The intensity extends to our sex life, which is all one might imagine it would be with a hard-bodied, hot man in his 20s (when I mentioned to a friend how kind he was, she said she was too distracted by his looks to notice), and it's helped me remember the sexually liberated woman I was in mine. This is the first time I've had a relationship that is both carnal and profoundly emotional.
When I step back and take an objective look at us — he's 26, I'm 48 — I think I must look ridiculous.
Because he is on TV a lot and quite well-known in Tunisia, he's always had girls throwing themselves at him (and still does). He tells me that of the hundreds of women he's met, he's never met anyone like me. It's precisely my experience and my different perspective on life that makes me interesting to him.
We kissed for the first time on a snow-carpeted Red Square and, after we got married, lived in Hong Kong and London before moving back to the U. for what I thought would be a temporary period of career-building before we set off on more adventures. The adrenaline rush of living in the midst of political instability distracted me from my personal turmoil.
Twenty years and two kids later, we were still in New York, settled as firmly as if our feet had been cemented there. The pain was still there, but dealing with the trials of daily life in Egypt as a single woman was empowering.
There was something between us that transcended logic.
Being with him has felt like a -esque do-over of my previous two decades.
He was a Tunisian journalist coming to Cairo to start a new job, and he wanted my advice about neighborhoods and rents. A few days after he arrived, he asked if I'd like to get together. In the meantime, I checked out his Facebook profile and realized that he was much younger than me.