Hey Dilek

Dear Dilek,

 You had me in turning chairs made of fake leather and unknown cloth, for the first time in my life having my "hair done" before work for five dollars, a ridiculous amount. But life was a fashion show there and I remember fighting myself when I told you "I don't want to meet any one else." "He likes American girls" was your answer and as if that was enough of an explanation I agreed, because I truly was in love with you, and being in love means saying yes. One love isn't enough to foster another, I learned.

But part of the show was dying my hair blonde, because yellow was an extraordinary color there. And sitting in the bar where I pretended I belonged, only because it was vaguely familiar when the Turks would nod in my direction, not enough to acknowledge I belonged (because I didn't) but enough to let me pretend, for which I was grateful. Because belonging there was something I never mastered.

So I sat, and I waited, and he came.

And if he liked American girls, it was something I never experienced. But he wore sweaters that fit him with no holes, and that was something I've never dated...I came from a world of torn shirt boys and loose fitting jeans and guitars that played Alice in Chains and late night fishing for change for a bottle of whiskey from Rouse's.

I was impressed by his jeans that were dark and perfectly cut above the brown striped shoes, and his hair that was washed on a regular basis.

Was a ridiculous thing to send late night texts (or sexts) that ended in our marriage. And it was the best sex I ever had. I've heard worse reasons for marriage.

And I still don't know if he married me for the move to America, or because of love, or maybe it was the sex...but that's beyond his ability for honesty.. if asked he'll say he loved me and it was a noble move on his part, full of pride and other emotions that help develop a persona of respect. And that's why it ended in divorce...he could never be honest. Or maybe he was, and I just could never accept his answer.

And today he says I'm part of his past and he can't go there again.

And I accept because it's what I do.

And it's probably bullshit on my part that I still feel so used.