We’ve been round this tree before.

06Dec08

They say history repeats itself, but this, my friends, is ridiculous.

I wrote this post once. My thoughts just after first year, enamoured with the idea of early marriage, filled with idealist imaginings of the Disney sort. ‘Oh, we shall live happily-evah-aftah’, ‘Love shall prevail’, ‘all you need is faith”.

Pfft.

So yes. My thoughts on the matter HAVE changed.

And now – NOW of all epochs – just because I’ve finished my degree (pending results, God willing), people are expecting me to, in the tradition of Neil Armstrong and all other next-steppers, dive headlong into the world of holy matrimony.

It’s not that I’m receiving offers from right, left and centre, no - it’s that I’m old. And I’m done with uni, and frankly, what else do I have left to look forward to?

Who on earth wrote these rules, anyway?

I have friends raising their eyebrows at every male human they see/hear me talking to, making me, in return, more coarse and dismissive than usual, and not doing any favours to my personal relations portfolio. I have people hinting, I have people speculating, I have people teasing – imagine blunt jokes along the lines of ‘how about a local Muslim dude, eh? Eh?’. God, I even have people tagging me with marriage-related memes!

(Yes. You. Don’t hide away by slamming your lime-green Dell shut. Come and face the orchestra.)

Truth is, I’ve been making my own observations about marriages – what works, what doesn’t, the frequency of shut-the-hell-up-sayang moments in public. I’ve studied people with children, without children, with too many children, with spending problems, with thrift problems, and as desirable as being given a dumpster-load of responsibilities is, I’m afraid I have come to a conclusion for my hypotheses two years prior:

Marriage is NOT for me. At least, not for the next five years. Minimum.

Because, heck, there’s still a lot out there. I haven’t even had my driver’s license yet (there MUST be a record somewhere for holding your Ls for three consecutive years). I haven’t travelled enough of the Northern Hemisphere. I have never had a paying job. Actually, I’ve never even had a non-paying job.

I’ve never worked before in all my 21 years. Wow. Ding! moment #4298.

I don’t even know whether I’ve graduated from uni – my future hangs in the balance as it is. I am not done with studying. I want to do maybe another degree; I want a postgraduate degree – a PhD in something that has barely anything to do with what I’m doing right now.

I haven’t written a proper novel and no, that feeble attempt from when I was 17, complete though it was, does not count. I haven’t published a book. I haven’t gathered my thoughts around my Cartesian politics. I don’t even know what Foucault really means by ‘the gaze’!

Plus, I’m totally immature. And until I find a way of living that doesn’t irritate my angel of a housemate as much, then co-habitation with a MAN is – ugh – not an option.

My head hurts from even thinking about it.

So. Well-meaning people, far and wide, the answer is No.

No Turkish blokes who speak Broady.

No Pakistani dudes in sharp Oxford shirts. I know too many of them for it to count.

No Medic students, either. No offense.

No older men. I have a thing against condescension, unless it comes from me.

No Arab men PERIOD. And not for the reasons you might think, either. (A.Zayegh and A.Azzam need not be offended – buddies are buddies. We cool.)

Not. Right. Now.

And no point asking ten minutes later.

Well now. It feels good to get that off the chest.

Pecan pie, anyone?

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