As a child, I used to play quite often with my neighbor’s son. He was one year older than me and I could tell he liked me because whenever it was time to play any team games, he’d always choose me first. And he’d only share his candy with me. I had game.
Even though I was just 7 and he was 8, my mother already did not like how familiar we were with each other. She used to tell me that boys were bad and that I had to stay away from him. I asked her what he did wrong, what made him bad, but I never got an actual answer. It wasn’t hard to push him away, and a few years later, he moved away altogether.
"Boys are BAD." That’s a broad, heavy, punitive message to give to a daughter. When I think about how romantically stunted I am, I often find myself blaming my mother. It’s all her fault!
I’m old enough now to know that I can’t blame her for everything. She grew up in such a different environment than me. In her native country, fifty years ago, girls were strongly shielded from boys, up until marriage. Oftentimes, a woman did not meet the man she was to marry until the day of the wedding. The girls who strayed, who dated, who exchanged love notes with boys, were looked down upon and often referred to as “fruit that have been plucked too early.” A woman who was steadfast in her morals, who waited, who didn’t entice men, was a virtuous person worthy of love from an equally virtuous man.
In Islam, we believe that God has already determined who you are to marry. Some people think that this means that everyone has a soulmate, that everyone will pair up naturally and perfectly. But marriages aren’t perfect. Sometimes two people are brought together for reasons other than the sort of love people write books about. My mother’s marriage to my father was arranged and unfortunately, less than idyllic. My grandparents set up this marriage because they believed it was an alliance that would strengthen both families’ standing in society. Despite that goal being achieved, the arrangement was a poor one and my parents quickly realized that they were like oil and water.
Romance in the early years soon morphed into ugliness and resentment. My mother had expected a man who would nurture her intelligence, who would seek her advice, who would treat her as a true partner in life. My father had expected a woman who would comfort him endlessly, lavish him with affection, who would remain a beautiful, sweet, and doting wife. For the last 40 years, my parents have led half-lives. They can barely tolerate being with each other and have had separate bedrooms since I was in middle school.
I have often asked them to file for divorce, but never made any headway. Their finances are…complicated and a division of assets would take years and there would be significant loss of face to deal with in their community. Furthermore, my mother strongly believes that having divorced parents would lower my worth, that people would think that I am genetically predisposed to divorce [smh]. And so, my parents will continue to live these half-lives forevermore. Initially, I thought such unhappiness was solely relegated to those in arranged marriages. In the last two years alone, I’ve learned of four couples who married out of love yet decided to get divorced.
What is happening to us? Why are we so bad at choosing the right person for ourselves? My grandmother married my grandfather when she was 14. They had 9 children together. She often tells me to find a man, get married, make babies, and worry about everything else later.
“What is life if you don’t have a man? If you don’t have children? You won't be young forever. Forget about school.”
Meanwhile, my mother gives me the exact opposite message.
“You need to make money. Do you want to ask your husband for money like I have to ask your father? You want to be able to support yourself and your children. You have to be strong and smart or you won’t attract a good man.”
Interestingly, my father gives me a similar message.
“It’s important for you to have a high-paying job. You never want to be dependent on anyone else. I need to know that when I’m dead, you can stand on your own two feet.”
My friends have a completely different message to share.
"You're just not putting yourself out there. You're overthinking this when you should just jump in, get some experience. What are you waiting for?"
And then there are the men of GaG. You too are sending a slew of messages.
“I’m attracted to super feminine girls.”
“She has to be a lady on the street, but a freak in the sheets.”
“I would prefer she stayed at home while I worked.”
“I want my future wife to work too.”
“I don’t want a virgin; they don’t know what to do.”
“She has to be a virgin, I don’t want anyone’s sloppy seconds.”
"I want to be the one to approach, I want to take charge."
"It's 2016. She better approach me."
“Fitness has got to be one of her main priorities.”
“Women with hard bodies? Nasty."
“I don’t want her to make more money than me.”
“I wouldn’t feel emasculated if she was more educated than I am.”
"I just want someone sweet who will take care of me."
"I want someone who challenges me."
When people ask me why I’m single, which they do way too often, I wish I could tell them the truth - I don’t know what I want in a man anymore, nor do I know what kind of woman I want to be or should be.
I find myself reacting to the people around me, continuously shifting along this invisible continuum in response to them, yet unable to return to my original position. The only thing that I never waver on is my belief that relationships are fucking scary.
Opening up to someone and hoping they won’t use your insecurities against you is scary.
Trusting someone to not change into something unrecognizable is scary.
Having faith in your decision to be with that one person forever is scary.
Buying into the shared delusion of love is scary.
Seeing your relationship slowly erode away is scary.
Realizing that, in the end, it was you who changed is scary.
Having to declare your relationship dead is scary.
When people learn that I’ve never been in a relationship before, it shocks them. They think I’m lying or that I'm too picky or that I have daddy issues or that I haven’t met the right guy yet. In reality, I think I’m just trying to ward off the death of love. That which never lived can never die. And so, singledom, while painful at times, has become a permanent fixture in my life. It feels just like home.
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I apologize for the rambling nature of this take. I've had a lot on my mind recently. :x
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