When you are a teenager, and not an Arab, you have "the talk". You know "the talk". It's the one about the birds and the bees, and the condoms, and how you shouldn't be promiscuous, and such other topics in relation to sex. When you are Arab, The Talk is quite different. Our Talk involves a much higher level of thinking, which yes, does in some way partake the notion of sex, although subtle.
The Talk occurs at about the same age as the Non Arabs "talk". The Arabs talk about something along the lines of The Mistake and what to expect when meeting a nice Suitor for you in the future, or present depending on your circumstance. My talk occurred around that time, coincidentally when a cousin stated his undying love for me. I still happen to believe it was lust with the help of other aunts and uncles back in the Ol' Country.
Let's begin with the awkward, "(My Name), do you know that you will be thinking about marriage soon?" This was the wrong question to ask. I was thinking about getting my drivers license at 15 and how I was going to bump Montell Jordan in my tricked out ride. "Do you know what you will do when (The One) is going to come and say he wants to marry you?" I have never felt such burning in my chest when this happened! The Pushy Mom was nonchalant about this, and here I am, excited about being allowed to drive and shave my legs! It was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. I had dreams, aspirations, ambitions, and I felt it was all trumped by The Talk. The Talk gave me a new perspective from life. I was born to bear babies! I was a Monster factory! I couldn't handle it! "Do you know that you, my bint (Arabic word for "daughter") will eventually be given to man? You will be someone else's and no longer mine?" That's it! I'm outta here! Or at least that's what I thought. From that day on, I was determined to do one thing, and one thing only, go to college and be the first from my parents to get a degree. See, education wasn't a thing with both my mom and dad. For some reason, that was skipped with those two. Sometimes when I have talks, I see it. No offense, but come on! I was 15 years old! We weren't nomads! We were living in the south suburbs of Chicago with the rest of the Unimportant Acquaintances, who ironically, had made some sort of impact on The Pushy Mom considering that she was having The Talk with me at 15!!!
Well, time has passed. I am no longer 15. Yet, I am still single. I have accomplished most of my dreams and aspirations, and still withstands my strong ambition to become successful and independent of anyone that may walk in my life. It's working out for me good so far. I can sincerely say that I am happy to be who I am today. Although, I can do without the daily Talk. Now The Talk is more like, "Yallah, you're not young anymore!" Instead of, (my name) is going to work hard for what she has, it has become, you're not happy. Not Happy. I am not happy. Let me tell you why I'm not happy Pushy Mom. It's because I live with you and you remind me that life sucks without a man. You still haven't realized that I, the independent chicky, is completely satisfied without the The Debacle and The Mistake no where in sight of my future! I know I seem mean, but when I get The Talk, I feel as if I had failed everyone.
Then, the dreaded Ukbal 3ndik occurs and I just burst. First of all, I don't want to talk about my first night with my husband with you. I think, and I am sure that I am not alone in this notion of thought, talking about having sex with The Suitor is plain awkward. I don't want to tell you how we did it and how much it hurt. Every women that isn't a virgin has experienced their first night, and let me tell you something, those women talk about how shitty it is! Why would you make me recreate the horrid feeling in mind by having me explain it to you?!?! It's absurd! I've already gathered for X amount of years that I am a failure until I have a man. No matter what career path I chose, I am a failure. It's funny though, because all the Unimportant Acquaintances feel the same. "So and so has a Ph.D and she still isn't married and she is X years old. Ya haram (poor one)." Why so haram? What makes that person a hazeen (sorry fella)? Because she isn't married? That's ridiculous.
The irony of it all is when it does happen, and the divorce five years later. It's then the Pushy Mom (who is everyone's mom, btw) shuts the hell up.
Effing Mat, only worries about condoms while I worry about which towel I'm going to show the family.
lmfaoooooooooooooooooo
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