Beautiful Boys

I wonder, is it just me, or does every girl who meets a great guy immediately start thinking if the possibility of hooking up is in the air? Sometimes keda I feel it’s weird that that’s something that’s always somewhere in my mind.

I just met this great guy. He’s Egyptian, but was raised in the States and is begad almost everything I like in a guy. I met him a while back in another country and we talked a bit. I met him here completely randomly and the first thing I thought when I saw him was “ooh! great guy. Hmm, I wonder if he’s mortabet? (in a relationship).

Obviously he’s not interested because if he was he would have let me know he was here, but ma’lesh. Plenty of camels in the desert.

Non-Egyptian men

Met up with an old friend of mine today who’s back in Egypt for a couple of days.

He’s not Egyptian. Or Arab, even.

He semi-proposed to me once but I acted as if he was joking because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and he never mentioned it again.

His was the cutest, most touching, and heartfelt proposal ever. I almost cried.

Unfortunately though, it could never happen.

I’ve thought about this a lot over the past few years. What would it be like to marry a non-Egyptian?

There’s no denying that I am definitely more myself when I am with non-Egyptians, men and women. I don’t censor my thinking as much, I’m more easygoing, approachable, and funner. The things I think are most important about myself are shared–education, awareness of the world, smartness etc–and appreciated. My accomplishments aren’t diminished because I don’t have a hubby or kids.

A non-Egyptian (especially if non-Arab) is less likely to have the annoying personality quirks I hate in Egyptian guys: possesivness, jealousy, obsession with control, need to feel he is superior etc. Being raised to think women are equal, deserve to have their own life, and aren’t just there to feed your physical and sexual appetities and be incubators is rare in Egyptian men.

Then again, there’s always the religion and culture angle. I cannot and do not want to marry a non-Muslim. My faith is very, very important to me. As as much as I hate certain aspects of my culture, there are some things I love and cannot do without.

Oops, have to run, time for American Idol! Will pontificate more on this subject later.

The Boy is Gone

The Boy is Gone
The Boy is Gone
The Boy is Gone

(To the tune of ‘The Boy is Mine’).

It didn’t work out. On one hand, I’m kind of disappointed, but on the other: phew!

He was a really good guy. On my ‘potential husband’ checklist, he’d had more ticks than any other guy I’ve met.  He was great, and very, very eligible. His family name is instantly recognizzable, and as one of Cairo’s most eligible bachelors, he’d had his pick of women. And he liked me, a lot. I could tell. Unfortunately:

He was 12 years older than I was.
He couldn’t speak English.
He couldn’t use a computer.
He hated traveling (!)
He hated fast food.
He hated restaurants.
He disliked the movies.
He disliked married couples going out together.
He went to sleep at 9pm and woke up at fajr time.
He wanted lots of kids right away.

There’s more, but honestly, that’s more than enough. Before I even learnt all the above, the fact that he hated traveling spoke volumes to me. Hating traveling means you hate anything new or different. Hate new experiences. Do not like to be challenged or in any way discomfited. I’m an Ibn Battuta wannabe. Each reason on its own seems trivial: I mean, can you really dislike someone because they like to eat healthy? But taken altogether showed that we had very different interests.

But he was nice. He sent me a big bunch of flowers…

Oh well. I hope he finds someone that’s a better match for him. We would never have worked out. I am not a woman who would be content sitting at home with a nursery full of kids.

Other than that, this week has been interesting. The Sound and Light show at the pyramids hosted the amazing Turkish Anatolia ballet group, and then Egypt had it’s first comedy rumble. Easter came and with it came a lot of fish and feseekh. Colored eggs are so passe!

Tears

I was sitting in my room today, and suddenly I found myself crying when I thought of the guy–for no reason whatsoever. Admittedly, that’s not a good sign.

So let me try and diagnose the reasons why.

I cried because marriage scares me. Not because of the responsibility, but because I know of so few couple that are genuinely happy together once the bloom has left the rose, so to speak.

I cried because I’ve been single so long, and—as strange as this sounds—I’ve put marriage and love so completely to one side that whenever a semi-real possibility at a relationship appears, I freeze up. I’m so 100% ok with being single and enjoying it, that instead of thinking of the good aspects of marriage, I immediately think of all the things that now I’m not going to be able to do. Of the places I won’t be able to travel. Of how kids will be an anchor that’ll weigh me down. Of how much a man will limit what I do. Of being trapped. And that’s a horrible way to think. A relationship is supposed to add to your life, not take away.

But, like I read in a Cracked article once, “time spent single is a lot like time spent in the bathroom. It’s the most natural thing in the world, until you’re there just a moment too long. But once you hit that point, there’s no turning back. People start to wonder what’s wrong with you.”

Marriage is inevitable. Not only because my society expects in of me, but because I want to get married. I want to leave my father’s house, set up house on my own, be in a relationship, make lurve, and have babies.

I cried because by seriously considering this guy as my future hubby, I have to give up the dream honed by years of reading historical fiction: brooding, gorgeous, etc. I’m mature enough and old enough to know how ridiculous that sounds, but that’s there.

And, on a more realistic level, it means I have to give up my idea of a perfect man, because I know he doesn’t exist. He can’t. This is the dunya, the world, not paradise.

I cried because I’m considering a man who is a decade my senior and that means I have to give up a lot of things with no guarantee that he’s worth it.

Sorry for getting all heavy on you there. I’m not usually at all emo, but today was a thinking day. And hey, it’s not like I’m getting married today. I’ll get to know the guy. I like, we marry. I dislike, I dump him and next!

The Guy

I met a guy yesterday.

A really good, interesting guy. Not handsome, but not ugly. Religious but not overly so, smart, hardworking, very successful, loves his family, loves his country, helps out in the community, masculine, and didn’t seem intimidated by me. And as gold-diggery as this sounds, he’s also of a really good family–both social class and financial wise.

But here’s the deal: He’s 12 years older than I am. More than a decade.

That means he’s mature, which is good because I find most guys my age child-like. He’s actually one of the very few guys I’ve met (who aren’t my father’s generation) who I actually felt impressed by. Being in his 30’s means he’s serious about settling down, and isn’t just looking for a relationship.

But even though he keeps reiterating that age is nothing but a number, that he feels young at heart, it’s still scary. When I’m 28, he’ll be 40. That’s crazy.

A decade older means he knows exactly what he wants from his life. He already has everything planned out and I’m going to be slotted into his life. He won’t be up for trying new things, because he knows by now what he likes. I’m still in an exploring phase of life. He wants to settle down and have a bushel of kids. I want to travel, roam the world, try new things, be spontaneous. I’m extremely active in my life, and he seems to be the kind that likes to stay home with ‘the family.’ Will he have the energy to keep up with me?

Plus, his age isn’t as big a deal as the fact that I’m afraid he might come from a different generation. There are some people who are old, but act quite young. And vice versa. But even though he says he feels he’s’ young, I got the feeling that he was someone who is set in his ways and doesn’t like to try new things. How?

With the scariest facts of all: He can’t use a computer, and he barely speaks English.

Now, I know that makes me sound like the biggest snob in the world. But I’m afraid that those two facts are indicative of greater things. People in their 30’s are born in a time before a lot of major changes that happened in Egypt (ex internet, English, women working, etc) They had two options: either to stick with their parent’s generation or adapt and go with the flow. But he decided not to.

And if you’re not willing to learn new things, then are you really set in the past? How can you not know how to use a computer? My mother knows how to use one. How can you not read news online, read blogs, facebook, digg, anything? How can you not speak English? It’s almost a necessity in the world today. My education is one of the things that make me so different from other Egyptian women my age. And it’s something he didn’t get. He graduated from a so-so college.

So I’m afraid his age and lack of English skills will put us on different levels, and not only won’t he get cultural references, but depending on his personality it might really piss him off when I speak English. And I speak a lot of English–my English is, sadly, better than my Arabic. There’s already going to be a disconnect in our tastes because of the age difference, and it’s going to be made worse by the English barrier. He comes from a different background, went to completely different schools. I’m afraid that his upbringing is the one I hate: that makes boys into men, but into oriental, ‘share’y‘ (eastern) men who are da’a adeema (old fashioned). The kind who doesn’t think his ‘woman’ should be driving alone late, staying out past 10. But all this is pure speculation, of course. I don’t even know him yet. All this I got from a two hour conversation.

But let me admit something: he intimidates me somewhat.

Which is something not a lot of men can do. He’s just so sure of himself. The phrase in Arabic is ‘maly markazo,’ fulfilling his position. Something in me tells me that this is not a man I can control. This is a man who is used to being in control, getting his own way, and doing what he likes. And he’s never been married so I’m guessing he’s never had to compromise. Rather than worrying about whether he’ll keep up with me, I’m actually asking myself the question: will he ‘allow’ me do the stuff I do? I casually mentioned that I’ve traveled quite often on my own and he said my dad must be amazing to let me travel ‘alone.’ Plus, the sad thing is, even if he does ‘allow’ me to work, have my own life, etc, he doesn’t seem like the kind who would support and appreciate a woman working. He seems like he’d prefer a woman to stay at home, and would tolerate her working.

But the question is: can you have someone who knows exactly what he wants in this life, who’s mature and confident and successful, who doesn‘t have a very strong character? I think success and passivity are mutually exclusive characteristics.

I’m scared because I have a very strong character. I don’t submit and I would rather stay single for ever than marry someone who is interested in ‘controlling me,’ jealous, possessive, old-fashioned, and dictator-like. But I also hate wishy-washy guys. Guys who are content to take the back seat and let the woman do everything. I was in a relationship like that before and I thought I loved it in the beginning but then a couple of months later I couldn’t stand his indecisiveness and lack of forward-thinking.

I’ve decided that this guy has enough potential to see again. Besm Allah.

Valentine crap…

El falantine

As a bitter old spinster, this post should be full of rants about the consumerism of today, how Egyptians have gone crazy, how I hate the traffic on this day, how I really don’t care that I’m alone as usual etc etc.

But honestly, I couldn’t care less. The weather today was gorgeous so I ’seized’ the opportunity to go swimming, and then went for lunch at Kebabgy, one of my favorite Nile locations in Cairo.

Only sour point of the day: going to the gym and having the guy behind the counter give me a flower. Obviously the gym feels sorry for the lonely people who come to the gym on Valentine’s day.

Or falantine, as the case may be.

Why I’m not Married

Ah, the post I’ve been promising for weeks. Well, here goes nothing. Here’s my list of reasons, organized more or less in order of importance.

I’m not married because:

In Egypt, marriage is a one-shot thing.
Unfortunate, but true. Once married, Egyptian women usually become totally dependent on their husbands. The husbands then either resent their wives for ‘taking and taking’ or milk them for all they’re worth (i.e. I buy everything so I can do what I want). And if said husband turns out to be a complete ass a couple of years down the line, they women are stuck because of course no one believes in contraception and they have two kids. Suck it up.

And even if they don’t have kids, marriage is such a hassle–so much is invested into it (time, effort, family involvement, money), that it’s really annoying to do more than once.

Plus, a divorced Egyptian woman = leper. Good luck on ever getting married again, unless it’s to a penniless dude or a guy 20 years your senior.

Understandably, I’m very picky.
Really not something I want to do more than once. I’m not settling. Not at all. From what I’ve seen, marriage isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be so why should I settle? And so far, no guy I’ve met/ known has measured up to my expectations, which (sad as it is to admit) I’ve written on an A4 piece of paper torn from a notebook many years ago. In a nutshell, the guy I’m looking for is: religious in the best way possible, oklooking, smart, well-educated, good family, similar social background, loves new experiences/ travel, ambitious, loves his job, calm, good relationship with his family, optimistic outlook on life, comfortable with who he is.

Window Dressing is very important.
It’s just the way things are. In Egypt, you “marry a family, not a spouse,” and the family helps a lot in getting the couple started in their life. That means the families have to be compatible too: education, social background etc. Which narrows down the playing field a lot, considering my family is considered one of the ‘elites.’ (Whether we are or not is another story).

I’m a millionaire.
As in me personally, and not just my family. Sure, it’s my dad’s money, but it’s all in my name, personal account, money he can’t touch etc. Something I have not shared with anyone outside of my immediate family, not even my closest friends. But not something you can hide from a spouse, and unless he’s one of a kind, woman having more money than her hubby tends to irritate a lot of men.

But, I’m actually religious.
And it’s actually very very very hard to find someone who shares my social background (that doesn’t even mean finance-wise, just a guy who’s been to the same schools/ family “name” etc) and isn’t a wannabe western who is basically a spoiled boy. Lots of money translates as BMWs at 16, pimps and hos parties, label whore, etc. As an adult, that translates into wanting arm candy, judging women based on their looks, their dress etc. It may be surprising to hear, but rich Egyptian men don’t usually want to marry veiled women.

At the same time, religion for me doesn’t mean pray, fast, etc. That’s just the first level. Spirituality and character is way more important. If he doesn’t know what tazkeya is, then I’m definitely not interested.

Ze Egybitian Man.
Read the post. ‘Nuff said. A lot of Egyptian men are possessive, spoiled, still believe a woman’s place is barefoot in the kitchen, and feel they have to cut you down to size. And lel asaf (unfortunately), with my family, I’d probably be disowned if I brought home a non-Egyptian.

I’ve accomplished a lot.
Not to boast or anything, but I’ve accomplished a lot in my short life thus far, and by that I don’t just mean my degrees. A PhD before I’m 30 isn’t impossible, but then I might as well superglue my butt to the shelf.

And I am very very ambitious and always want to try new things.

I’ve accomplished a lot for a Muslim Egyptian woman. I’ve traveled and lived abroad, and I’ve been exposed to the world at large. Unfortunately, a lot of Egyptian men have internalized the belief that they must, must, must be better than the woman. They must be in control and they must be better than her. Which means I know less than half a dozen (Egyptian) men in my age group who have accomplished more than I have.

Apparently, I’m intimidating and unapproachable.
Clear by the number of honesty box messages I’ve received (“I liked you but didn’t have the guts to tell you,” “I wish I could kiss you” etc) compared to the number of guys who have approached me and told me they liked me. Self confidence when you have a lot to back it up is sadly a turn off. I can be all delicate and coy, but that’s not really me.

I’m not easily impressed.
The things that impress me are not so present in Egyptians in general. Example: reading for the purpose of intellectual growth. I have my own library at home, which once upon a time used to be a dressing room. That’s right. I squished my clothes into a small wardrobe to make space for my books. Stuff like that. To impress me, a guy has got to work hard, and he can’t pull the wool over my eyes.

I lead my own life.
That means I work, have my own funds, have my friends and basically expect to have a life outside of my spouse. Seems like a little thing to ask but you’d be surprised how many Egyptian men expect your life to revolve around theirs. I’m pretty much a woman who doesn’t really ‘need’ protection/ help.

My weight.
My grandma would have you believe this is number one, but I really don’t think so.

My thinking of marriage is not 100% traditional
For example, I don’t want to have kids right away. Maybe two, three, or even four years down the line.

Basically, I’m not a normal Egybitian woman and I haven’t found the right guy for me.

7ad 3ando 3arees? (Anyone have a groom to spare?)

Ze Egybitian Woman

I leave you today with this brilliant post by Ghawayesh, as a prelude to my two upcoming posts: Why I’m not married and What I’m looking for.

Ze Egybtian Woman

Women, any women, or even men for that matter, are a reflection of their culture in everything they do.

So let’s see what our culture (generally speaking) dictates us and how we react to it accordingly. (Please bear in mind that the different classes see things in variable degrees):

*Since childhood we can only play with dolls and kitchen appliances. Results: We are programmed to realize that we should be good house-keepers and baby carers. I bought my son a mini-washing machine, mini-vacuum cleaner, mini-iron and ironing board, mini-kitchen, and a baby doll (and they are all among his favorite toys), and when my (Egypt-based and Egypt-minded) sister saw that, she was stunned, and said: “Your son will become a homo”.

*As we grow up, we constantly hear: “You’re a girl, you can’t do that. Only boys can do that”. “That” can be anything adventurous; demanding physical strength; technical thinking or action; or freedom of movement. Result: We are cripples! We don’t sport, we stand helpless if the kitchen sink is clogged, or the car breaks down, or the computer crashes. Hey! We are women and we need a man to save us, right? Travelling alone abroad is still a taboo to most of us (Things are changing now though, thumbs up).

My sister was once at work and her boss told her: “You are one of my best employees, you’re good enough to be a man! I think you should have your post-graduate degree abroad. But you won’t go that far to live and travel alone like some women of nowadays do, would you? *said while he’s rolling his eyes*. Wait until you marry maybe your husband will take you abroad”. He didn’t know of course that this very young woman he was talking to takes a role model in her sisters and her mother who did exactly what he finds so offensive.

*A girl’s main goal in life should be to hunt down a man. No matter how high we reach, we are *nothing* without a man. From the moment puberty hits us in the butt, the rat-race starts. And in order to get one hooked, we have to be the perfect candidates.

Now the question is, who’s the perfect candidate?

The more female the better. Okay how do I do that?

• Walk like a woman. Result: We walk “gluteously”. I think you get my point. Wearing high pointed heels all day. Get bunions, calluses, or claw-toes.. Who cares?
• Talk like a woman. Result: We have two voices, one for home (the natural go33eerah), and one for outside, which is soft, harmonious, and more weasel-like.
• Act like a woman. Results:

1. If your car broke down, wait helplessly next to it and have the fragile look on your face until your hero emerges out of the nearest-by balla3ah (sewage hole).
2. Don’t be too clever. You can’t be more clever than the guy. Pretend not to know anything about politics or science. You don’t know any swear words/slang or anything about sex.
3. Sell/present yourself well. Looks are mostly what matters. We have an obsession with the exterior.

Now who do you want to end up with? A conservative man who “knows God”? Well sister, then you gotta wear a higab/khimar/niqab/3abaya/melaya, no make-up or perfume, say nothing but God said and the prophet said, walk like an introvert and have an aura of a little scared mouse, hang around the religious circles and be best friends with people who seem to have eligible brothers or sons who happen to have contracts in KSA.

Now if you want a progressive, open-minded, Western-like dude, okay then baby, be my guest to look as European (and nowadays replace European with Lebanese) as you can. That of course becomes a reflection of what we see in the media. Only few of us know how European women are really like and be really like them (In a good way I mean, as in practical, hard-working, no fashion-freaks etc..). Okay what do I need for this?

From top to toe: Blond hairs (bleach), white skin (make-up), a good body (Do a *Dyt*, pronounced the Egyptian way), but sorry, the boobs and the ass stay, guys like that, baby! Go to the hairdresser at least once a week. You can’t let anyone know you have curly frizzy hair; what! You want to become an old-maid? And don’t forget to get your 20 nails “did” while you’re there. Don’t forget to use loads of English and French into your Arabic, and a bonus is to use words like “mahdooma”(=digested, a Lebanese word which actually means nice!). Breaking News: The Lebanese have fake noses, boobs, lips and hips. Papa can buy you some too, if you wish. Oh and one more thing, your grandma is Turkish.

*You’re a virgin. You will always be a friggin’ virgin. Forget all the Orfis and zombies you’ve been through (or better said, have been through you). YOU ARE A VIRGIN. Have been pregnant with 6 bastards and went to Dr. Amr of Heliopolis for some D&C and sewing up? Forget that, nothing happened. Y O U- A R E -A- V I R G I N! Mashi ya kotta?!

*I was once in a wedding of people I didn’t know too well, and as always I was observing. I could tell who’s single and who’s married. The married ones looked like trucks, and the single ones were still intact. The married ones moved in space like cookie monsters and talked like Stewies, and were beeloghghoo (engulfing) the food like there was no hope for a repeat, while the single ones were picking the food with the tip of their forks and spending a minute or two chewing on each tiny-winy bite. Hey! Maybe the man of their dreams, his mother, sister, SIL, or aunt is watching. Always be ready!

*The men are always right. If you get harassed or abused; shut up. It was your fault anyway. Why go out at night? Oh! You’re a nurse and had a nightshift? Why did you become nurse?! To go out at night and be touched up by cute doctors, I bet! Why wear what you were wearing? Oh! You were wearing the veil? But the police “cross-examination” proves you had a hot black bra on. Why a hot black bra, of all bras, ya sharmoota? See? You’re just asking for it!

*Now that there’s someone finally proposing: Demand a butt-load of money for shabka and mahr. Make him feel you’re worth millions. It will make him value you more. While actually deep down you can’t believe that someone finally got trapped into marrying you, but hey, he is not supposed to know that you were a wo-man with a plan, and that your tricks finally worked. Et2aly! (literally translated: Be heavy!!)

Now that you’ve finally gotten married:

*You know nothing about sex (I know you do, but do as if). Never ask for it, never say what you want, never show him the way to your clitoris (if it is still alive and budding), or else he will think you’re experienced. Want to lose your King Kong, baby? Go a head then and enjoy sex and make him feel suspicious! You deserve all what you get then . I know sex feels like a frontal collision on Cairo-Alexandria Road; I know you have chronic pain and discomfort because of it; and I know you are often forced to do it, but hey, shut up and open those lovelies/fuglies for the master of disaster approaching in maximum speed.

*You’re married! Hurraaaayyyy! You’re a winner! Next step: DO NOT by any chance let go of him. Men are natural cheaters. Do not lose sight of him. Do not let him talk to other women. Tell the kids to spy on him for you. Even if you can’t afford food. GET HIM A MOBILE! Then you know where he is all day. Stalk the testosterone out of him. Call him every other hour and ask him where he is and what he’s doing. I know you’re busy with the kids and the house, and you haven’t noticed the miserable shape you’re in, but as long as you got him the kids, time for the roles to turn hun.

IT’S PAY BACK TIME.. MOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

He won’t leave you! You have kids with him! Now baby, have the morning, midday and evening fight as you wish. Nakkedy (cause annoyance and trouble) as you like. Remember, you are the mother of his kids, and he will always be weak for that.

Insult his manhood, his brains, his miserable income, his family, throw stilettos at him at the lobby of Omar Effendi, JUST DO IT baby and your mother is totally behind you!

And at the end of the day, receive a good beating just to recap on who the real boss is, and to bring the balance back into the relationship, sealed with a fcuk.

Repeat the cycle if you’re a good girl, or break free like my mommy and me.

Sincerely,
Ghawayesh

Mr Darcy

I watched Lost in Austen today. Oh, Darcy.

Yes, how cliche. I am a girl who pines for her Mr. Darcy. Sort of.

So Lost in Austen embodies every woman’s dream: a modern day girl gets to travel to Darcy’s time and take the place of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. True, 100% escapism.

Truth is, I’m nostalgic for an age I didn’t even live in. Where chivalry was still alive.

But can we ask to be equals and still demand chivalry? A classic case of wanting our cake and eating it too?

Thank God I go back to work tomorrow. Get my head out of the fluffy clouds and back into my cubicle.

.

I went to a sporting club today with friends. Actually played basketball. Will wonders never cease?