Hey Hey Hey

I once knew a girl who had nothing. She lived in a big villa in Jumeirah, her dad was employed by one of the top local companies in the UAE, and her garage housed two sports cars and a luxury salon. With her Oriental good looks, she was popular in high school, and she always walked the hallways surrounded by a flock of equally attractive girlfriends. She didn’t do particularly well in her studies, but the teachers adored her enough to make sure she got by.

But she thought nothing of her house, or the cars that were parked downstairs. She loved her dad, but he was the kind who easily found faults in everyone, including his own children. She knew she was pretty, but she never thought herself beautiful, and always frowned at the contemptuous reflection she saw in the mirror. She disliked the girls she hung out with, but stayed their friend for lack of anyone better.

She had nothing going for her. But then she met me.

Entranced by her marble skin and long black geisha hair, I thought her to be the best thing I ever had. In exchange for her affection, I would listen to all the mundane things she’d been wanting to share with someone for a long time, and even went as far as fulfilling her petty and amusing requests. Like eat more vegetables, and change my brand of shoes, and stop having a cigarette as soon as I wake up in the morning. And why not? In return, I had someone to pour on my teenage lust, and the guys commended my having caught one of the school’s most liked girls.

But it got worse.

Devoid of any other passion in her life, I became her only source of gratification. The one person to whom she really mattered. By then, my having foolishly indulged her previous whims led her to believe she could turn me into the soul mate she’d always dreamt of. Someone who shared her philosophy of life, who aspired to the same things she did, and lived a life that accommodated her taste – and worse – was approved by her overbearing parents.

After a tormenting two-month relationship, I finally had enough.

I went to her house and told her it was over. I said I liked being with her, but I hated being hers. Of course she cried. And I expected it. But I couldn’t do more (or less), so had to leave her weeping on the living room couch.

Her dad came in the door just as I was leaving. He saw his daughter crying, then turned to me, and walked on, carrying a smug expression that said ‘I knew he was no good’.

‘Hey Hey Hey’ is about being happy with who you are. It’s about not wanting to change, for the good of others or even yourself. After all, we’re all bastards, but for most of us, there’s no one else we’d rather be.