MEET
THE WEEPING WILLOW

Let me introduce to you the 'Weeping Willow'. It is the man who weeps himself into your hug, your bed and your pants. I saw the maneuvers of this man reeeaaaalll close. More closer than I wanted. For much longer than needed. And I swear, if I knew how to make a sailors knot - I would have done so and hanged myself.

My ordeal started with a 250,000 pkr trip to Baku. Yes I had paid for everything on this trip by my own money. Weeping Willow had not paid for even a portion of it. Yet one of his directives to me had been 'your job is to take care of me'. 

I will never the forget the wasted 250,000. Had I not stubbornly decided to optimistically focus on the priceless lessons learnt - I would have been sobbing for one year two months and seventeen days for the way I had burnt my money. Actually I will be sobbing about it forever. I had paid 250,000 for my own harassment.

The first two days were absolutely great. Willow and I had a great repertoire. He had a great sense of humor. There was an excitement of a trip with our mutual group of friends.

The third night, Weeping Willow made a request while i was about to drift off to sleep."I am having such a terrible time with my family. My relationship with my daughters is crumbling. All i ask is that you hold my hand, as a friend." I did. Because we were friends. Because an opportunist never lets go of a moment for physical opportunity. He used sympathy. He preyed upon our friendship to get what he wanted without any regard to how I felt.

He fluttered around me like a panicked bat. he gestured his long spindly fingers when ordering food for the group. His hand movements were as erratic as if he had put his fingers into an electric socket. Everything about him annoyed me.

And when we all returned drunk, high and exhausted and went to our beds to sleep. I awoke to him massaging my back and pulling at jeans. Thank god I had been wearing a belt. In my drunken stupor I pushed him off and tumbled out to the lounge and went to sleep on the sofa. 

"Sleeping on the sofa Rahma?" Asked Pathan.
"Yes, I came out of bed to read."
He smiled and asked, "Who reads while drunk?"

The respect and dignity of the Weeping Willow was made my shameful responsibility. The encroachments of my physical boundaries by the Weeping Willow became my heavy secret to bear. Don't spoil the trip everyone. Go with the flow. Address this at a later time.

I shared what had happened with my best friend. There was no purpose of sharing, I had no other outlet. I could not walk away. The dynamics of the group was to remain intact while on the trip. 

My best friend spoke about it to her husband. The most suitable time he found for bringing up this very sensitive topic was when he and his wife were in an intense argument and were staggeringly drunk. While the two of them were grunting in a sexual frenzy I was left picking up the shards of the conversation they had with Weeping Willow. They had reprimanded him for 'touching' me - at club -while drunk - during an intense argument between themselves. Amidst bouts of screaming and shouting and sobbing we drove back to the resort. We all went our rooms. Weeping Willow and ours was a connected room to my best friend and her husband. It was to the backdrop of them pounding  each other sexually that Weeping Willow and I had our adult conversation

Weeping Willow started to cry.

"I have never wanted anyone to fight because of me. Why did The Husband tell me to stop touching you Rahma? Have I ever touched you inappropriately?" He asked with torment. His torment did not stem out of concern for me. It  arose solely from the distress of being admonished. Tears ran down his face. He felt very sorry for himself and they way he had been misunderstood. 

The privileges of being a victim. The garnering of undeserved sympathy. His question was focused on his humiliation not mine. 

A man of honor and self respect would have addressed the situation by saying something along the lines of: "Has any act, any behaviour of mine made you uncomfortable? I deeply apologise. That has not been my intention. Lets clear this out." None of this was expressed. 

His tears were for his plight. For the shame of being told to respect someone elses boundaries. And with his slimey, goey,icky self pity he got a hug and a chance to lay on my bed, by my side, with his disgusting legs and sleazy arms around me. 

The degradation of that moment wells up a grey cloud of disgust and anger in my chest. 

The next day Weeping Willow and I were still formally friends. 

Internally I hated what he had maneuvered. Made me helpless and got what he wanted. With his tears he muted my voice. And made me play the facade of friendship. 

When I came back home. My anger and irritation against him avalanched. I avoided talking to him, his company, his phone calls, everything. He would provoke me even more with annoying statements directed at me. My best friend said, "You're overreacting. He's provoking you because you're letting him get to you. Be normal with him."

She tried to rationalise away my anger. Leaving me confused, conflicted and gaslit. I trusted her. I loved her. She hadn't breached my trust. He had. I trusted that she had my best interest at heart. Her rationalisation discredited my experience. I might have forgiven her had she apologised. She hadn't. Because for her, I had never been important enough.

coming back to Weeping Willow

Actually.

Leave it.

Id rather never sit under the shade of the Weeping Willow.