Before the mighty edit of Burqalicious – The Dubai Diaries (did I mention I have a book out?! ;-)) I wrote quite a bit about Stacey’s “friend”, Haaris. Unfortunately I had to cut him out, not because this big hulk of man was boring, but because there were just too many other things to cover. Luckily I have the old manuscript here, so here’s a Friday treat: another deleted diary entry I call “The Crush”. Hope you like it! xx
“Stacey has of late, found herself in a bit of an awkward situation. In an attempt to stop the dreaded Dubai Stone attaching itself to her person, she decided to take up kickboxing, which is allegedly an enjoyable affair hosted by a very nice man from Iraq, called Haaris.
Haaris is huge. Width ways. He looks a little bit like a squished version of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime; a little bit shorter, but with the same muscular frame that makes you want to beg: “Please, can you just ask me one more time if I want some tickets to the gun show?” as you whip out your mobile phone for a photo to show your gran. He’s very healthy and he never drinks. And when he stands up, he looks a little bit like a baboon about to beat his chest; always straight, always seeming taller than he actually is.
He sometimes does commercials. We’re not exactly sure what kind of commercials, as we’ve never seen any, but it’s something he seems very proud of and he’s too scary for us to ask him any further questions about it. He’s also been a bodyguard for various celebrities in a host of different countries, so as you can imagine, he’s the kind of guy who unwittingly commands a certain type of respect.
The other night after class, Haaris invited Stacey back to his place to “drink chai” and seeing as they’ve become friends and she didn’t have much else going on, she agreed. He then asked, over the top of his teacup, if he could kiss her. Stacey was quite understandably shocked. She had no idea prior to this abrupt request that Haaris felt this way about her. She looked down at her chai feeling rather uncomfortable, before stumbling something along the lines of “Er… no… we’re just friends!”
Unfortunately, over the course of the past few weeks, Haaris has taken it upon himself to fall completely in love with Stacey. Yes, our very own brown-haired beauty has officially bent, stretched and high-kicked her way into his heart. But whilst she respects him greatly for his lovely personality and all of his past and present ventures, Stacey, sadly, is just not that into him.
Haaris was clearly mortified to learn of this. Stacey watched as he put his teacup down slowly on the table. His eyebrows knitted together in the middle of his bronzed brow. He then raised his head in a defiant manner and announced: “We cannot be friends. I don’t have any female friends. That is impossible.”
Stacey wasn’t sure if this also meant she couldn’t take part in his kickboxing classes anymore, which would have been a shame as she quite enjoys them. She wasn’t too sure what to think at all as she sloped out feeling rather guilty, and caught a cab. But thankfully, just before the next class rolled around, Haaris called her up and offered to drive her there, straight from her office. She gratefully accepted his offer, glad that they were still on speaking terms, only the traffic was so bad that they sat stationary for over an hour in awkward silence, missed the class and stood up an entire group of people.
Things clearly weren’t looking good. Realising that he’d already tried and failed the take-her-home-and-try-to-snog-her approach, Haaris gave up, turned around and drove her home, which irritatingly for both of them took another 40 minutes or so, thanks to even more traffic.
But it seems dodging a chai fuelled kiss and being forced to endure hours of silent car torture wasn’t enough for our Stacey. Determined to prove him wrong having been informed that he doesn’t have any female friends, she decided she wanted to go and support Haaris in his doorman duties, at a club in the Grand Hyatt Hotel. He’d been telling her to come along for ages, but she’d just never found the time or inclination. Now however, she had something to prove. She could be his friend, godammit.
And so it was that M&M and I found ourselves accompanying her to one of the weirdest establishments in Dubai; a nightclub on two levels, full of Polish, Indians and Filipinos, pumping out trance music. A good few hookers also found it a prime time to shake their thang all around us on the dance floor and as it happened, Haaris only had time for one orange juice before having to resume his door duties, leaving us all stuck there out of politeness. “You enjoy!” he called, turning his back on our torture.
All’s well that ends well, though. We definitely saw a smile on his face once we’d all summoned the confidence to walk past him and out into the safety of the night. We endured three hours of trance. It was a hefty price to pay but we’re pretty sure he’s forgiven Stacey for rejecting him.”