I never wanted you in my life. You looked so fake on Instagram. Your tan was too tan, your muscles too perfect. You looked like a flirt, maybe a summer affair. I was looking for something more serious.

Of course, I watched you. Couldn’t take my eyes off your beauty, your sparkle, your exciting life. But I always thought you were not right for me. You were no British gentleman. No elegant Parisian homme d’affaires. You seemed so young and I felt so old.

I saw you party until late at night. You seemed to be loud. Superficial. Not stable at all. “And I think he’s Muslim”, people would whisper at me. “Don’t go there, you will lose your rights.” Of course, people talk. And they talk a lot. I simply didn’t know you back then. You scared me. And I just had a child.

Now that I am standing in front of you, that you’re hugging me with your big, strong arms, I tell you I am sorry. How could I even judge you back then?

You are a romantic. An artist. A family man.
You have so much to tell. To show me. You amaze me every day.

You care for my kids. You love them as if they were your own. You play with them. You build sand castles. And run around in parks. I watch you. And you make me smile.

I love how you look forward and never look back. How you focus on the positives in life. And build the future every day.

I love how you make me feel safe, how you care for us. And make me want to explore you even more.

Above all, I love your open mind. How languages mingle in your living room. How they make your home look colourful and bright.

Of course, you are not perfect. Nobody is. There are days when you make me cry. There are days when we are having a fight.

When I feel lonely.

I also know that, one day, I will leave you. The unstable one might be me after all. The one who’s not ready to settle down…

But, my dear Dubai, for now I am here.
And you are pretty perfect to me.