Wayward acts of commemoration

My mom called on Sunday.

"I'm about to call the embassy to check up the progress of your papers."

"Thanks," I said.

"How are you?" she asked. I told her I was okay. I tried not to reveal how upset I was, because I can't talk about guy stuff with my mom. She wouldn't understand. Nobody ever "dated" in Iran. I never even told my parents I had a "boyfriend" until I was 21 because they forbade it. Now I am alone with these kinds of problems.

This probably isn't the place to write about it, but it is a part of my identity and very much a major part of What I'm Doing While I'm Waiting To Go To Iran. I always say I want to be in a relationship, but then I find myself going on dates and eventually becoming infatuated with guys who are totally not ready for relationships. I think I do it on purpose because I'm the one who is scared of a relationship but if I can say that I'm physically going on dates and "trying", then I can tell myself that I am doing "my best." This latest guy is a total WASP in the most J.Crew catalogue/I-weekend-on-Cape-Cod-and-wear-loafers-without-socks sort of way--not my type in the least. But he was creative and funny (and he had a washer/dryer!) and we had this very electric tension and I loved the shear improbability of it. So I went over the cliff until he--inevitably--pushed on the breaks. I think I've been lying to myself that I can do this casually, secretly thinking he will change his mind, but this is an awful situation for a woman to put herself into, ultimately making one feel worthless and low.

Last Thursday, I went to a Friends of Firemen fundraiser with my girlfriend. Firemen from around the U.S. had come to New York for 9/11. The L.A. firemen contingent struck up a conversation with me and my girlfriend and, before I knew it, I was seeking a little therapy in the form of community service (a.k.a. I took an LA County Fire Department captain home). I know this sounds incredibly cliche, but what is a girl in distress supposed to do? He was the sweetest, gentlest, nicest guy I've ever met and if I never had a thing for firemen, now I do. (I'll be the first one to laugh at the fact that an Iranian hooked up with a fireman for 9/11.) And this encounter reminded me what it's supposed to be like. (He leaves back for LA this evening, despite his infatuation--again, did I pick him on purpose because I knew he wasn't going to be around?.)

Me and the WASP are not exclusive, so I told him about the fireman to get it off my chest. He suddenly became jealous and quickly made plans to hang out (after avoiding me for a week). Of course, the day we were supposed to hang out, he blew me off and said he was sick. I got upset. He repeated that he was "not in a place to be in a relationship" (when I have children--IF I ever have children--I will tell them that this is a line that means, "I am not in a place to be in a relationship with YOU"). I accepted this. Then he texted me that we should get together and work it out (adding a smiley-face emoticon to the message). So up and down goes the roller coaster. This is an addict's behavior, constantly seeking the rush.

I'm a confused person romantically. I often wish I could plumb the collective wisdom of the women in my family for their advise, but that is impossible culturally. I wonder what they would have been like if they had lived in the U.S. in my generation? Would we have shared some of the same traits? Were they ultimately happier in their arranged marriages, avoiding all dating nonsense? I'm the first female on either side of my family for all of known history to have these options, and I feel compelled to take every route possible to make up for it. Things have not turned out as black and white as I was raised to believe: There is no such thing as "bad" girls who are sluts or "good" girls who are angels. Sometimes, good girls have wayward sex. Sometimes bad girls want commitment. If only I had the stories to string it together.