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2006 - What Should Have Been A Love Story But Was Not

by Trudy (1/6/2009)

More disappointment

Monday July 31st 2006

            I get dressed in another different skirt. Another disappointment: Cetin told me in June he likes to see me in skirts, as a real woman. Besides the first moment, he never said anything about my looks. Am I not beautiful enough? I think I am. I have been to the hairdresser and the beauty salon. I had a complete wax and I bought beautiful lingerie. He does not see it and does not make any compliment.

            Today is the first day we make it in time for hotel breakfast. I ask Cetin what he wants to do today. Again, he shrugs. Oh, that lack of interest, it makes me so angry. I ask him what he wants to do because I want it to be a nice day for both of us. I ask him if he wants to see Aya Sofia, he said he has never been there. “If you want to,” he answers. No, with so less interest, I decide we are not going. We drink tea at a terrace opposite of The Baths of Lady Hürrem, close to the Hippodrome. I get money from the ATM and give him a 100 lira for the bus. After tea, he wants to go back to the hotel, washing his clothes. Tomorrow he will go for two weeks to the mountains. No problem, I will read my detective novel, lying on the bed. When he is finished with washing his clothes, he wants to go back in town. To internet café Otantik to see if those tourists he has to pick up tomorrow responded to his mail. I understand because I know it is about a large amount of money. At the same time, I do not understand. If he paid attention to me the rest of the time, going on the internet for half an hour would not be a problem. Now it seems the next attempt to avoid being close and personal. I wonder if he is able of being ‘normal’ to them, if his head is so full. Alternatively, is this just a case of ‘was sich liebt das neckt sich’, like the Germans say? (People who love each other do tease each other the most.)

            Cetin says he knows a good fish restaurant. Close to the Pharos Lighthouse with a view at the Sea of Marmara. I think it is a great idea, I am a bit hungry. We start eating in silence again. I cut the silence and tell him he is hurting me terribly with his silence and calling in Kurdish. He reacts irritated and uncomplaining. Irritated because I start all over again. “Sorry, I cannot let it go. I have so many questions in my head of which I like to have an answer”. Uncomplaining because he knows what he is doing to me. He does not want to be like this. He does not want to hurt me. However, with every word he says to me or every word I say to him, he keeps seeing that prison door. His head is so full. “Nevertheless”, he says, “you don’t understand”. “Yes”, I deny, “I do understand. The difference between you and me is that you keep things inside and I want to talk about it. Talking relieves so much.” He says he told me, what am I talking about?

            Then his phone rings (again). A friend from Dogubayazit who tells him about the bombing attack in the region. His face sets. More problems because he thinks things like this will make the government close down the area for tourists. Even less money than there is now. He has to pay for his children. How does he have to do that? I ask him if this means that he has to go back to Dogubayazit immediately, partly scared he will say yes just to get rid of me. No, he says, I do not. He also says why he is smoking and drinking so much. In a few weeks that is not possible anymore.

            Cetin asks what my family name is. Is this another signal of lack of interest? My last name has five letters, which is not too difficult, I have sent him a copy of the booking form of the hotel, and my name is on that form. He also says he always delete every sms after reading, mine too. He shows me his inbox and yes, almost empty. Not so romantic, to handle sweet messages like this. I show him my telephone with all his saved messages and he smiles a bit sarcastic.

            I ask him why he is not touching me anymore. Explaining that I do not mean sex but just a hand on my arm or shoulder. He says that too has to do with his problems. He just cannot force himself doing it. Maybe he does not want to touch me for a complete month. Nice, next month I will be in Holland and he will be in prison. I tell him I am scared to touch him. He asks if I am scared that he would punch me. “No, I am not afraid of that, I m afraid of another rejection,” I say. “Well, I never said you could not touch me,” he answers.

            He says something about my looks. He thinks I am too fat; I could loose some five kilo’s. Another nice remark. He is the only one who is saying this; all other people think I am slim. They say Dutch people are straight in their answers...

            I suddenly realize that I have to take my pill, I forgot it last night. Cetin sees I am taking something and asks if I use medicine. No, I say, just birth control. That word he does not know in English I guess, he looks as if he does not understand. I ask if he likes to have a little Cetin. With a look of disgust on his face, he says no. His own children he did not want really, his ex-wife wanted them. Aha, now I understand his remark ‘you are in trouble girl’ from yesterday morning. He was apparently afraid of me getting pregnant.

            I ask what he wants to do. “Sit, drink and be silent,” he says. With some difficulty, I can withhold an angry remark. Okay, I say, you can do all that in another place. I want to go back to the hotel. I am tired and I would like to take a nap. He says that during my nap he will take a walk, some extra fresh air, trying to get his head clear. Good idea. We agree he will be back in an hour. When he returns I am just awake. Holding the sheet in front of my body, I do not want to give the idea of an invitation. I get dressed and he says let us go. “Can I please have a kiss,” I ask. “No” he says and he turns his head away from me. That hurts a lot. More than a punch in my face would do. I feel that on the inside I freeze, I am getting sick of this. I do understand many things; I try to talk and to listen but this behaviour I do not like. Why is he with me and most of all: why does he stay with me? He does not talk, hardly looks at me, and does not touch me. This is awful, I feel ignored and neglected, as if I am just air. I do not put a gun against his head to force him, do I? I cannot imagine that this weekend is nice for Cetin as well.

            Outside I ask where and what he wants to have for dinner. He shrugs again, “you decide, you are the boss because you will pay”. Damn you, I will show you who the boss is. Rigid from anger and with ice-cold eyes I walk away. I do not know if he will come too. Yes, in a trudged way he follows. I tell him I do not want to go too far from the hotel, my bus will leave tomorrow morning very early and I do not want to sleep late. Close to the hotel, there is a Chinese restaurant. I like that; Chinese food is most of the time not so greasy. “Have you ever eaten Chinese?” “No,” he says. “Fine, then you can try it now. I take hot and sour soup and a tofu salad”. Cetin does not want anything; he looks at the illustrated menu with explanation in Chinese, English and Turkish. Nothing he wants. He wants only beer. “It is up to you,” I think. I eat my salad with chopsticks, I am used to that. He looks as if he is interested but again he does not say a word.

            He says he cannot come with me to the airport. He wants to go to the otogar early; maybe he can catch a bus to Trabzon at seven o’clock. Another disappointment. I tell him I should not have made a transfer reservation for him. I would have saved energy and money. At the same time a thought occurs. Is he scared to go to the airport? A place with so many police officers and customs? Is he afraid of being watched, followed? On the other hand, am I just finding another excuse for his behaviour now?

            After dinner, I want to go back to the hotel, pack my things and read my book. I do not expect any initiative from him. I tell him to do what he likes. He goes with me to the room, start folding his clothes and packing too. Then he says something that makes me furious. “I am going out,” he says, “I will be back before ten o’clock”. In addition, he leaves the room, leaving me alone. Some abusive words leave my mouth. What an asshole! Doing what he likes does not mean leaving me here alone!

            Forty-five minutes later, it is just after nine o’clock, he returns. I lay on the bed reading my book and I say hello when he comes in, but I do not get an answer. He sits on the bed, his back towards me. He undresses and starts smoking. Silently. Inside me, something breaks, I feel wounded. At home, I want to tell people about this weekend and my experiences. If I do not tell him that and he will find out later, he will say, “See, I cannot trust you”. I want to be honest and open. That is why I tell him I will not keep my promise not to tell anyone about his imprisonment. He asks why. I tell him, that certainly to my sister and good friends, I am not going to say I had a wonderful weekend. It was not that nice, I snap.

            He looks at me with an expression on his face I do not recognize. Is it surprise, pain, anger? Again, he remains silent and he starts replacing his things on the floor. Then he takes the blanket of the bed and start folding it as if it is a mattress. “You want to sleep on the floor?” I ask him. “Yes,” he says. “I don’t think so”, I reply, “If you do you can leave the hotel now”. “Damn, I am not that disgusting that you don’t want to lie next to me?” Again no answer. I explode. “I want my hundred liras back,” I say, “for a man who is treating me like dirt I don’t pay a cent.” Without any comment, he takes his wallet and gives me the money. I know he will have difficulties to go back by bus and I have no idea where he will stay tonight but at this moment, I do not care. It hurts so much to be treated like a street dog. I am so angry that I say I do not believe a word of his story. That I think he is married and living with his wife. He smiles sarcastic and only says, “Yes of course”. “Well,” I say, “at least now you can say that there is another woman you cannot trust”. He gets dressed again, packs his things, takes a cigarette but leaves the rest of the packet, I have paid for them. Then he leaves the room without saying a single word. I lean out of the window and see him walking to the end of the street, going around the corner, his sport bag in his hands. Strange, but I do not feel sad now. I am surprised I can be so tough, to throw someone out without any money. I did not think I could. By the way, during this complete fight I was never afraid of him or of any aggression.

            I like to tell what happened so I sms my sister. She panics. She calls me from Holland; she wants to know how I am doing. Her words make me think. I close the door and the window and I see he forgot two pair of pants to take with him. I feel sorry for him. He does not have so many clothes and he is not going home now. I send him a sms that he can pick up his pants tomorrow morning. Almost directly, I get an answer: “Thanks, I will do that”. I put the alarm extra early; a taxi might be a good idea.


Tuesday August 1st 2006

            The panicking reaction of my sister makes that I hardly can sleep. At 03.30, I get up, get dressed and pack my stuff. When I arrive in the lobby with my luggage and Cetin’s two pants at four thirty, the hotel staffs are surprised. They check the fax the air company sends for departure times. I give them the pants and tell them that my ex-boyfriend will pick them up later today. My boyfriend, they ask? “No, my ex”. If they really do know what to do with them, I am not sure. Then I say I want a taxi. Surprise again: “Why, the bus will come in one hour. Or else the shuttle bus?” “No”, I say somewhat impatiently, “I want a taxi”. The taxi takes me in 45 minutes to the airport. The amount of 71 liras is not as high as I expected but the driver tries to rip me off. I wait, wait, and finally get my change. Also on this airport I am too early, I have to wait again. I send Cetin a sms with the message he probably is the reason I will never go to Turkey again. He does not respond.

            The plane leaves in time and around eleven o’clock we land on Schiphol Amsterdam Airport. My sister is waiting for me. When I see her, I have to cry. We make a joke about it: “That always happens to me when I arrive,” she says. To tell her my story we drink coffee in a small bar at Schiphol Plaza. I notice to myself that none of the things that happened is big to me but that I mind the continuation of the things. My sister agrees and she does not understand why. She thought as I did that Cetin had feelings for me, why go to all this trouble if he did not? Then my phone rings. Cetin. I panic, what is this? Almost immediately, I receive a sms, a business like. He is at the hotel and the staff there says that I did not give them his pants. Strange, it is 13.30 in Turkey now and he is still at the hotel? I thought he wanted to leave at seven o’clock in the morning? Probably a real money problem that he cannot leave. I sms him that I did give his pants but that I think the receptionist took them for himself. I wish him strength and luck in the future. I also say that if he had behaved differently this horrible fight would not have happened. My sister says that if he is a real man, he will answer, even if it is only one word. No, I do not expect that. I do know him to well for that, too much pride. Indeed, until now there is no answer.

            We say goodbye and both go home. At home, I unpack, eat, check my email and try to sleep. I cannot sleep well. I am exhausted but my head is so full that within one hour I am awake again. Cetin’s telephone numbers I skip from my phone, his sms I put on my USB stick. I remove all files with pictures, mails and stories. I do not want to hurt myself every time to see his name. I delete him from my MSN contact list but I do not block him. I do not expect to get a reaction but if he wants to say anything, it should be possible. I find, and found, his behaviour terrible but my feelings for him are not gone. I miss him very much. He affects me deeply; a lot deeper than I thought was possible when falling in love with him. It will take a while, before it is over. I will see. In any case, this weekend in Istanbul was not exactly what I expected it to be...

            It is not finished for me, there are open ends. I still do not know why he reacted like this. Is it true he said he did not want to be like this but his head was so full? Is it fear, to loose me because of his imprisonment and he didn’t want to have and feel more pain that he started to get rid of me? Was I his last ‘pleasure’ before going to prison? If so, I should have thought he wanted to have more sex. Am I not good enough in bed? He knows how I am, I did surprise him once…. Is there something else I absolutely am not allowed to know, another secret? Am I too European, too independent? Is there too much difference in status, age and culture? Indeed, I am not an obedient woman like some Turkish or Kurdish women are, did he expect that kind of behaviour from me? On the other hand, did I just not fulfil his dreams and is this the ultimate dumping? Questions, questions, questions but no answers.

            I now do not have the slightest idea and that is not a nice feeling. Maybe I will get my diary translated into Turkish and I will send it to him. Then he knows exactly how I felt and why I reacted as I did. I do not know if he will do anything with my diary, if he responds. To me it is just a way to finish. I have to think about it, I am in no hurry. I find it such a pity it happened like this. I had such nice dreams about this weekend. We even spoke about being a week or so together in Antalya or Side after the tourist season, a trip I promised him to pay for as a present. That is not a possibility anymore. Cetin is still the man in my thoughts, he is in my heart. And now? Will there ever be contact between us again, even if it is only as friends? Should I try to forget him? I know that will never happen, I had some paradise days with him in June.

            Cetin, if you ever read this: there will always be a place in my heart for you!


(This diary is written on August 2nd 2006 and in the meantime, my feelings for Cetin have changed radically. After two months, it became clear that his story of the prison was a lie…).

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2006 - What Should Have Been A Love Story But Was Not

1. 2006 - What Should Have Been A Love Story But Was Not
2. More disappointment

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