaving; never again to leave. “I’m never leaving it for you, this is my right to get what I want from you. I’m not losing my sources this easily.” It was obvious that my friends were right.

Three hours later; and he is not leaving my house. I tried everything: Talking to him, threatening him with the police; explaining to him that he can’t stay anymore; that I don’t accept violence in my house at all. I explained to him that he needs to leave in so many ways. yet, he is not leaving. He is refusing to leave.


“OK, you can stay!” I tell him so, and I feel guilty right away. I was not telling the truth. I did not want him anymore. However, I did not find a way to get him to leave but to buy myself some time and try to find a better solution. The next morning; I pretended that for religious reasons, I can’t have sex with him for two weeks; which is laughable, really, everyone knew I was not relaigious at all.

He didn’t care. It seemed like it was a relief for him, really. He doesn’t need to pretend that he likes me anymore. He just can sit around and order stuff that he wants. “I want a new hair product,” he would text me, “I want an expensive dinner tonight,” he would demand. I wanted him out; and to get him out, I needed to play his game.

I don’t know, did he know that it was his final days? suddenly, he did not try to even hide how much he wants to use me. “I want new clothes, I want a new watch, let’s buy this, let’s get that!” he would demand and go crazy when I refuse to play this game.

However, all of his games ended when I found a condom stolen from my own drawer in his pocket; that was it. That night, I kicked him. He was screaming and shouting; but he was out the door.


I’m not depressed because I kicked him out, God knows it is a great relief to get ride of this blood sucker of a man. I’m depressed because of the two months I spent trying to actually turn this into a real relationship. I am sadden that, like always, I turn out to be the naive one; and people take advantage of that. I’m depressed that, while he was crying his eyes out asking me to keep him, he had the time to go to my bedroom and steal some of my stuff.

He, on the other hand, is depressed because when my friends saw him the other day; he was with a guy who is paying for his cigarettes, food and liqure; but that guy was treating him like shit. Telling him that he bought him with money, explaning to him that he is only a sex-toy; and getting phone calls from other gay guys to flirt with while he is at it. He is depressed because he, finally, figured out that he played ball with me; and he lost.


Today, I deleted all of his photos from my mobile phone, and I wrote this post.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: Damascus, I think we’ve got a problem « Sama Says

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