There's
always that barren piece of land that remains untouched. A real estate agent's
sign claims a sense of ownership but even that sign seeks to rid the land to
someone else. Something else. You wonder what was it? A patch of nature now
destroyed for the sake of modernism? You wonder what could it be? Another set
of Lego style apartment buildings so close to each other you could literally
wish your neighbor blessings when he sneezes? You wonder is it affordable?
Could you one day make a down payment when the next paycheck comes through?
It was part of our curriculum to study different lands in the state, and read about how lands' purposes are decided, and how often times those decision are made inefficiently, thanks to someone's personal agenda. But this is just land; it's far worse when this becomes applicable to humans. When they are treated like pieces of land. Forced to hold a sign soliciting their availability. Forever. For one night. For a few moments.
It was a cruel joke. Unintentional maybe, but cruel still. Somehow, wait no, not somehow, I made sure that it had circulated, this mantra of mine: No marriage. No kids. No problem. And people were unhappy. I went against the pure and utter purpose of a woman's creation: To marry and reproduce. That's it! To stray off this destined path only meant doom. To think for myself and be someone was wrong. To feel emotions and passions, have opinions and goals and dreams was an utter abomination.
I could see it. I was Reese Witherspoon in Pleasantville. The walking taboo that encountered a new realm of self-discovery while changing the minds of people in her path, and I loved it. I loved seeing a young woman's eyes tear up with hope and relief that she could amount to more than just dinner and diapers. That she should be valued for more than how perfect that turkey was on Thanksgiving. That she deserved to be the apple of someone's eye for who she was, rather than because she brought the apple pie. But the only problem with that part is we seldom ever get what we deserve in life. At least in this realm.
People can spend hours telling a woman, "He didn't deserve you," and "You deserve better, someone who will..." but the truth of the matter is where on earth in the 21st century does one find said partner? Good news, I no longer care. Remember? The mantra: No marriage. No kids. No problem.
But others do care, not about finding what they deserve, about this revolutionary mantra of mine. I've started my own Arab Spring here, or call it Arab Summer, as I find people wincing at my scorching words, telling me this fire I've started is deadly and wrong. It really does echo like a scene from a movie before the 1950s, when women could not even imagine, let alone implement their own ideas.
"You can't close the door on this. If you don't open up, you will lose opportunities," she said with sincere concern in her turquoise eyes. I was the landlord, refusing to sell, and she was the real estate agent, swooping in like a vulture on a property that seemed worthy. I knew she meant well. She had daughters of her own who were married (and divorced, like her) and she considered me to be one of them. "But I'm happy the way I am now. I just need a job, not a husband." The answer was less than satisfying and she pursued her own secretive course of action.
The man was now texting me, Facebooking me, messaging me, trying to see me, and I couldn't grasp why. We barely knew each other. Met once at a random event, didn't really hit it off (in my opinion), and I never looked back. But damn those moments when I never look back, because those are the ones that come back and bite me in the back. Suddenly the number of red notifications on Facebook sky rocketed, thanks to him. Text messages before I wake and sleep, from him. And in my mind I wondered where I went wrong. Where I led this man to think that there was a "For Sale" sign on me, and then I remembered.
My phone rang and I saw her number. The real estate agent, I mean, lady friend of mine. It took me a while as I debated answering because I knew, deep in the pit of my whatever, why she was calling. "Darling, how are you?" I did it, I answered. It would have been rude not to and I knew I would have to face her at some point. Be strong, I thought to myself. Stand by your mantra girl!
It was part of our curriculum to study different lands in the state, and read about how lands' purposes are decided, and how often times those decision are made inefficiently, thanks to someone's personal agenda. But this is just land; it's far worse when this becomes applicable to humans. When they are treated like pieces of land. Forced to hold a sign soliciting their availability. Forever. For one night. For a few moments.
It was a cruel joke. Unintentional maybe, but cruel still. Somehow, wait no, not somehow, I made sure that it had circulated, this mantra of mine: No marriage. No kids. No problem. And people were unhappy. I went against the pure and utter purpose of a woman's creation: To marry and reproduce. That's it! To stray off this destined path only meant doom. To think for myself and be someone was wrong. To feel emotions and passions, have opinions and goals and dreams was an utter abomination.
I could see it. I was Reese Witherspoon in Pleasantville. The walking taboo that encountered a new realm of self-discovery while changing the minds of people in her path, and I loved it. I loved seeing a young woman's eyes tear up with hope and relief that she could amount to more than just dinner and diapers. That she should be valued for more than how perfect that turkey was on Thanksgiving. That she deserved to be the apple of someone's eye for who she was, rather than because she brought the apple pie. But the only problem with that part is we seldom ever get what we deserve in life. At least in this realm.
People can spend hours telling a woman, "He didn't deserve you," and "You deserve better, someone who will..." but the truth of the matter is where on earth in the 21st century does one find said partner? Good news, I no longer care. Remember? The mantra: No marriage. No kids. No problem.
But others do care, not about finding what they deserve, about this revolutionary mantra of mine. I've started my own Arab Spring here, or call it Arab Summer, as I find people wincing at my scorching words, telling me this fire I've started is deadly and wrong. It really does echo like a scene from a movie before the 1950s, when women could not even imagine, let alone implement their own ideas.
"You can't close the door on this. If you don't open up, you will lose opportunities," she said with sincere concern in her turquoise eyes. I was the landlord, refusing to sell, and she was the real estate agent, swooping in like a vulture on a property that seemed worthy. I knew she meant well. She had daughters of her own who were married (and divorced, like her) and she considered me to be one of them. "But I'm happy the way I am now. I just need a job, not a husband." The answer was less than satisfying and she pursued her own secretive course of action.
The man was now texting me, Facebooking me, messaging me, trying to see me, and I couldn't grasp why. We barely knew each other. Met once at a random event, didn't really hit it off (in my opinion), and I never looked back. But damn those moments when I never look back, because those are the ones that come back and bite me in the back. Suddenly the number of red notifications on Facebook sky rocketed, thanks to him. Text messages before I wake and sleep, from him. And in my mind I wondered where I went wrong. Where I led this man to think that there was a "For Sale" sign on me, and then I remembered.
My phone rang and I saw her number. The real estate agent, I mean, lady friend of mine. It took me a while as I debated answering because I knew, deep in the pit of my whatever, why she was calling. "Darling, how are you?" I did it, I answered. It would have been rude not to and I knew I would have to face her at some point. Be strong, I thought to myself. Stand by your mantra girl!
"So I did some background check into that guy you met a while back that was interesting, but he's unavailable. He's not really looking for a relationship right now. BUT good news, remember that guy you ran into at the event last week? He's looking to get married, so what do you think?"
Let's break this down analytically shall we? First of all, the interesting man was indeed quite a charming option, but his "Closed" sign was clearer than mine and so I didn't even consider it, and I explained that to her. Why she wanted to do some digging for me I have no idea. Secondly, why on earth would a man looking for marriage constitute as criteria for my intrigue, let alone a prerequisite to agree? I mean the way these women function, I don't get it. I've been in this situation before. I'm pulled aside by some random woman and she suddenly explains there's a man on a hunt for a woman to marry, and we literally begin to sound like we've been transported back to the caveman era. "Man hunt for marriage. You, marriage!" *Grunts*
It was ridiculous, ludicrous, and their set dysfunctional system of choice. "Uh, no, thank you. I remember him. He is not my type and honestly I'm still not looking for a relationship." She sighed. "Honey you have to open up to new things. New opportunities. Don't close the door. Think about it. He's an engineer."
Okay sidebar! Time to analytically critique again. First, why is it okay for people to respect a man's desire to stay single but not a woman's? Hmm? Hmmmmm? *Eyebrows raised highly in questioning format!* Really, why have I faced an extreme sense of backlash for being content at my current lifestyle but those free roaming bachelors are praised and admired for their desires. And strange those words "free roaming" remind me of cattle, yet those men are not seen as such, while we women are. "Oh look, there, that Dania is a free roaming ivory one. Brand her!" Why do I have to reconsider my choice and not instead have her call up the interesting charming man and convince him to reconsider his? Why couldn't I go and brand him? A hypothetical thought.
Second, what impact was the statement "He's an engineer" supposed to have on me? A turn on? An impressive motivating factor? Man, every flipping Arab I know is a doctor or engineer. Nothing screams turn on more than a unique study/occupation. Give me an analyst. An architect. A bio-genetic researcher. A man looking to create something new and beneficial to humanity. Something that can wow me with its originality, IF you were to truly believe that his occupation was supposed to be the biggest and most significant tempting push.
When we hung up I thought it would be over. That she understood my desire to be as cool as the interesting man and remain closed off from this. Remain that empty land content with being un-owned. Content with a "Not Available" sign upon it. But like those kids in grade school who stuck a post-it with the words "Kick Me!" on the innocent's back, she stuck me with the sign "Available" and now someone's been misled. *Caveman Grunt*
How do I tear down this sign and rework whatever damage's been done? Mend the fences and again reiterate my thoughts? It doesn't seem possible. And oddly enough, after embracing this mindset and philosophy people have reacted in ways I really can't understand. Women are protesting outside my doors, blocking out the word NOT with oppressive forces to change my ways. Men have been misreading it as "For Lease" and some freaks have even mastered a form of dyslexia that's led them to believe it says, "Try Me," like I were a toy at Target with that sticker on my hand or foot. Who knew getting an education really doesn't lead to being educated.
It's frustrating but I'm slowly becoming immune. Letting these people do as they please, while I do as I please. Women can banter and harass my family for allowing me to live my own life my way. Men can make their ridiculous attempts...and fail. And I can just be that happy landlord who knows no matter what offer I'm given, this land is far too valuable to sell; at least not till the market improves and I'm reassured that the coming buyers will actually be sincere ones who can afford to value what it is I offer. And that is not yet in the horizons that I see.
