Proposal #1

Bismillah ir Rahman ir Raheem.

Assalam alaikum wr wb.

So I've had my first full-scale proposal recently. My second proposal altogether, but the first one that I spent a decent amount of time judging.

We met the family in the food court of Dubai Festival City. The young lady, my father's friend's niece was the sister-in-law of the guy I was proposed to. I sat next to her and tried to start a fairly normal conversation. It was hard. Very hard. She ultimately said, "I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore" and fixed me with a flinty stare. "Would you be willing to leave Dubai?" I said that I've lived outside and I've quite enjoyed it, so I see no issues in adapting to a new place. I would actually LOVE to leave Dubai, but I thought that information could wait for another convo. Then she asked me if I worked long hours. Bit blunt that, innit?

I said, no, normal timings, 9-6, like the rest of the planet. And that was the extent of her interrogation.

At first she seemed nice enough. She was quite cute and a little pregnant – there's something about being around children that softens me up like an onion in butter. I've always wanted an older sister. But then she turned cold and judgmental. I especially didn't like it when she said her family wondered if we were Muslim because of our rather unorthodox last name. And it ticked me off something proper when his brother took my father aside and spoke to him about me. When I'm standing right in front of him, ready to initiate a dialogue. What was the point of me being there? My parents could have simply carried a framed picture of me.

And oh, how my mother just drove me around the twist about my appearance. And she still does. She didn't really care before proposals started coming in about how "fair" I was; I used to spend hours in the heat of the afternoon working. But now she wants me to carry an umbrella every time I go out in the sun.

Oh and the gentleman himself. Heaven help me, I did not know God made men quite so despicable. And thank God, otherwise, I might have chosen lesbianism a long time ago.

He and I spent about 2 and a half hours in total chatting on MSN. I was going to an Islamic lecture in the evening, so I told him I wouldn't be free after 7. He asked quite abrasively, "what are you upto at that time??" My first reaction was, "None of your Goddamn business, bi-atch!" But I simply replied with the truth and asked, "What do you do after work?" He said, "I go to the gym if I'm in the mood." Okay and otherwise what does he do? He didn't have the foresight or the inclination to give me that information. I've already wasted some of the best years of my life with one lazy ignorant lump of excrement. Not again.

And well, a few days ago, in an act of unmitigated masochism, I chatted with him on MSN for two hours.

He began the conversation by showing absolutely no interest in my interests. I asked after his – which apparently was sport.
He asked, "So you're into books and movies?"
I said, "Yes, I am – very much." If he had questioned further, he'd have found out that I'm a producer as well as a consumer of those art-forms.
But he replied, "So you're no different from others." Other what, pray tell? "Other girls"

Way to make a girl feel special, dude.

The conversation wore on. For some reason, he interrogated me about segregation in schools here – I wish I knew why. The man thinks in mysterious ways.

I perked up a little when he mentioned he liked travel and adventure. I like travel too. He said that he had skydived before and that it was awesome. I waited for him to give me more details but honestly, I felt like I had been pulling teeth with this man all afternoon and I was tired. Plus, I was a little anxious that I was going to miss Asr so I wanted to wrap this up.

But here comes the kicker. He asked me to show him a picture of me without my headscarf.

Not politely either. Like someone yelling at a stripper.

"Oi. It's k when it's for a proposal."
Oi? Oi?? Is that how they talk to a woman where you come from? Not charming.

In a way, I'm happy because I now have more than concrete proof that this is not the right one. My parents wouldn't have been happy with simply a "gut feeling" – which I've learnt to trust this past year - so I'm glad.

But honestly, what a nightmare. Such a rude demanding critical jerk, I've never met in my life. Does he honestly think he's God's gift to women that he can get away with "Oi! Show us your hair!"?

I've been wondering lately why it is that I've always shot myself in the foot. Why I assume that I'm not going to get what I want and deserve? It's been true only a few times.

It's often wondrous how my mother can make me laugh and make me cry. During the pre-proposal debacle, I was somewhat apprehensive about talking to him on the phone. She screamed at me over the phone rubbing my inadequacies in my face. "You used to be an open friendly girl." I still am, woman, I just don't want to be anyone's monkey and smile and laugh all the time. I especially hate, HATE, HATE, HATE it when my dad says that I should smile in the mornings. No. I am not an ornament for anyone's pleasure. No!!

She even rubbed my ex in my face. "You go find one by yourself, " she yelled. "That fellow was a nitwit. He couldn't even speak proper English." Lord, I forgave him all of the sins in the world because I loved him or at least I told myself I did. When all I felt was an affection, an abiding affection which is nothing special. I have felt that way and will feel that way many times again for friends of varying closeness.

My parents don't follow the directives of Dr. G. They criticise me every chance they get and they don't encourage me or acknowledge any of my successes. So it falls to me to make myself feel good about certain things. It's a lonely road, but there doesn't seem to be any other options.

Wassalam and Fee Amanillah,
Zed