Chapter 1

As I looked at the profiles on the “mature gay dating” web site, I found myself asking, Why am I doing this?It had been almost a year since my last breakup, and I swore then that I would never again go down the romance road. But you know how it goes when there’s a breakup: all the friends choose sides. And since most of ourfriends were his friends—well, you get the idea. I needed a new set of friends.

I quickly posted a rather vanilla profile: Looking to make new friends, possibly more if the chemistry is there. But you never know. Sometimes you find love when you’re least expecting it. Then I added a few pictures, but nothing too racy. After quickly getting past all the unflattering pictures of naked guys (God, can’t these people preserve at least a little mystery for the first date?), I found a few possibilities. A couple of guys in a nearby town. Another guy in Guatemala. Corresponding with him would be great for practicing my Spanish. Another guy close by who seemed interested in meeting me.

But another profile caught my eye. It was different from the others, perhaps more sincere. Looking for the man of my dreams, who will become my husband and with whom I will spend the rest of my life. I am willing to move anywhere in the world. Please be honest, drug and disease free, compassionate, romantic, and moral. If you are not all these qualities, please do not respond.

I was about to pass this profile by, when I saw the place this man lived. Algeria!

Wow. What was a Muslim man in a country that frowns on homosexuality (to put it mildly) doing on this website? There were no pictures. Probably a wise move on his part. Yet, it must have taken a fair amount of courage to post a profile on this website in a country where emails could be closely monitored. I was somehow drawn to it. While the last couple of words in the profile hardly described me, I wanted to talk to him. Given the current practice of demonizing Muslims in this country, I thought about how much I could learn from a dialogue with him.

I read the profile several more times. I couldn’t imagine why I would respond to him. We couldn’t have less in common. He was eighteen years younger than me. I would never have a chance at meeting him. This was not a country where I would ever consider travelling. I looked at the profile again. Fluent in Arabic, French, Spanish, Catalan, and English.

Wow. He didn’t seem like your average Middle Easterner. On the excuse that it would be another opportunity to practice my Spanish, I wrote him a short response: We live far apart, but I would enjoy talking to you and learning more about you and your culture.

Yes, maybe he could help me to understand the current attitude toward Muslims in America. In any event, it would be educational.

A couple of days later I received a response. I liked your profile and your pictures. Yes, I would like to correspond with you. Ask me any question you like about my culture. And I would enjoy hearing about your life in England.

I didn’t know the reason he assumed I lived in England, but I knew that I had better set him straight about this right away. It was my impression that Americans weren’t real popular in countries like Algeria. But after I sent him a message informing him that I was American, I received this response:

It doesn’t matter to me whether you are British, French, German, Canadian, or American. I am a peaceful man who believes in respect for all people. Please, continue to dialogue with me. I will send you some pictures so that you know a bit more about me.

The pictures were, to say the least, the beginnings of my education of what life was like for him. In one picture, he was seated barefoot on the floor of a mosque. In another, dressed in a leather jacket in front of a soccer stadium in Spain. Yet another in Arab attire in his bedroom. A picture of him coaching a children’s soccer game. And yet another, in a bright green swimsuit lounging by a pool. In all of them, the confident, attractive face of a man comfortable in his own skin, in his own culture.

So what was he doing on a gay website? I asked him this in our next exchange.

You are a Muslim, and you live in a country where homosexuality is probably a crime. How do you reconcile this, live with this?

The answer was clear and concise. It is my personal business what I am, how the creator made me. We do not discuss it here. It is taboo. But I know I am gay. I have known for a long time. A few years ago, a marriage was arranged for me. But I eventually had to call it off. I could not go through with it. I am sure some people have come to their own conclusions about me, but they say nothing about it. As I say, it is taboo to discuss it.