I'm normally adverse to discussing my relationship issues on my blog. There's either too much drama or too little. Plus talking about my dating life can get tricky; people's feelings get hurt. Some day I will write my memoirs on the topic elsewhere. It'll be called "Sitting to the Left of Awkward." I have a knack for getting myself into awkward situations when it comes to dating. I've come to the conclusion that such situations should be embraced.
However, there's one relationship that I feel I need to be discussed openly, mostly because until recently it has never gotten awkward.
This isn't a relationship with a girl. No. This is a much more constant companion. One that gives it all and never takes anything. One that never complains or cancels. One that doesn't fade out when you try and push things to a new level nor freak out when you don't. One that looks good in the morning and great in the evening, with no need of makeup or touching up. One that supports me in my late nights and stands by me when the rest of the world is laughing. I'm speaking, of course, of the Real Thing: Coca-cola.
Good ole Coke has been with me through thick and thin and never failed to come through when it counted. I have savored it, cherished it, and loved it with all my heart. It has picked me up when I felt down and loved me when I felt lonely. As the following collection shows, it has been with me in literally every corner of the globe.
I should be a model for Coke. And no, in no way do I find it pathetic that in all of these pictures it's me and Coke, and not me and "some hot girl with whom I am in a relationship." This is a true love affair that has transcended time and place.
Not that I was addicted. I have taken breaks from Coke and had no noticeable impact on my body. I once stopped drinking soda altogether for 2 months, and kept a six pack of Vanilla Coke under my desk just to prove that I could do it even when it was staring me in the face. I proved two points by doing that: the first being that I could go without, and the second being that the only thing better than an ice cold Coke is an ice cold Coke when you haven't had one in two months.
However, recently I have had to grips with the fact that this is, literally, an incredibly unhealthy relationship. As I get older my metabolism is slowly turning the dial down. This became painfully obvious about ten months ago when I started receiving a strange question, one that I haven't ever heard in my entire life.
"Curtis, have you gained weight?"
The first three times it was sort of humiliating because it was a question that came from attractive females. Nevertheless I sort of found it a little flattering that they would notice. Then, however, I started having other people ask. Fat people. A real wake up call came when a very large Saudi man with whom I had been working said to me after not seeing me for a week, "Curtis, you are looking fat. You've been in Saudi Arabia too long."
All of this was shocking in that I didn't think such comments and questions were allowed. I NEVER ask people if they've put on weight. Taboo. Still, I had to reckon with the fact that it was true. I had in fact put on about 25 pounds in 4 months since I started visiting Saudi Arabia.
This caused a bit of an existential crisis. How could I leave my beloved Coke without betraying all that I stood for? I might as well renounce my citizenship. It would be like cheating on an old lover. Nevertheless, I had to face the music. I had to confront the fact that with all of these pictures of myself drinking Coke, I might indeed become a Coke advertisement, but not of the kind I had originally wanted to be:
So I switched. On April 19, 2010 I became a Diet Coke person.
It was traumatic. I couldn't believe it the first time I heard myself order one. People told me condescendingly that things would work out. "Give it a few weeks, Curtis, and you won't ever want to go back to regular Coke." Sort of like when you go through a break up and people spill out cliches about how there's "someone special out there for you" and other fishes in sea (why would I want a fish anyway?). However, they were wrong. I still maintain that the only thing better than a Coke is a Coke when you've been awhile without.
Now perhaps after 6 months it is premature to pass judgment. They say that the time it takes to get over a relationship is half the time that the relationship lasted, which means I won't be able to truly distance myself from Coke until the year 2024. Still, after 6 months I can only say that I have grown accustomed to the Diet drinks, but it is a cold dispassionate relationship in which there is no love. We stay together because I like the cold fizzy feeling it creates in my mouth, but I feel no loyalty, no passion, no excitement in my stomach when I see the logo. I don't even care which Diet drink it is. To me they're all kind of the same.
I mean, they're ok. The one upside is that they are all equally unsatisfying. Diet Coke, Coke Lite, Coke Zero, even Diet Pepsi (I won't touch the regular stuff). But it's like making out with someone you don't care about in an attempt to mend your broken heart. It's sort of fun while it lasts but ultimately leaves you feeling empty with a funky aftertaste in your mouth.
Truth is, I'm still in love with Coke. Every now and then I go back and pay it a visit. And it's SOOOO good. 
The other night, while up late working, I discovered at the restaurant in my compound in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, tha tthey serve Coke floats. I had to have one. And yes, ironically, that is a really really fat man in the background of this picture: 
And so I struggle to redefine this new relationship. We can't go back to just being friends. We've progressed way beyond that. And even though I have started a new open relationship with its ugly cousins, my heart still lies with regular Coke. So I must declare it publicly.
"Coke, I love you. Even though we are sort of divorced, you will always have my heart."
And off they go:
Because the track is too big to see the majority of the race (there's a 4 km track and an 8 km track, or 2.5 and 5 miles), the video crews in the cars film the race for the excited crowd of spectators. Meanwhile an announcer, who I can only assume is the Dubai version of Marv Albert, narrates the race excitedly. 
Afterwards the owners all jump out of their cars and hurriedly congratulate each other on the results (the most important victory went, to nobody's surprise, to the Crown Prince Sheikh Hamdan). 
The season is almost over for camel racing, but the nice thing about visiting the track is that on almost any morning, you can go see the camels doing their training and really get up close and personal with them. 
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