Read Online No Sex in the City by Randa Abdel-Fattah - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Randa Abdel-Fattah
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partly. I’m not a pushover. I do stand up for myself. Just not all the time. And when I don’t it’s not as simple as a lack of courage. With the tiler I felt crippled by my pity for him. With Danny, I’m crippled by my sense of duty to my parents.
‘So tell me more about the career change,’ I say.
‘I was unhappy working in an office. I know that sounds really pretentious. I mean, there are many people who don’t like working in an office but never get the opportunity to try something else. I lasted six years. While I was working I helped a cousin build his house. I got a taste for building work and loved it. I figured that if I was ever going to make a change, it had to be when I was young. So I did. And now I buy rundown homes, renovate or detonate, and then sell.’
‘That’s really inspiring,’ I say, and then I laugh. ‘That sounded so dorky. But seriously, you walked away from a career you studied hard for, to do what you’re passionate about. Not many people have the courage to do that.’
‘My dad has a different view. He flipped out when I came home and announced I’d quit my job. Me being an accountant was something that gave him immense pride. He’s still struggling to accept my decision to turn my back on it.’
‘Why?’
Yasir pauses before answering. ‘Many reasons,’ he says. ‘He had a lot to do with me getting in to accountancy. So it was a bit of a slap in the face, at least from his point of view.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When I was in high school, Year Ten, I mucked around a lot. Got really bad marks. My sister had just been accepted into pharmacy and my dad was constantly fighting with me to follow her example. One day, before the Year Ten certificate exam, he sat me down and, for the first time in his life, spoke to me man to man. He’s been driving a taxi for years. He told me that if I wanted to get my Year Ten certificate and then leave school to drive a taxi, he’ d support my decision. He said it was a good job, steady income, pick up a client from the airport, drop them off at their destination. He said I had two choices. I could either drive a taxi and pick up the businessman from the airport, or I could
be
that businessman and get picked up by a taxi driver. He didn’t care which path I decided on, so long as I made a decision and stuck with it. Then and there I decided I wanted to be that businessman. A professional. So I studied like mad, did really well in the HSC, and went on to do accountancy.’
‘I guess that explains your dad’s lack of enthusiasm for your career change.’
‘My dad complains that it’s like I was driving a Porsche and now I’ve downgraded to a bicycle. He can’t see that this is what makes me happy.’ Yasir smiles. ‘But he’ll get there,’ he says optimistically. ‘When I build him a house, and the business becomes more successful, he’ll realise life’s too short not to follow your passions.’
It’s seven o’ clock when I call an end to the date, ascribing to my ‘leave them wanting more’ rule. It’s the only rule I’ve agreed with in the relationship books Senem read obsessively before meeting Farouk. Having flipped through one or two, I have to say the bestselling ‘love gurus’ lost me after advising that on the first date a woman shouldn’t overwhelm a man with her career triumphs but instead let him shine.
When we say goodbye Yasir says three of the most beautiful words in the English language: ‘I’ll call you.’
When I check my phone on my way home I see that Lisa, Ruby and Nirvana have all sent me text messages.
Was it fate at first sight? lol
(Lisa)
Well????
(Ruby)
Hey babe, how did it go?
(Nirvana)
I send them all the same reply:
I don’t want to get my hopes up but ARGHHHHHHHH!
Nine
Here are some vital stats.
Days since I met Yasir: 4.
Telephone conversations that have lasted over one hour: 7.
Text messages: 1 million.
Butterflies in the stomach: rapidly breeding.
Number of
‘So tell me more about the career change,’ I say.
‘I was unhappy working in an office. I know that sounds really pretentious. I mean, there are many people who don’t like working in an office but never get the opportunity to try something else. I lasted six years. While I was working I helped a cousin build his house. I got a taste for building work and loved it. I figured that if I was ever going to make a change, it had to be when I was young. So I did. And now I buy rundown homes, renovate or detonate, and then sell.’
‘That’s really inspiring,’ I say, and then I laugh. ‘That sounded so dorky. But seriously, you walked away from a career you studied hard for, to do what you’re passionate about. Not many people have the courage to do that.’
‘My dad has a different view. He flipped out when I came home and announced I’d quit my job. Me being an accountant was something that gave him immense pride. He’s still struggling to accept my decision to turn my back on it.’
‘Why?’
Yasir pauses before answering. ‘Many reasons,’ he says. ‘He had a lot to do with me getting in to accountancy. So it was a bit of a slap in the face, at least from his point of view.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When I was in high school, Year Ten, I mucked around a lot. Got really bad marks. My sister had just been accepted into pharmacy and my dad was constantly fighting with me to follow her example. One day, before the Year Ten certificate exam, he sat me down and, for the first time in his life, spoke to me man to man. He’s been driving a taxi for years. He told me that if I wanted to get my Year Ten certificate and then leave school to drive a taxi, he’ d support my decision. He said it was a good job, steady income, pick up a client from the airport, drop them off at their destination. He said I had two choices. I could either drive a taxi and pick up the businessman from the airport, or I could
be
that businessman and get picked up by a taxi driver. He didn’t care which path I decided on, so long as I made a decision and stuck with it. Then and there I decided I wanted to be that businessman. A professional. So I studied like mad, did really well in the HSC, and went on to do accountancy.’
‘I guess that explains your dad’s lack of enthusiasm for your career change.’
‘My dad complains that it’s like I was driving a Porsche and now I’ve downgraded to a bicycle. He can’t see that this is what makes me happy.’ Yasir smiles. ‘But he’ll get there,’ he says optimistically. ‘When I build him a house, and the business becomes more successful, he’ll realise life’s too short not to follow your passions.’
It’s seven o’ clock when I call an end to the date, ascribing to my ‘leave them wanting more’ rule. It’s the only rule I’ve agreed with in the relationship books Senem read obsessively before meeting Farouk. Having flipped through one or two, I have to say the bestselling ‘love gurus’ lost me after advising that on the first date a woman shouldn’t overwhelm a man with her career triumphs but instead let him shine.
When we say goodbye Yasir says three of the most beautiful words in the English language: ‘I’ll call you.’
When I check my phone on my way home I see that Lisa, Ruby and Nirvana have all sent me text messages.
Was it fate at first sight? lol
(Lisa)
Well????
(Ruby)
Hey babe, how did it go?
(Nirvana)
I send them all the same reply:
I don’t want to get my hopes up but ARGHHHHHHHH!
Nine
Here are some vital stats.
Days since I met Yasir: 4.
Telephone conversations that have lasted over one hour: 7.
Text messages: 1 million.
Butterflies in the stomach: rapidly breeding.
Number of
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