The roadside romeos of Dubai

Republished from Random Reads My first glimpse into Dubai’s dubious pick up styles was during my second week in the UAE. Coming from London, I was well-accustomed to uber-trendy, multi-cultural city living, and I assumed that I was equipped with the necessary cultural understanding to adapt to life in the world’s most luxurious cities without much adversity. Dating was the last thing on my mind. Who needed a man when they were about to embark on an illustrious career in media, anyway? I was going to work hard, soak up the sun, and live the proverbial, over-indulged expatriate life that I had previously only heard stories about. [caption id=“attachment_118799” align=“alignleft” width=“380” caption=“In Dubai, if you’re cruising down the road and you see any girl with her window slightly open, feel free to assume that her open window is an open invitation. AFP”]  [/caption] I was going to spend my evenings shopping in one of Dubai’s infamous glitzy malls, my Fridays enjoying long, gluttonous bunches at various five star hotels, and my Saturdays relaxing at the spa and then getting an unnecessary tan at the ladies’ only beach (or the other way round). Then there were the concerts, the art exhibitions, the tennis, the Formula One, horse racing, camel racing, the expos and festivals. Even if I was interested in bagging a man like every other singleton in the city, in between writing articles, attending work events and trying to make friends, there would be no time for a relationship with anything other than my Blackberry. With this in mind, I joined some newly acquired friends at a popular shisha café on a Thursday night (the Dubai equivalent of a Friday night), and ignored the groups of men dotted around the restaurant anxious make eye-contact with any semi-attractive female. In between conversations about work, relationships and Dubai living, I took a long drag of my double apple shisha, and glanced down at my phone to see I had an incoming message, via Bluetooth. Mildly surprised – I thought only people who knew each other connected via Bluetooth to share files – I accepted the request after being encouraged by a friend to find out what the message contained. The contents made me choke on my shisha. “i whant tel you you are so butfill take cer abuot you self every one he dreem he have on like you 0509190889” Before I could compose myself, another message came through, and this time, it was a picture of a man’s overly buff torso with a telephone number running across his abnormally defined pecs. This continued for the entire duration of our night out. But before you start thinking that I’m some kind of femme fatale who attracts scores of male attention wherever she goes, please know that these men didn’t even know who they were sending the messages to. They sent them to every single person who had their Bluetooth switched on in the hope that someone would return their attention. What happened to good old walking up to a girl and saying hello? It’s taken me a while, but I’ve finally realised that such a thing doesn’t exist in the desert. [caption id=“attachment_118800” align=“alignright” width=“350” caption=“Why men in Dubai try to pick up women in such obscure ways? Perhaps it’s because the UAE is an Islamic country. AFP”]  [/caption] You see, in Dubai, if you’re walking in the mall/smoking at a shisha cafe/lining up for cinema tickets and you like the fact that the being in front of you is a girl, you will stare unwaveringly, persistently, until she can’t help but feel your look and catches your eye. If she blushes and looks down, or keeps your gaze for a mini-second, this gives you the green light to carry on staring, this time alerting your friends to stare at her also. If she happens to walk past you, you can murmur ‘mashallah’ under your breath or, if you’re really gutsy, stick a post-it on her with your number on it as she passes. If she gives you a scowl, glare or contemptuous look, you can still continue staring, or throw your business card at her hoping that she will either stare back or catch it. In Dubai, regardless of whether or not you get a vibe from the women dining at the table adjacent to yours, feel free to write your number on a napkin and toss it on their table as you are leaving. If this is too old-school, then switch on your Bluetooth and send mis-spelled, corny messages to every person who has their Bluetooth switched on – you’re bound to get hold of someone eventually. In Dubai, if you’re cruising down the road and you see any girl with her window slightly open, feel free to assume that her open window is an open invitation for you to drive alongside her heckling, waving your mobile phone, holding up your number on your iPad, throwing flowers into her car, tailing her and intimidating her until you get bored. If she closes her window, who cares? It was open to begin with – surely she didn’t just want to feel some fresh air. If she speeds up to get away, speed up behind her flashing your lights – she’s bound to notice you that way. If you get a call from the police later that day, deny it all. I’ve thought long and hard about why men in Dubai try to pick up women in such obscure ways. Perhaps it’s because the UAE is an Islamic country, and open displays of forbidden acts can land you with a range of punishments. Or perhaps it’s because of Arabic culture. You see, no self-respecting Arab woman would never let a man just come up to her and start flirting with her, so the men are compelled to resort to more creative methods to persuade her to yield to their advances. Maybe it’s because the local men are just shy, and don’t want to be rejected outright, and would rather turn their pursuit into a cat-and-mouse game that can easily be laughed off in good nature should the desired outcome be left unattained. Or maybe it’s just more fun to think of new ways to get a girl’s attention. As strange as pick up tactics in Dubai are though, something, somewhere along the way must have worked. After all, despite all my earlier proclamations of having no time for a relationship, for being far more interested in my career than a man, for having better things to focus my attention on, somehow, an Arab man caught my attention and now we’re married. Dubai living, as different and complicated as it is from living anywhere else in the world, has given me more than a career in media. It’s also given me a husband, a great group of friends, and loads of fresh content for my debut novel, Desperate in Dubai. What more could I want? Other than the ability to drive to the supermarket without being followed… not much! Ameera Al Hakawati is a Dubai-based blogger and the author of Desperate in Dubai. This article was republished from Random Reads, the in-house blog of Random House India.