High Maintenance?

Let's give the boys a break. Gloat in the moment as I begin a post about the females.

I never had a sister and I never had the desire for one. Living with two brothers felt perfectly fine for me and I was glad with everything I had. When I watched the way many sisters interacted throughout their years, I didn't see the desperate attraction for one. There was intense rivalry, jealousy beyond belief, hidden secrets and much more. It made me wonder if my personality would have been different and I realized that, along with life, definitely would have been. A lot of girls are too high maintenance these days, but I've found that today the phrase "high maintenance" has become misconstrued. It's applied to anyone who simply likes to put the perfect touch on all that they do, even if it affects no one around them.

That is NOT high maintenance, but the following is:

I've heard/met men that had the hardest time finding their life partners because of the ridiculously high requests the women and/or their families were demanding. Three-month salary wedding rings. Five-thousand square footage houses from a 20-something-year-old young man. The same man who had to most definitely be a doctor, lawyer or engineer. When he couldn't afford it and was heartbroken, I wondered why. Why would he want to be married to someone so shallow with their material requests? One piece of advice I heard was whatever you don't like before marriage, only gets worse after marriage. Imagine what more those women and/or their families would have put them through later on?

That demanding, obsessive and shallow attitude is more than annoying. It's obnoxious from both males and females. It's just a painful buildup that will surely lead to an unwanted explosion in the end. Unfortunately however, it seems that these nags tend to come more often from women than from men, because often men don't notice the details. I guess sometimes that can be relaxing. What is most likely the best solution is balancing out between the two. Finding the middle ground between caring way too much and not caring at all.

Here's a situation I've seen numerous times and it frustrates me before it frustrates the men. The woman is at home all day with the kids, and I know what she's gone through, about to pull her hair out from the stress at home, and so the moment the husband comes home she unloads...everything. I've also seen the opposite scenario: the husband comes home and the wife's exhausted from her day (be it at home or from work) and he's instantly demanding to be fed or pampered like a sultan.

Everybody needs to calm down. I have implemented this rule with my family because I know that every single human desires to walk into his/her home and just take five to ten minutes to themselves to just unwind in peace. Since in the Arab culture, women aren't out and about working but more often at home, this is usually a rule I try to encourage more women to try.

Men (and women) are exhausted from their days, but if you've been at home, even if stressed and exhausted from the day's toll, it's a lot different to be out and just thirsty for the taste and scent of your own home.

I was once sitting and talking with a couple. The husband, a kind man who actually loves her very much (a rare species these days), begins discussing a particular lecture we all recently attended and suddenly the peaceful calm begins to resemble the calm before the storm. His wife begins badgering him about his opinion and it goes back and forth for a few minutes and the wife seems utterly oblivious to the fact that he was over that petty point, so she didn't stop. He tolerated it for the first few minutes before his voice started to rise and my fear started to rise with it as well.

With another couple I visited, I saw a slightly pushy wife, who tried to control her husband. Now when I say control, I don't mean major crazy mind control, but things like, "Honey, eat now." "Baby, go do this now." I got annoyed after the first 30 minutes when I heard 460,967 different orders she gave him. Why is that the super polite amazing guys have wives that I just want to strangle? Then, on the other hand, the really sweet girl that knows how to treat her husband properly ends up with a guy who cannot appreciate or love her?

Once upon a time a friend of mine tried to set me up with a guy and the reason she supported this setup was because, "He is so slow and takes his time to do everything just like you. You know, high maintenance." Besides the backhanded compliment she slapped me with, I wondered why being an individual who takes her time to do things well means being high maintenance, unlike her, who constantly dictated every single human being's life around her?

I met the guy and he was slow, and by slow, I mean S-L-O-W. Boring, lazy, uninteresting and incapable of making any efforts or initiatives. I left the night realizing how misconstrued that phrase has gotten. If someone likes doing things by the book, not leaving what can be done today for tomorrow, how is that high maintenance? I never ask my brothers or even the men I was getting to know (1) who texted him, (2) where they went, (3) who they were with, (4) why they were late, (5) why they didn't call, etc. I have relatives like that. I think I am gray in the head because of them!

The biggest problem with this personality type is that it is one that rarely, if ever, listens to/accepts advice; and I am speaking from experience. My advice to one of these women (though she has not yet implemented it) is to try for at least week training herself to not immediately unleash an interview like auction style questionnaire to her husband when he comes home from work. To try and just enjoy the embrace that they share in each others' arms and maybe even relax on the couch for a few minutes. And if there are kids, train them to do the same. Invite them to join you guys for the group hug. In a study I read during my years obtaining my Sociology degree, it stated that in order for a human to feel fulfilled and relaxed, he/she needs an average of about 7-10 human touches a day. So a kiss, a hug, a warm hand to hold, all those instill a sense of relief and happiness to loved ones, and that's what every member of the family needs.

Don't ask your spouse when coming home from work, "How was work? What did you do today?" He/she just spent the entire day there. The last thing they want to do is relive it. If they want to vent, they will vent. I know that from experience too. Sometimes the best step is to just give them a bit of space to breathe and unwind. I'm not saying don't talk. I'm saying don't nag. It gets on everyone's nerves.

It's just a notice for those who really have a man in their life. Someone surprisingly treating them with wonderful care and devotion.

If you have a treasure like that, then treasure it. Don't trash it. Many people, male and female, are finding that a rare staple in life.

My Opinions Are Not Facebook Statuses ... so don't feel the need to always leave a comment.

Really. It's like there's this invisible comment bar that floats out with everything I say. Seducing everyone to go ahead and comment and DIS-like. And once they do, they manage to click so fiercely on the metaphoric POST!!! Not a day goes by without someone, somewhere, somehow needing, desperately, to explain why I should or should not feel, think, want, need, not want, not need, not feel something. Why? Has Facebook evolved the human desire to talk a little too much? Once upon a time it was the trait of old ladies, of our parents' generations, of those "wise-men" to criticize and evaluate our insides with phony psychoanalysis. I tolerated the words of elderly and smiled in silence with occasional nods as they pleaded to change me.

But after a certain point, be it puberty, be it early graduation from high school, be it post-publication, or be it post-graduate school, I felt that enough was enough. Why does there need to be a comment left behind after every word I say? I understand the rules and regulations of a conversation. It involves give and take, occasionally some debates, maybe arguments if things get heated, and they should (should) end with a respectful understanding that people differ. Diversity exists. But for some reason, when it comes to me, it does not. Instead I must be told of the flaws that others see in my ideas, my thoughts, my feelings. Yes, humans are all flawed, but what shines above my head like a halo so brightly that attracts that destructive criticizers so intensely? AND IF I DARE, do what I am doing now, venting in a blog, venting at all about it, the roof caves in above me with yet more criticizers telling me that it is just a method in which people demonstrate their "care" and "understanding" and "fear" for me in my life.

I am blessed with two parents who are alive and well thank you very much. Once I find that their utmost care and advising has worn thin and reached utter emptiness, I will gladly solicit advice when needed. And sometimes even in these situations, I find that I possibly dig my own grave. When I do turn to others for opinions, maybe something even pettier, just mere conversational delights of a specific topic or issue, oh dear, I find that I enter the point of no return. For they don't merely enter it as a fruitful conversation between two people about life, but rather as an attack on why "you think of it like this, when it is really like this." I know what is concrete and what is not. Never will I approach a mathematician nor an idiot and say, "Hey, 1 + 1 = 11 man!" So get off my case!

When I sat and wondered, what made me so different than my peers, because I watched the way the ladies of my mother's generation approached them and the way they approached me. Call it the self-fulfilling prophecy or whatever other sociological and psychological jargon you'd like (and I enjoy it all for I too am a sociologist - but apparently different) ... but they do manage to treat me differently than most. [I say most because I have decided to work on my generalization disability, so instead of ALL I will now try the term MOST. Thank you and have a nice day!].

Scenario #1: You Must be 18 or older to call!!!
What is the topic that never seems to remain buried? Even after I buried it so well in my own life? You guessed it, relationships! Once upon a time I hoped and dreamed and anticipated to marry. Hope drowned and dreams didn't come true. [It's fine. I'm fine. Stop worrying.] So in the past, when conversations of marriage erupted within a group of girls somehow the disaster landed on my shoulders. Maybe I never learned the fine art of fitting in, but hey, why would I want to? Drama is much more fun, no? These groups usually consist of a diverse mixture of girls - single, engaged, married, or me. Yes, yes, a varying species I am indeed. As the married girls spoke, and the engaged ones boasted, we singletons listened eagerly; intrigued to hear about this mystifying life we believed was our future destiny. When silence took over, in those younger years of mine, I spoke and praised the supposed life I thought the married ones enjoyed. "Ah you're lucky. You've found your soul mate and I just hope mine appears soon enough." Right then the horror music should have played, as the eyes of shock focused upon me. "What?!?! No! You are too young. What the heck are you talking about. No. Go live your life. Go travel. [BY THE WAY, LAMEST ORDER I HAVE EVER BEEN REPEATEDLY GIVEN.] Be yourself and be free. You're going to tie yourself down and miss out on so much. Don't get married now. Wait a while. A long while." And it went on and on and on.

I never understood what these poor women felt deprived of post-marriage, but the life I was raised into, the religious aspect and cultural aspect and social aspect of it all, when I think about it, NOTHING would change drastically if I were to have married someone. I would live in a new house. But I could still speak my opinions (because I don't plan on marrying a suppressor). I could still work out to Britney Spears and Najwa Karam, visit my family and friends (crossing fingers that he ends up being a local yocal), and enjoy listening to my eclectic music and writing my poetry. "Traveling to India" was never on my to do list, like it was on Paul Rudd's to do list pre-marriage in Knocked Up so I won't feel like I missed out and ruined my free life with marriage.

Don't think I didn't ask these ladies what it is that they regretted so deeply for losing once they said I do. I did and NOT ONE could give me a straight answer. I still am oblivious to it. Now my problem isn't what was lost or found, it's why can't I want what I want and why does it have to be their way or the highway? They also managed to sprinkle on, every time, that this desire to marry was just a stupid girly phase I would soon get over. They were wrong. It was never a phase. It WAS me ... until I found that breakage is a pattern un-fixable, unchangeable, and that giving up and letting go is what I need to do. Which brings in scenario #2.

Scenario #2: DON'T YOU KNOW THAT MARRIAGE IS YOUR ONLY FATE?
We sat there in the room. Somewhat cozy. A mixture of conversations going on. Their heads turned to me as they asked about my winter trip with the family. I spoke about the weather, the relatives, the shopping, the air, the atmosphere, the beauty and the yearning I had for the country I visited. NOT ONCE DID I MENTION MARRIAGE. "Soooo, did you meet anyone there?" she asked winking consistently it almost resembled a twitch. Really? Really? Did she just bring that damn subject up? It had been a few years now and I had dropped it ... hard. No more discussions of men or marriage. NO MORE "M" WORDS!!! But she did it and she put me on the spot. Maybe it's the way I present myself, or maybe it's because I don't think like them, who knows, but my answer was far from what they wanted.

"No, no. I didn't meet anyone. That's not why I went there anyway. I'm not looking for marriage now and I'm not interested. I really am happy with the way life is now and I love graduate school and time with my family. So that's just how it is now." Her wide smile started getting weaker and morphing into a frown, with a hint of disgust. It made me laugh because it looked like a cartoonish move. "Wait, so what are you saying? You don't want to get married?" she asked with a bit of impatience and confusion. I shook my head. "No, not for a while really. Not welcoming anyone and not thinking of anyone." She got frazzled, got up and fixed her posture and rearranged the couch pillows to adjust it perfectly for the attack. "What do you mean? You can't NOT get married. That's not right. It's not what a girl like you should say. How dare you close the door on this idea. There are perfectly great men out there and if one comes to you, you better not shut the door in his face or else you're gona regret it. I once had a friend who rejected a suitor. He was a doctor and ...." she continued on in her rave and I had to work so hard at suppressing both anger and laughter. "And now she is almost 30 and she regrets it so badly. Like she wants ANYONE now. Don't do that!!!"

Her story was banter. Babel and banter. But I had to bear it, because I apply the law of silence. Maybe there's the key to my downfall. I believe that silence is golden. But society believes that silence is weakness. A sign of stupidity. I always remember the movie Rush Hour when it comes to this. The way Chan remained silent up until the point of necessity. And the whole time Tucker thought that he was stupid and ignorant. But the reality is, when you're silent, you see and learn lots more than when you grab the mic and limelight and lecture the world around you. And I find it my strength, but the world finds it my weakness.

She finished. Her face was the color of a cherry tomato and I smiled. The sensation of anger faded as I thought of all the above during her rant. I thought, I am NOT her 30 year old friend who rejected some random doctor and now regrets it. And so I began my response. It resembled some official debate, where one side screamed with anger their point, and the other side remained calm and collected, so diligently creating a response in the mental atmosphere of silence. "In Islam, there is "naseeb" right?" I asked her. [Naseeb means destiny/fate. Usually the term referred to when explaining the man or woman one ends up with, the job one lands, the house one buys, etc.]. She nodded and I smiled. So far so good. "And I do too. So if now I choose to be single and enjoy the moments that I can savor, the way you and your clan begged me to years prior, I have chosen this naseeb for me. And IF, if, God has planned for me a man next week, he will arrive because he is my naseeb. And if, I reject some doctor or engineer or lawyer or garbage man that comes my way because I believe I don't want to marry now, then HE is obviously not the ONE that is chosen for me. So never in my life will I feel a sense of regret for him. And never will I look back at him and his wife and envy her for taking him when I didn't. They were meant for each other, and he, whoever the heck he is, was not meant for me."

She shook her head. She discredited everything and focused on ONE thing only. And I quote, "So if now I choose to be single and enjoy the moments that I can savor, the way you and your clan begged me to years prior, I have chosen this naseeb for me." She denied ever telling me to remain unmarried, when she was just as guilty as the rest of them. I shrugged. I accepted, after YEARS of this, that the world around me will never actually LISTEN to what I have to say, but they will loudly claim they heard me out. I shall gladly give them the benefit of that doubt only. But for everything else, I just wonder why I remain silent in person. Why I listen to every word people say. Why I nod and respectfully tell them, "Yes, continue," even if I disagree. I don't HAVE to agree, but out of respect I must listen to my peers, my elders, my friends, my community. I never shut anyone out even if I don't like what they have to say. And more importantly, I don't ALWAYS follow up people's words and opinions and thoughts and beliefs with a comment of critical sort the way I find my words are. I tell myself, "Maybe he/she just wanted to vent? So just listen. Just listen."

Scenario #3: Silly Rabbit! Trix are for kids! REMIX [Final Scenario]
For three years I heard the rumors and I didn't reject or accept them. The teachers all said that high school would be the most memorable four years of my life. So I waited to see if they were right. They weren't. After one good year, and one not so good year, I decided I had to get out. It felt suffocating and redundant. From the atmosphere to the work to the system. And by June of my sophomore year I found my great escape. My ticket to freedom. They called it the CHSPE (pronounced chi`spee lol) and the angels sang hallelujah above its name when it appeared as a shining yellow title on GOOGLE. So I filled out the application for this proficiency exam, did all the research, conducted a cost-benefit analysis, and then walked into a large frightening college classroom and began the examination procedure. Before I knew it, my GED arrived in the mail. At only 16, I walked into my very first semester of community college, burned my tongue on a bitter cup of coffee, and attended my first ever pol sci lecture in an auditorium. I was proud and excited. Three years later the man handed me a fancy folder that held within it my Bachelor's Degree and I was ecstatic.

Now it all sounds so blissful. Like the beginning of a horror movie. Where everything plays out perfectly until BAM! The death of it all. Well within these fabulous flashbacks, I omitted the reality that the world let me live. Not only did people work hard at trying to keep me in high school (from "You'll never survive and surely fail!" to "You need high school so you have the chance to screw up BADLY and survive!" - all from adults by the way); but many turned to threats about ... wait for it ... yes, my marital future. "You think a man is going to want a woman so highly educated at such a young age? No!" I shrugged my shoulders and merely wiped their words off like dandruff on a black sweatered shoulder. "Do you think I want a man that doesn't want an educated and youthful woman?" That was my rhetorical response to their crap at 17. But it kept coming and much worse things were said. And I kept wondering why. "You're going to get a minor as well??? Why? You're not living your life at all. It's not fair to your adolescence!" No. What's unfair to my adolescence and childhood was the abuse of these people's words. I hate that I cannot look back at any decision or moment of supposed triumph in my history without always remembering someone who wanted to step on it. I won't even begin on the decision to pursue the publication of my poetry!

And people dare ask me why I am not "confident" ... not rocket science really. Crush a mature child that wants to take the world by storm and do something productive, and watch her grow up with a bit of a tilt. Like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I made it, but the remains of history will lie upon me forever. And that's fine. One day appreciation may come?

If only the taunts of this final scenario ended with reception of my Masters degree. It still continues till today. My 22nd birthday is just around the corner and yet so many tell me what a bad choice I, and my parents, have made at moving forward. Yup, so terrible. I would have been much better off suffering for two more years in a high school that I really didn't like, going crazy over SAT preparations, massive worries over university applications and then finally getting a Bachelor's at 22 INSTEAD of a Masters. Slap on the head!

To each his/her own. Why does the world not comprehend that concept?
Or silence is golden?
Or "Say a good word or say nothing at all"?
The list goes on.

I get it. For those who have that desperate urge to supposedly try and make everyone feel better. But often times people are forgetting that sometimes not saying anything feels a lot better to the other person. And honestly, I must make clear, that NOT everyone even knows how to offer criticism or advice, EVEN if it is "well-intended." In these situations it often makes matters worse and I have heard and experienced a fair share of those disasters. And really I have become tired of it and tired of constantly hearing the defense that these comments are all "honest and heartfelt." My professor used to always repeat the statement, "We have TWO ears and ONE mouth for a reason. We have to listen twice as much as we speak." Somehow though, I feel like I do all the listening while everyone speaks over me, on me, about me and through me.

I do not intend to offend anyone. I am merely narrating what is seriously going on. I don't always need your two cents. Because if I really got two pennies for every time I heard that Bill Gates would retire from the status of Billionaire, along with Zuckerberg. And I think that excessive (and even unexcessive) comments should be left to that petty blue bar that resides below every status, picture, event, link and THING on Facebook. Sometimes all people look for is someone or some people to LISTEN to them.

Can you hear me now?
Good!

To Love or Be In Love?

Maybe this is the question Shakespeare should have asked long ago. It just may have saved us all. What is the difference between loving and being in love? The answer—a lot. The mere fact that a person can “fall in” love only presents the fact that they can “fall out” of it as well. But when you love, the deep love, past the romance and excitement, you experience an emotion that becomes an everlasting imprint upon your heart. And this is the love that seems to last the longest.

This is the love that exists in the heart of the mother to her three week old embryo. This is the love that settles in the heart of families and best friends. This is the love that lives in memories of great times—ones that bring that smile each time. So maybe this is the love that we should truly search for when looking for The One? Not the spark that may turn into a flame—but the welcoming comfort that will turn into an entrance to lifelong commitment. Sparks and flames are not everlasting—a gust of wind can turn off a lot. And in this world, everyone seems to live in windy towns. I hear many talk about that “love” not being there anymore, the love fading away, and the disappearance of what they once had. Maybe it was the wrong love all along?

Couples today want to fall in love and hope the free-fall lasts forever. Physics states what comes up must always come down. History proves every ruler that managed to get up high, always came back down, hard. Why is falling in love any different? Gravity has control of everything on Earth. Maybe if you find that love that is so amazing it sends you to the moon, you two may have quite a chance—but good luck on that one! For the rest of us, glued to Earth, we have to find the “down to Earth” love that won’t make us trip and fall. The love that will bring us towards the happiness worth arguing and fighting for any day.

When I was younger, I use to ask a lot about relationships and marriage. I became more and more aware of the way Muslims could marry. It never made sense to me how falling in love was not even on the list of marriage prerequisites, not until I began fully researching it. Now it is the only thing that makes sense. How can falling in love be a prerequisite when there is a big chance of falling out of it? Shouldn’t the marriage be based on a sturdy foundation, in order to create an everlasting relationship? “So if you can’t date and it’s not based on falling in love, how do you meet a man to marry?” The most commonly asked question after people discover the truth about our relationships.

In the Islamic ways, the focus of a relationship is the mentality and personality of the people. So there are no physical relations until after the wedding. This obviously means that there is no relationship unless there is the intention of marriage from the start—this helps to avoid a lot of drama, regret and a long recorded past. However, it becomes difficult awaiting love and not falling.

And sometimes this is the reason, the hope that one grasps on to when they want to get through a chance that failed. It’s this thought that keeps one’s sanity and brings about that 1% of joy that this potential chance broke because this is one less opportunity of a loveless marriage. It could have been much worse had we said “I do.” So I keep this playing in my mind until slowly it becomes the believable reality. And when I am finally through the tunnel, I look back and see the past and realize the incompatibility. That is when I feel thankful for not loving, but merely falling. At least with a fall, you can always get back up again.