Like poker, life is full of unexpected surprises. A constant game of trying to work out who you can, and who you can’t, trust. An idea that is especially relevant in Dubai; where making quick judgements is a required skill as opposed to a desired one.
With the majority of people moving out to Dubai alone, your inner circle no longer has the luxury of boasting of lifelong friends but instead is made up of what’s her face (that girl you met in the toilets at brunch last month); thingymagig (the girl you hit it off with at the first work meeting two weeks ago); and who can forget whatdoyoumacallher (the girl you met from some random club that you joined a week ago for some random activity that you don’t even like…).
While for many these random encounters blossom into lifelong friendships with myself, what’s her face, thingymagig and whatdoyoumacallher still going strong several months/years down the line; for many they also end in disaster with the reality of their character only coming to fruition once they show you their hand and you realise they have been misleading you this entire time…
For me, my first experience of this came in the form of Mr. Bluff formerly known as Mr. Buff – see what I did there?
From the very first encounter, Mr. Bluff seemed very much like the ideal guy. Smart, good looking, kind and honest – I mean, how many more green flags did we need? However, like any good poker player, Mr. Bluff knew to not show his real hand too early. He knew that the key to success was to play the long game.
Therefore, once I was firmly tied in with no way to wriggle out – yes, the euphemism is purposeful for all you kinky bitches out there – did he begin to let some of his ‘tells’ slip.
The odd cough here, to reveal that he was actually seeking comfort as opposed to seeking commitment. An occasional twitch there, giving away that he was still very emotionally damaged, using me as his pain killer, as opposed to being emotionally available. And the frequent erratic eye contact everywhere to disclose that actually, while appearing extremely mature and stable, he was in fact immature and fucking all over the place.
Yet by that point I was roped in; unable to see the reality of the situation and blinded by the bluff. The bluff being that we would be together. That he saw a future with me in it. That he said he loved me.
It seems that an emotional bluff is always the most effective in fooling someone. A common tactic used by many game players for their coveted outcome. However, whether he had meant it as a game play from the very start I don’t think I will ever know. But that’s definitely what it turned into.
And while this play had allowed him to heal himself emotionally, to build himself back up until he felt confident enough to ‘lad’ it back up on the Dubai strip, it had unfortunately had the opposite effect on me. I was drained. Empty. Reliant on him for my happiness.
You see, in the two week break that we had – yes, I now know that a break never works…- I suddenly realised how much he defined my life in Dubai.
We had met two weeks after I had moved out. He had helped me to settle in. Comforted me when things got unbearably tough at work and stolen my virginity – not in that sense – of many staple Dubai firsts that every newbie does when they first move out. As a consequence of this, his ghost was very much a part of the Dubai landscape and everything in it for me therefore, how did my Dubai life continue without him? How did I stop myself from being haunted by his memory if things ended?
And, despite the clear signs, despite everything my friends had said and despite my better judgement I still hoped that things would work out. That this ‘break’ would be the make of us. I mean, a time witch could have travelled back from the future and shown me video footage of what happened next and I still would have clung on to the hope that things would work out. The hope that we would be together; because clinging on to that hope was better than falling into the sadness.
However, when Mr. Bluff arrived at my apartment to discuss what to do next…I knew there was no next. He had unveiled his hand; taking me for everything I had. A royal flush. We were done; he just didn’t think he would ever be ready for a relationship again (if only a time witch had appeared to him from 6 months in the future…). A war cry heard by many girls in Dubai and here I was now joining them, a part of the ranks.
Moral of the story? Don’t ever play a fucking card game you don’t understand.