{"id":11260,"date":"2023-07-18T12:00:35","date_gmt":"2023-07-18T12:00:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/?p=11260"},"modified":"2025-04-12T17:06:51","modified_gmt":"2025-04-12T14:06:51","slug":"memoirs-of-a-naughty-lebanese-woman","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/memoirs-of-a-naughty-lebanese-woman\/","title":{"rendered":"Memoirs of a Naughty Lebanese Woman"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Note from the team: In a society where sex and pleasure are taboo, many things are left unsaid. In this column, Sin Dee describes what many in this society have experienced: hushed moments, fast heartbeats, and rising adrenaline. Unlike any other content we have put out, this column dares to speak the unspoken.\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

If I was going to live until 90, what happened on that day guaranteed a shortened lifespan by five years, at least.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Yet, it was worth it. I loved it. I loved the rush. Adrenaline pumping through my veins. My heartbeat felt like I sprinted a marathon. Aaaaa, the pleasure!\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mr. X and I were alone at home. Finally, some time alone, in a city where holding guns is less of a sin than sex between lovers. Finally, some time alone, at home – my home, where any kind of intimacy without a wedding ring on my finger is the ultimate sin. It is as sinful as the sins of all American presidents combined. Jesus himself was excused for his inability of holding my sins, for they are too many.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Finally, we were alone in a bed, my bed. Not in the back of the car, nor on the roof of my building, nor behind the trees in the garden, nor the staircase or the elevator, nor the amphitheater. We had the luxury of sleeping on clean sheets and cuddling under a warm blanket.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Finally, we were alone naked. I wasn\u2019t wearing a skirt for its ease of access. I didn\u2019t need to create a hole in my tights. I didn\u2019t droop to reach his skin. We were fully undressed, fully accessible.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Finally, we could be as loud as we wanted. He didn\u2019t have to cover my mouth to mute my moans. We could redeem all of our unpronounced gratifications.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Finally, we did enjoy each other\u2026 to the bones. As all my senses were magnified, as well as some body parts, I heard a key roughly penetrating the keyhole of the main door of my house.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mother is home, instead of being at work, where she is supposed to be, she is home!<\/p>\n

I will pause the story here and review some facts:<\/p>\n

– I am naked.<\/p>\n

– I have a naked man in my bed.<\/p>\n

– My mother is at the door.\u00a0<\/p>\n

– Jesus can\u2019t hold my sins.\u00a0<\/p>\n

– I am too young to die.\u00a0<\/p>\n

– My mother is too young to have a heart attack.\u00a0<\/p>\n

– My guardian angel has committed suicide.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Now the rest of my story happened in less than ten minutes, yet back then, it felt like an eternity.<\/p>\n

Fast, Mr. X to the wardrobe. My heart is beating a thousand beats a second, I put whatever I find on the upper bed on me and go to welcome my mother.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mmm what is she doing at home right now? She still has two hours of work! Is she here to eat? No, she would have eaten outside? Maybe she needs to change her shoes! Or maybe change her whole outfit?\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you breathing like that?\u201d She asks.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought you were my father, and I was cleaning my room wearing very little clothes. You surprised me!\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

Good job, great answer. Oh my goodness, she will probably go pick something from my wardrobe. Oh my goodness, I hope she won\u2019t pick Mr. X<\/i>.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I imagined Mr. X and I sleeping on a soft surface covered with a soft, clean white sheet, and my parents throwing dirt on us with a shovel\u2026 mmm, not ready for that yet<\/i>. Fast go remove Mr. X from the wardrobe<\/i>, I thought to myself. I ran to my room, took him out of the closet, pushed him to the corner and threw a bunch of clothes and blankets on top of him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cDon\u2019t breathe or you will die,\u201d I tell him fiercely.<\/p>\n

\u00a0The moment that he became well covered, she entered my room.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have anything that suits these pants?\u201d mother asks.\u00a0<\/p>\n

She opens the closet, skims through my shirts, picks one, and goes looking for matching shoes in her room.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Oh my goodness, she won’t find the desired color in her collection. She will come back to check my shoes!! Oh, the shoes are in the corner where Mr. X is imitating death. Fast, fast, fast, <\/i>I kick him, take the blanket off, push him to the door leading to a tiny storage room behind the bed (I know, horrible room design).\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cShhhhhh.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She comes back looking for the shoes in the corner, finds what she wants, and goes back to her room.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Now, I need to keep her far from the kitchen because the kitchen is linked to the storage room behind my bed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0I called my friend. \u201cCome over, NOW, it is an emergency\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cCOME NOW,\u201d I whisper-scream before hanging up.<\/p>\n

\u00a0I take a deep breath, the deepest of all deep breaths, and pray for a miracle.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Suddenly, the doorbell rings.\u00a0<\/p>\n

My neighbor, my lovely neighbor, my friend in need, my friend indeed is at the door. I tell her right away that Mr. X is hiding there, and we go stand in the kitchen pretending that we are doing something useful.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cI am heading back to work. I\u2019m already late. Are you going to be home when your sister is back?\u201d mother shouts as she walks out the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, YES I will be here.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

YES, YES, YES, WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS,\u00a0<\/p>\n

WE are the champions my friend and we\u2019ll keep on fighting till the end,\u00a0<\/p>\n

We are the champions\u00a0<\/p>\n

We are the champions\u00a0<\/p>\n

Nooooo\u2026 time for loooooooSERS\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘CAUSE WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS<\/p>\n

OF THE WORLD!<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

AAAAA, I wanted to scream.<\/p>\n

All I wanted to do was to scream in satisfaction. Oh my god the rush! I loved the rush. Adrenaline pumping through my veins. My heartbeat is sprinting a marathon.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

AAAAA, aaaaa, the ultimate pleasure!<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Note from the team: In a society where sex and pleasure are taboo, many things are left unsaid. In this column, Sin Dee describes what many in this society have experienced: hushed moments, fast heartbeats, and rising adrenaline. Unlike any other content we have put out, this column dares to speak the unspoken.\u00a0 If I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":11271,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_eb_attr":"","_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[242,286],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11260","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-242","category-diaries-of-a-naughty-arab-woman"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/al-rawiya.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/07\/WhatsApp-Image-2023-07-17-at-16.03.34.jpeg?fit=1600%2C1023&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11260","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11260"}],"version-history":[{"count":26,"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11260\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16509,"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11260\/revisions\/16509"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/11271"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11260"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11260"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/al-rawiya.com\/ar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11260"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}