You Heard Her

“Until you.”

Farah’s words hit me like a two-ton hammer. Somehow, she’d imprinted on me. Granted, I don’t know all the ins and outs of what imprinting means in terms of the Saudi fetish, but from what I have learned in biology and psychology classes, it certainly doesn’t seem like something frivolous. Newly born animals imprint upon their parents and it is a driving **** in their development. I was suddenly very glad that I had a beer in my hand, as I took a long pull from the can, both to quench my suddenly arid mouth, and to stall my response.

“You’re saying that you have imprinted on me? I thought that required a romantic relationship, right?”

“Well, from what I understand, most of the time you’d be right. That being said, I need to confess something to you.” Farah paused for a moment to polish off her beer. “I think it is pretty safe to say that we’ve become good friends.” She seemed to breathe a little easier as I nodded my confirmation. “In all honesty, you’re my best friend, but it’s more than that. From the moment I hugged you that first night, I had a teeny, tiny little crush on you. You were so nice to me, the way you responded to the surprise of getting a female roommate was amazing! I don’t know if you noticed, but the Hall Director was trying to prepare herself for the worst case scenario. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Especially when she saw the condoms. She thought it meant you knew and were planning to try and take advantage of the situation, or that you had no idea what was coming your way.”

“I KNEW she threw those condoms away! She tried to be so slick.” I exclaimed, pumping my fist into the air.

“You figured out the Italian woman didn’t care for condoms. Well done, Inspector Clouseau.” Quickly sticking out her tongue to accent her jibe Farah continued. “In the months since that first night I got to know you more, and that teeny tiny little crush grew to the point that as far as my heritage’s fetish is concerned, we were in a romantic relationship, albeit not a physical one. So, recently, I started to feel really weird around you.”

“Starting about two weeks ago, I’m guessing?” I interrupted.

“Yeah, I guess you picked up on it before I did. I’ve been talking to my mom. She never imprinted herself. Her relationship to my dad was an arranged marriage, and he died before they grew close enough for the fetish to kick in. That was actually a bit lucky. I've heard some horror stories about Saudi women who lost their imprinted 'master.' Afterward, she actively avoided establishing close relationships with any men. She had a couple of friends go off the deep end fulfilling their harem fetish that the prospect of losing herself scared her away from forming connections with men, a privilege of being rich, I suppose. Would have been great for her to let me know that little detail earlier. Either way, I told her what’s been going on, she...relieved me of my ‘delusion’ of being immune, and told me I needed to talk to you as soon as possible.”

I have never been the most adept at reading women. My sisters have always been quick to point that out. But, even I was able to see that Farah was gearing herself up to get to the really important part of this conversation, and she was more than a little terrified of how it was going to go.

“Farah, you should know that that I’ve had a full-blown crush on you since the moment you tackled me. I haven’t been able to get the smell of your perfume out of my head. I just want you to know that the attraction has certainly been going both ways. I know you’re trying to say something important, but I just want you to know, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that John. Because, as I said, I have imprinted on you. In my mind, I am completely, and hopelessly, love you. It feels as if my life’s purpose is to devote myself to you and your happiness.”

“Wow…” I can safely say I have never been more stunned and speechless than I was in that moment. Well, almost. Farah still had yet to drop the other shoe.

“Yeah, wow is right. But then there is the second half of the Saudi Arabian fetish. The harem fascination. Ever since I imprinted onto you, my mind has been awash with fantasies of assembling you a harem of beautiful women. All as devoted to you as I am. Because that will make you happy. This leads me to an important question. Are you willing to accept me as your devoted girlfriend and harem member?”