In this time and age, how do we single arab women in our thirties feel? How do we think those around us feel? What experiences do we go through, and how do these experiences affect our singlehood? Inspired from personal experience and of those of all the beautifully fabulous Arab Single Ladies out there, I hope this blog reminds us all just how amazing it is to be single! Or is it....?

Thursday, October 30, 2014

How much do looks matter?

So, a friend came over to visit last night.

My friend is a civil engineer, and she is a very pretty girl. She is smart, and funny, albeit a bit traditional when it comes to certain schools of thought. I generally enjoy spending time with her, and find that we can mostly get a serious and an interesting conversation going. Anyway, she came over last night, and as we sat on the balcony enjoying an argileh, she told me that someone had just introduced her to a guy who is looking for a wife. A traditional way of proposing, which she is ok with, in general.

So as we sat there discussing the details, she told me that she had agreed to get introduced to the guy. They started by exchanging phone numbers, and texting each other, and a couple of phone calls. The guy finally asked her out for dinner. She said he was such a gentleman, had brought her chocolates, was very considerate and polite. The surprise, or rather the shock, though, was that when they met, she realized that he had had some kind of skin disease, (of which he told her he was fully recovered, now), that had caused ALL his hair to fall off, and it will never grow back.

All his hair meant the hair on his head, any hair on his body, and most importantly, no eyebrows.

Now, my friend was polite enough to go through the dinner with him, and she actually said that once you get over the initial shock of his looks, he really is a nice guy. She went home, though, and decided that she cannot go through with this, as his looks were just too difficult to bear. Her mother, though, gave her the advice to give herself some time, go out a couple of more times with him, and see if she still feels the same way about him. She decided to take her mother’s advice, and so, last night, she told me that they have gone out three times so far, as well as exchanging phone calls and messages.

She then mentioned that the more she spends time with him, the more she realizes that he is actually a decent guy, a gentleman, and that she feels comfortable around him.  Now, she asked me what I thought, and whether or not I believed she should give him a chance. She also showed me a photo, and yes, the eyebrows were a little bit too much.

I didn’t give her an answer, because there never is a correct answer if a friend asks you what you think of a suitor, and because that is a decision she needs to take on her own. But, it got me thinking: would I be willing to spend the rest of my life with a hairless eyebrow-less man?

In my opinion, it is one thing to fall in love with someone who has a medical condition, or who goes through one while you are together. But it is entirely different to decide to accept a traditional marriage proposal with someone as such. Or am I wrong? I mean, would a man accept marrying a woman, through a traditional proposal, if she had no eyebrows? I really really doubt it, and why should a woman accept one, then?

Also, if she got over his looks, would she be able to get over the looks of other people as they walk down the street?

I know I sound very very shallow, but it really got me thinking about what point does the compromise end? Are looks important? Are they more important for women than to men ? And when does a girl decide that it is too much to overlook?

I would love to hear your opinions on this, men and women. I would love to see if you agree to my point of view, or if there are other opinions out there, keeping in mind that it is a traditional marriage proposal, with no love story behind.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

The 'joy' of cooking?!

I have big dinner plans tonight.

My boyfriend’s brother is in town, and we met (for the first time), last night. Being the Arab that I am, it was essential to invite, and insist and insist and insist, him over for dinner tonight. And of course, it is as equally important to impress. And although it I am generally a good cook, the striving to impress usually ends up in a disaster.

When I started dating my boyfriend, I made him a lasagna. It was the first dinner I had cooked him, and we were still in the ‘does he like me?/ is he just being nice?’ phase, and so, the pressure to impress was a million times higher. Why, oh why, do women think that the ability to cook a decent meal will make a man get down on his knees and vow his endless love? I mean, seriously, what do we expect, when we cook, and all our senses are directed towards that first bite he takes, just so we can make out whether we passed or failed that critical exam?! What is even more maddening, is the fact that 9 times out of 10, they don’t even notice what it is that they just placed in their mouth!

So, anyway, I was going to make a lasagna. The decision to cook that not random, of course! It was after detailed and careful surveys that I ran across every single person I ever served food for, as well as a week of browsing the internet for meal ideas for ‘the first big dinner’. You know, like Cosmopolitan would suggest something not complicated but not too easy, to show him you’re a woman who loves a challenge. Yes, apparently, what you cook, ladies, defines your character.

After work, I passed by the grocery store to pick up the ingredients I need, got home, took a nap (to ensure my beauty is also well looked after), and then decided it was time to start cooking. Little did I know that I had run out of gas. So, after starting my music in the kitchen, trying to get the mood right, all hell broke loose, not only because I ran out of gas, but because I have NO IDEA how to change a gas cylinder. The clock was ticking, and what if I don’t make the meal in time? What if I lose the possibility of a life changing heart melting everlasting love, because I ran out of the stupid gas!

So I texted a friend, and not-so-patiently waited for them to come over, and then we both went out and got a gas cylinder, and changed the stupid thing, before I literally threw out  my friend, to try and focus again on the big meal. I had lost a lot of time, and the thought of not getting everything ready in time (and thus, according to the theory above, losing all hope left in humanity), only added to the pressure. So, I get started with the white sauce, and without unnecessary embarrassing details, and despite having made lasagna at least 150 times over the past couple of years, I failed not once, but TWICE, in making the damn thing represent anything other than a slimey white water with chinks of flour floating on top. Not once, I tell you. And because the clock was REALLy ticking now, I had no time to deal with the mess, and so, my beautiful guest room housed two big pots of that slime, for the night.

And I locked the door to that room, of course.

Thankfully, the third time was a charm, and miraculously, a white sauce presented itself. By the time my boyfriend arrived, the lasagna was ‘safely’ in the oven, and everything looked normal.

Over a year later, we still laugh about that story, and we mostly eat out nowadays, or ‘modestly’ cook some meals at home. And if it is ruined, we throw it out, and we laugh.

I am looking forward to tonight, and I know that the stress is way less now. And as a last piece of advice, let me tell you that my boyfriend says that stress or no stress, lasagna or a cheese sandwich, if he loves you, he loves you.

So enjoy cooking, normally. Oh, and do what I did, and move to an apartment with gas pipes :)

Sunday, October 26, 2014


So I decided, or rather, I was made to promise that I will write again, today. 

Why have I stopped? I sometimes think that writing can be a bit too real. I mean, listing down your feelings, facing them and analyzing them, deciding how to label a certain situation, because your writing will always lead the conversation into a certain direction.. This all had made me believe that it is somehow difficult, especially on the not so good days.

On the other hand, there are the disappointments sometimes. You start a story, you know, like ‘The Good Story’ and then it is over, in a way that derives it from all meaning it ever had, and that is normal, I suppose. That is how life is, like it or not (Ah, the wisdom of being 33!) But still, you  don’t want to read, (and in my case re-read and re-read and RE-READ the story, the hopes, the prayers, a million times!)

Then, there are the good times, in fairness. The good times that are so drunkenly good that it seems you don’t want to turn your attention from, for a single moment. You want to be there, in that moment, and everything else just falls in the background. You have no time to even share the good news, or write, or even contemplate. You just want to keep going- and never ever stop.

But I have always wanted to write, I wanted to express the person I am, and I have always been best doing so in writing. I like telling stories, and listening to them, and analyzing them, and thinking of different scenarios. And it is time for more stories, God knows it is.

 I am in love. 

Simply put, and straight to the point. I am a woman in love, and for that life seems to be a much nicer place these days. Love balances me, and holds me still- in a good way, and pushes me forward, in even a better way. I am in love. 

What is the difference, then, between being in a relationship, and being single? Do we stop being who we are? Do our insecurities become less obvious, and do you share them, all of them, with the person you love? 

I must say that I am blessed with being in love with a reasonable man. A man, who looks at me, and I kid you not, from that one look, he can know exactly what is in my head. That truly is a blessing, because I am unable to hide anything from him, even if I ever wanted to do so. 

But I do still have my insecurities. I think that it is not about sharing them or not, but it is more of whether I want to think about them, or not. Because most of the times, I don’t want to think about them, myself. 

Well, this is a start, or rather, a re-start. I have had a good 22 months away. I have quit smoking a little over a year ago, I have lost all the weight I wanted to lose. I have travelled more, read more, got to know myself more. I have met an amazing man, and for the first time in my life, celebrated a one year anniversary, in a real relationship. Like grown ups. Honest to God. 

And here I am again, ready to share my diaries, again.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Here's to a great 2013!!

It has been almost a year since I last wrote anything, despite the thoughts that lingered at the back of my head every once in a while, asking to come out. Yet, I believe I needed the peace and quiet of not analyzing every though I have, at least for some time.. It has actually been a good year, in general.. And I have more hopes and dreams and philosophies for this one.. I got a dog last May, a toy poodle puppy, which is turning to be one of the best companions I have ever had. He is now almost one year old, and it is remarkable seeing him grow up, and going through phases. We communicate in our own ways, we go on walks, we have plenty of fun playing with each other, and I adore him.. I took my mom to Russia for her 60th birthday gift last August, and we had a wonderful time. There was so much to see. It is one of the few countries that can still surprise you, in these ‘globalized’ times, with so much history and so many stories. I felt like I was moving in a different times, as I moved from one city to another, and had a great time imagining the many stories that must have happened around every other corner.. I dated, of course.. There was the ‘yeller’, the guy who actually seemed to be normal, for a change, until he yelled at me on our 4th or 5th date, and I mean screamed his lungs off. Then there was the cocky guy who after our first date texted me to tell me ‘he doesn’t want to tell whether or not he likes me, as he wants to OBSERVE for a while, before deciding the way forward’, as if I had no say in that. And then there was the joker who was unable to go complete a sentence before breaking into the dumbest giggles I have ever heard. Yes, it was a good year indeed. I also had a pleasant surprise from a friend who had hurt my feelings a couple of years ago, whereby I got a very surprising email from her, apologizing and giving me a closure that I think I needed. I don’t think we can ever be friends again, but receiving that email from her was something I well appreciated, especially as I never would have expected it. I started smoking again, which I know isn’t the smartest thing to do, especially since I quit for 6 months and so was able to know the difference. But hey, I can always try again, until I succeed for good, I suppose.. My cousin came for a visit and stayed with me for 6 weeks, during which I realized how much I love her, and how valuable our friendship is. We had lived together before, 10 whole years ago, and in this stay, I realized how she will always be a part of my history, and my future.. I love you, Ray.. This year brings with it lots of new hopes and new resolutions.. There will be new stories, some good and some not as good, I suppose.. I am excited, optimistic, and at peace.. Let the new stories begin!

Sunday, March 25, 2012

A Metallic Blue Color!

I coloured my nails a metallic blue color, and somehow, that took away my blue feelings of the past few days.

The story began when I decided to go to the salon, freshen up my nails and blow dry my hair. And as the manicurist asked me to choose my color, I automatically started looking at shades of dark red or light pinks, these being the safest colors to wear with dark suits to the office, and which would match almost anything I’d wear. But for some reason, and at the last minute, I decided that I don’t want a safe color. Almost out-loud, I told myself: You know what? Choose whatever crazy color you would like to wear and forget about what color you should wear..

And so, I turned to a color I never tried before: Metallic Blue. I coloured my nails a metallic blue color, and it made me feel in control.
I coloured my nails a metallic blue color, and I felt liberated for a brief moment, because I simply had the ability to do something that doesn’t even make sense!

I coloured my nails a metallic blue color, and it made me feel sexy, despite my extra kilos and my grown brows. It made me feel unique, special.. Wild..

I coloured my nails a metallic blue color and it made me feel like a rebel over all the other things that I do every day, and excel at, but do not enjoy. I coloured my nails with a color that would make everyone who looks at them squint their eyes in surprise, yet, it would make me feel like I don’t care. Even if I really do.

I coloured my nails a metallic blue color, and decided that from now on, I will look for the little joys of everyday, joys that may not make sense to anyone else but me, but that that is ok. In fact, that is all I want.

Go ahead ladies, and find your own shade, today!

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Things I needed to let off my chest..

I’ve had a very rough weekend.

I had, actually, been looking to the weekend all week long. I had invited the family over, extended family as well, and planned it to be a smooth, relaxing time, for everyone involved. I am a hostess, by nature, and I love having people over.

But the twist of events that took place eventually was so weird that it looks like a scene taken out of a very imaginative brain of a playwright. I do not usually have these ‘scenes’ in my house, and I feel very uncomfortable witnessing one if i had to. And so, needless to say, this weekend left me very disturbed and unsettled.

The thing is, sometimes, i feel i lose control over myself. It is not my actions, but my thoughts, that i lose control over (it takes a whole lot to make me lose control of my actions, but it does happen once every blue moon). And today, i felt i did lose control of my stream of thoughts, and that made me feel extremely annoyed with myself, and everyone around me.

And when i feel that way, i get defensive.

I like to think that i am aware of my faults, since i really believe that that is the first (and only!) way to eventually get over them. And I know I get defensive sometimes, and that I need to get over that as well.

Not sure if I am making any sense.

I also have told myself, and my best friends, so many times before, that i hate being dramatic, or feeling like a victim. Because I know that I still do sometimes, even despite fierce efforts of consciously fighting it. The world is a fierce place, that tries to take everyone down every single day. We go through our lives, with an instinct of survival and a tendency of being happy. But just as we think we had set smooth sail, something or the other bangs us right in the face, and takes it away. Then, with the blessings of God and the miracle of growing up, we pick up the pieces, miraculously, one way or the other, and we try to move on. Then it happens again, and again, and again. Then it gets engraved in our heads and hearts, that it is just the way life is.

Maybe it just is the way I am, maybe i am generalizing. A part of me started this blog to share these crazy thoughts, and see if someone else connects to it. I have over 1,000 likes on facebook now, and that gives me some peace. It makes me feel that some people can miraculously understand what a weird person i am sometimes.

Someone once told me that we need to understand why we think or react in a certain way sometimes. And i try that. I try squeezing my thoughts into trying to remember incidents that i believe may have ended up making me feel the way i feel about a certain thing. But i don’t think i am good at that. And maybe its because I cant understand what the benefit of that would be anyway. I wish someone would tell me that. I wish there was a clear cut manual for that.

I am sitting here on a quiet corner of the beach, with my laptop and a book for back up if i need it. And around me a few little boys playing on the sand. The weather is beautiful, with a light cool breeze, and the chattering of the boys give me peace. I want that ease, and the comfort of throwing sand all over my head, and feeling that that would give me bliss.

How can an intention be so pure, and an outcome be so evil?

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Gratitude Journal, 8th of March

- I am grateful for the music I heard on my way to the office today, as it gave me a lot of peace that I needed to feel.
- I am grateful for the unexpected but much needed hug my friend gave me today, and the love I felt in that hug.
- I am grateful for the fact that I bumped my car stupidly into another car today, but both cars had no scratches on them.
- I am so very grateful the weekend is just about to start, and I will get to spend time with my family, especially my 4 year old nephew.
- And since it's Women's Day today, I am much grateful for being a woman. I love being one, I love my mom, my sister, my girlfriends, and all the other women that I don't even know.