I was rushing to get to a BBQ party one August.  I was living the dream life in Chicago, working and residing downtown during the dot com boom. Friends were plentiful and we spent our downtime lounging on back porches grilling up free range and organic food from Wild Oats, musing about life and love, and comparing stock portfolios.

"Why aren't you dating?" was the most common question asked of me.  Reasonably attractive and intelligent, I was troubled by dating life and never had much luck.  So I made a promise to myself in front of friends:

I will go out with anyone who asks (within reason).

Hailing a cab, I was not looking my best.  Sweaty, rumpled shorts, wearing my most hated glasses as I just didn't think it would be a huge deal on that steamy Saturday.  The cabbie flipped a u-turn in the middle of La Salle Street to pick me up.

"Where to?" he asked.  Barely looking up, I whispered "North and Damon". 

"Where?"

"North and Damon" I repeated louder.

He commenced driving, looking a tad confused.  

"Do you know how to get there?" he asked politely.

"Dude, is this your first day driving a cab?"  I shot back.

"Um, yes.  So sorry.  Yes it is." he meekly replied.

For the street hardened girl that I was, this little wrinkle of my trip was laughable.   Normally, I would have spit out the directions in irritation but for some reason (possibly the promise of wine and grilled scallops at my destination), I relented and helped him get me to where I wanted to go.

When I paid and attempted to leave, the cabbie stopped me.  He was dark skinned, wearing a print scarf on his head, and had a beard.  I normally went for Italian-esque guys that worked in finance.  He pleaded with me to give him my phone number.  After some conversation,  I relented. I remembered my vow to take what comes to me as far as dating was concerned.  

But was this outside the reasonable parameters? Whatever, I slipped him a piece of paper with my number and ran upstairs to my friend's flat.  I was teased mercilessly when I informed my friends of what just transpired.

He ended up calling me while I was on a business trip in Wisconsin.  I was cowering in my room, as there were tornados touching down all around the hotel that night; sure I was going to die in the Super 8.  We talked for hours, I forgot about the tornados, and scheduled a date for when I returned.

 When he showed up at my apartment to pick me up, I was sure he brought the cab.  I didn't know how I was going to react to it, but I had counseled myself to remain impassive.  I was a real prejudicial jerk.

Turns out, he was a graduate student of wealthy means from Pakistan.  He drove cab to make extra cash so he wouldn't bug his parents for money (and they wouldn't ask him what he was asking for it for).  Tapas, wine, driving around the city at night and a knee buckling kiss later, I was head over heels.

There was a lot against us.  I am a white atheist.  His name evoked my father's anger, as it sounded African American - and my father was the original racist.  He couldn't introduce me to his friends, lest his parents find out. He was Muslim, hardcore Ramadan observing, praying at the mosque Muslim. We promised each other stupid things that went along with our culture differences.  We wouldn't get serious.  We would still see other people (didn't last long). We wouldn't have sex (I'm damn glad we went back on that promise).  We wouldn't fall in love.

On 9/11, I called him frantic.  There was a lot going on as far as protests and mobs storming mosques.  I was worried for him; I knew how stupid people can get.  He stayed inside for a few days, and then ventured out only to be confronted with a lot of that stupidity.  We went shopping at the Niemen Marcus, only to be stared at and followed.  Co-workers came up to me asking when we were breaking up.  My father asked me if he was a terrorist, it was horrible.

We stayed together. We were best friends and loved each other’s company.  We talked of our difference without reservation.  I entertained fantasies of getting married.  He talked of somehow having me meet his parents.  My father got over his idiocy and had dinner with us one night. We were happy.

Then, my father was murdered.   He didn't understand why I was handling all the details of the funeral and my father's estate as I was a woman.  "Your brother should be doing this, your uncles." he said. He couldn’t understand why I wept openly and was frightened all the time.  He didn’t understand the depth of emptiness that was inside me.

 Ramadan started and he disappeared, saying he couldn't see me as I evoked thoughts he shouldn't have during the holy time.  I wasn't connected to reality for a long time and he didn't understand why I was so hurt by everything.  Our relationship broke for a time.  I was distraught, thinking he didn't love me enough.  I felt abandoned and lost. 

Time when by and we patched things up, in a way.  I was dating others, but my heart was softening towards him again. 

He called me one night and couldn't speak.  His father had passed away. I couldn't go to comfort him, as some of his family was at his flat and I was still an unknown part of his life.  He was going back to Pakistan to settle his father's affairs and take care of his mother.  He would come visit me in a few hours.

When he knocked on my door, he was in tears. He whispered "I'm so sorry, I didn't understand.  I'm sorry, love.  I'm sorry. You must hate me.  I didn't know.  I was stupid.  Please forgive me." 

I never hated him and it tore my heart to pieces that he felt he had hurt me on top of the pain of his father's death. I knew that I would never see him again.  I knew he would stay in Pakistan to take care of his family.  I knew it was the last moment we would have together.

"Shush.  I only have love for you.  Please don't hurt because of me. I know how horrible you feel, you will always have me in your heart.  I'm sorry you have to feel this way, that you learned how to feel this way.  Go take care of your family and know that I will always love you."

We e-mailed and spoke on the phone for a time, but it didn't last long. We lost touch two years later.