I loathe nights like this one; nights when you sit down with yourself, confront yourself… it’s just you against… the other you. The problem with such nights is that amidst the inevitable psychological challenge you’ll kinda lose track of who you really are.

ODD NEWS. I think that I’m about to embark upon one of those arranged marriages ordeals. About four months ago if the subject of arranged marriage was ever brought up in my presence I would have probably laughed and left, but I’ve come to realize that if a person really, really trusts Allah SWT, trusts that no one except for Him will ever find a person’s perfect someone… then there’s nothing to worry about really. Al niyyah is what it is all about.

Even though this is MY BLOG and I’m allowed to lie my ass off… I’ll be honest. I deserve a bit of honesty.

I’m scared shitless.

I’m scared that after all these years of ego manipulation and glorifying my perfect human form… that I’ll waltz into my worst nightmare, the one where I’m exposed, revealed for who I truly am. They’re kind of different, I reckon, arranged marriages. With arranged marriages your imperfections can become the foot that kicks you out. They can be the rejection stamp, the Exit sign, the Game Over line, and the wave goodbye.

Well, here’s the thing. I think that’s how it works in Egypt anyways. The first meeting is usually a get-to-know-you-before-I-can-squeeze-you kind of meeting I think. They allow you the chance to talk your ass off. Say what you’re interested in and highlight your competitive edge if you have one… Of course if you don’t have one then you’re basically screwed.

You can talk about the Egyptian three course meal: Religion, football, and politics. The point is… if I measured myself against that scale, I’d probably get a D+. But then again a D+ wouldn’t get you into the faculty of Medicine, Engineering, Pharmacy, or whatever. It can land you in Commerce… but the line’s too long you’d probably retire by the time you get there.

The point is I don’t follow football, I don’t follow local politics very much… frankly, I don’t care anymore. And, well, religion-wise… I work at a bank, and believe me a million questions can pretty much follow that one. You can always lie, but I wouldn’t do that. It’d be too funny and cruel… not to mention haram of course. You can say the truth, that you’re not interested… but I don’t think that my over-inflated ego would be welcomed on stage there.

It’s too messed up… and my comebacks have gotten very, very limited on the subject.

I never cared about what people thought. One of the many reasons I always hated the idea of proposing was being put in a situation of judgment and assessment. I used to think ‘Who gives that person the right to evaluate me? I should be evaluating him.’ Yes it’s sick. I know. Yes, I have a sister. But things change, apparently. I was another cliché with a reason, much like a flamingo that stands on one leg thinking that if it stood on both, Earth would fall off its grid, much like a worm that never finishes its food in fear of eating up the entire world. That’s ego my friend. That is the sickness that’s been blinding me.

Now the answer to the question of ‘Where do you see yourself in five years?’ is basic and simple. It’s a well known clichéd question that interviewers everywhere never get bored of using. In fact somebody should write a book that contains all the possible answers to that question. It’s like the tagline of the Interview Bible. The excerpt that interviewers believe would actually sell the goddamn book. Unfortunately, when it comes to proposals, one can’t really sing the old tune of ‘Sitting in your seat, Sir’. I dunno. Don’t ask me, it just doesn’t work. You gotta be clear, direct, honest, bullshit-free. At least that’s how I want it to be.

The only problem is that I still don’t know where to see myself in five years. I know I want to be a better person, better job, better pay… the whole nine yards. Oh well…

And the ‘Why do you work at a bank if you think it’s haram?’. Well, I haven’t thought of an appropriate answer for that one yet. I am job hunting, but then again… if I were a father. I would say NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

I do know this. I know that I was sane and awake when I went to study commerce at Ain Shams “University”. It was MY CHOICE. I transferred from the faculty of Pharmacy to do it. Yes. That I did. Maybe I don’t always know what’s best for me. Maybe I’m not one of those people who got to ask about the HIGHEST SCORING FACULTY before filling out their faculty “choice list” illusion forms. I remember I only filled out four spots on that list and handed it to the guy.

And the point behind this last paragraph is for it to be a reminder for myself that I will be ME if I ever go for it and propose. I know that I don’t really fit into the typical husband-gonna-take-care-of-my-daughter frame, but I am not willing to falsify myself in order to impress anybody. I’lll just put my trust in Allah SWT, pray Estekhara and see where the endless stream will take me this time.

Life as a single is a bitch. I’ve really had enough of it… but at least it’s still my life. I won’t follow football or memorize the names of our bullshit disguisedly unemployed ministers. I won’t lie and say that I chose the banking profession because ‘If we all leave it, then…’ or ‘Banking is the backbone of a country’s economy’.

I’ll just bear my name, my identity, and my faith in Allah and waltz in.