Life

Love, Organically

During my first attempt at online dating, I “met” this guy from California. I wasn’t used to meeting guys online at that point. Every guy I was interested in or talking to had been someone I had met amongst my social circle. This was before smartphones, Instagram, and when Facebook was just for college students. The online world was still an enigma to most people, and social media was reduced to MySpace.

I was brought to the online dating world after for working as a full-time teacher for 2-3 years and realizing the limited opportunities to meet new people were dwindling. I decided to give the online dating world a try. The first site I joined was called “Arab Lounge.” Although I wasn’t completely set on marrying an Arab, it was the only dating site with Muslims that had a decent amount of people on it. So back to Cali Guy…

I replied to his message because of how simple and flattering it was, “You seem like a sincere person.”

I remember bracing for weirdness as I went to his profile. All the messages I had gotten had been pretty weird. As I looked at his profile, I realized, he was actually pretty normal… and funny, too! I responded back with a ‘thank you’ and gave him a compliment about something I read on his profile (don’t remember exactly what it was), and he asked if we could talk on the phone. The prospect of talking to a normal guy was pretty exciting.

Our first conversation was ok. He seemed cool, but I felt like I was on some sort of job interview – “So, where do you hope to be in 5 years? What would you say is your biggest flaw? What do you like to do in your downtime?” It was pretty awkward, but unfortunately, I like talking about myself, so…

The second conversation was even more strange AND the most enlightening (the enlightenment came later). He built this hypothetical situation about walking into this party where all of these different groups of people were mingling. At a closer look, while walking around the room, you notice that all of these people, although seemingly similar, have quite different conversations from group to group. So eventually, a person would gravitate towards a particular group that they enjoyed talking to and had more in common with. Again, even if everyone seemed similar.

At the time, I was just more preoccupied with the fact that he was a normal guy, so I just acted like I got what he was trying to make me understand and acted pleasantly agreeable with just about anything he said. I felt the connection between us start to dwindle when I got the feeling that I didn’t answer some of his questions to his liking, despite my desperate efforts to impress him. I was getting ready to leave for a year-long study in Egypt, and when I offered him my number in Egypt if he ever wanted to call he responded so rudely with, “Why the hell would I call you there?” Now you may think, “Well, Meriam it IS very presumptuous to think that he’s going to call you overseas,” but his family was also from Egypt and he mentioned how he goes back to visit extended family quite often. I didn’t delude myself into thinking we were in some kind of relationship, but I did want to stay in touch. He seemed to dismiss me quite quickly, even not responding to any emails. That was my first real experience with ghosting. So when he did come to visit, I simply told him I was too busy. I wasn’t about to do what he did to me and simply ignore him, but he needed to know that his rudeness was not ok.

All of these online experiences were quite new to me. I was used to falling in “like” with guys I saw on a regular basis; not through chat and phone. It felt unnatural to me, but I wasn’t having any luck elsewhere, so what the hell.

After a string of strange online conversations with other guys, I met another guy online. I was back in the U.S. for two weeks during my year of living in Egypt. He was living in California at the time, but he grew up in Egypt. Although our first conversation left me feeling uneasy about him, he pursued me, and I gave in. My cousins also told me to “stop being so picky” and to “give him a chance.” I wish I had never listened to them. He and I spoke via Skype, chat, etc for about five months until he came to Egypt to visit his family and we met. Not only was it the most awkward meeting in my life because we didn’t know how to talk to each other in person, but I realized that I wouldn’t have been interested in him if we had met in person from the beginning. I was 26 at the time, and I didn’t understand that proximity was the most important thing for real chemistry.

Fast forward to my 30s. I’ve met lots of different people online, and have even made some friends along the way, but the vibe has shifted… for the worse.

Now that internet dating has become the norm, rules of kindness and even human decency have gone out the window. Some of my friends and I have gotten messages from guys that have opinions about our profiles, the way we dress, our professions, and even our religiosity. Although I knew FULL WELL that these jerks would never make comments like this if we were going out for coffee for the first time (or maybe some of them would), I still replied with some civility.

Not only has online dating allowed people to give unsolicited advice about our lives, but it has allowed people to completely ignore each other. If a guy clicks on the “show interest” button, then I don’t necessarily feel compelled to say anything. However, if someone messages me, even if it’s a canned message, I still respond truthfully. The main thing that really started to bother me, was how rejected I started to feel by these complete strangers. I felt that when I sent a message, it was like trying to start a conversation with them and then watching them walk away with no response like I didn’t even exist. Whenever I would share this feeling with others, I was told I was “too sensitive,” and I “expected too much.” But wasn’t I kind of supposed to expect something out of these websites? And wasn’t my being “too sensitive” allowing me to be a bit kinder to others online?

As I turned the corner into my 40s this year, I had finally started to understand the conversation I had from Cali guy years ago. The internet does not allow for the organic flow of meeting someone and having that real chemistry. It doesn’t matter the amount of complex and precise algorithms, how many questions you answer on your profile or the percentage you have in common with someone. If we were to walk into a room full of people, the conversations and attraction (both romantic and platonic) would facilitate our tendencies toward certain people more than others. Fewer people would feel fine about just ignoring someone trying to talk to them, and even fewer people would feel fine about criticizing you. Therefore you’d be able to tell who the jerks are from the beginning.

A few months ago I decided to delete all of my profiles on the many dating websites I wasted my time on over the years. The older I got, the more self-conscious I felt about my age, I got worn down by the casual meanness and opted for just hoping and praying for a more organic way of meeting someone. Being a person who feels the need to constantly control my future, this was quite the departure from my usual ways. I believe that success in everything is equal parts doing AND praying, so not incorporating the doing part is hard for me. I’m not telling everyone to suddenly give up their dating profiles – if it works for them, but it’s only had a negative effect on me. Maybe I’m “too sensitive” or maybe I do “expect too much” out of people in general, but I’m done trying to prove who I am to hundreds, thousands, millions of people who have never met me face to face.

Walk Like An Egyptian

This is from a series of excerpts from a book I’m writing.

The Presentation

Growing up in St. Louis, Missouri, there weren’t a lot of Egyptians around to socialize with. We had a small group of friends that we considered like family, but we lived in North County St. Louis with one other Egyptian family, while all of our other family friends lived in West or South County.

When I was a baby, my mother told me that people would stop and look at me and comment on how ‘exotic’ I looked. Of course I looked exotic, everyone else was either black or white in North County. We were the first Egyptians/Arabs that most people had met there. Most people knew nothing about the present-day Egyptian/Arab culture, and would imagine that ‘our home’ was where we wore genie outfits and Honda tailor-made stick shift carpets for our daily commutes.

In first grade, my teacher had asked me to talk about Egypt and Islam during Social Studies one day. I was excited for a couple of reasons: 1. I got sick of my classmates asking me if we worshipped camels; 2. I was eager to correct some ‘facts’ in our textbook, which was at least a decade old; and 3. I love(d) being the center of attention.

My mom helped me gather some props for my three-part presentation – Part 1: Ancient Egypt; Part 2: Egypt today; and Part 3: Islam. We covered the basics of what I would talk about, and how to be honest with my audience if there was a question I couldn’t answer. After all of this, I still was not prepared for what was about to happen during the Q & A.

I was on edge with excitement all day. Social studies was at the end of the day, so I paid little attention to all the other subjects, thinking about how I would present, and how eloquently I would answer their questions. I imagined a standing ovation at the end of my perfor… uh… presentation. All the other kids would be fighting over who would be playing with me at recess, and I’d be invited to all of the birthday parties. (This was back when you could pick and choose who you invited to your birthday.)

My teacher told us to put our things in our desks for social studies and not to get our books out, because we were going to ‘have a special treat.’ While she was talking, I gathered my props, leaned them on the chalkboard and started my presentation. I talked about what I had seen at the Cairo Museum, passed around some papyrus with hieroglyphics on it, talked about how my cousins and I spent our time together during summer vacation, said some common words in Arabic, talked about the five pillars of Islam, showed them what a prayer rug looked like, and talked about how we couldn’t eat pork. I was proud of how well it went, and started collecting my props when my teacher said, “Does anyone have any questions for Meriam?”

And that’s when it all went to hell.

Question: “Is it scary riding on a camel?”

Answer: “I’ve never been on a camel.”

Question: “Do you have cars there?”

Answer: “Yes, and bikes.”

Question: “Do they have cereal there?”

Answer: “Yes.”

Question: “Do they speak Spanish there?”

Answer: “No, Arabic.”

Question: “What is Arabic?”

Answer: “The language that Egyptians speak.”

Question: “What about TVs? Do they have TVs there?”

Answer: “Yes.”

Question: “Do they have radios?”

Answer: “Yes.”

Question: “Do they eat corn? spaghetti? pizza? Do they have t-shirts? sunglasses? mufflers?”

This went on for quite awhile. They just asked about random stuff for what seemed like five hours, until one of my classmates in the front asked, “What is pork?”

I told him that it was “any meat from a pig.”

Now before I continue with how this interrogation went, I should tell you that this kid was a big smart ass, and mocked everyone and everything that he could. He ended everything with “ha-ha, you (insert mockery).” I know you’re thinking Nelson on the Simpsons, but he sounded more like Bobcat.

That’s when he proceeded to list every type of meat product he knew and asked whether I could eat it or not. When he got to asking me about bacon, I said ‘no.’ In disbelief, he said, “Really? No bacon?”

“No, I can’t eat bacon. It’s from a pig,” I said.

“Ha ha, you can’t eat bacon.”

“So?”, I said.

“That’s dumb.”

“You’re dumb.”

That’s when my teacher told the class to thank me and told us to pack up for dismissal. I put all my props away, got my backpack and sat back at my desk. I sat up straight and took a quick look around the room at all my classmates. Nothing had changed. No standing ovation, no one inviting me over to their house to play after school, no birthday invitations, nothing.

As a teacher now, I realize that I expected too much from 7 year-old classmates to begin with, but as a 7 year-old at the time, I thought I would be the talk of the playground. It was disappointing. Even then, I knew they asked stupid questions, and didn’t understand what the obsession over bacon was about. We had the Pyramids, dammit! By then, I had been out of the country twice. I mean, how cool was that?!  When I bragged about that, they would respond with, “Me too, I went to Florida last summer.”

Damn public school education.

Don’t panic!

Every.  Single.  Time.  I’ve just finished a nice, long vacation, and then the reality sets in that I’m going back to work the next day.  You know you feel it, too.  Whatever day your “Sunday” might be, that feeling that begins in the pit of your stomach, that makes you not want to leave your bed, and makes you wonder how you ever got along in the real world, is unmistakable.

You try your best to be prepared for the first workday of the week, but a myriad of thoughts run through your head:

“Do I have clean clothes for tomorrow?”

“Is there anything I need to do, (reports, grading, phone calls) before I go into work tomorrow?”

“Will I get enough sleep, or should I stop by Starbucks on my way to work? Will I have time?”

Monday comes and goes, and you notice that everything went fairly well.  So what the hell was I so anxious about the night before?  And even IF there were some kinks in my day, did it merit all the nervousness?  I love my job.  I love the people that I work with.  So, what’s the problem then?  Where is the stress coming from?

According to writer Taylor Clark, author Poise Under Pressure, Serenity Under Stress, and the Brave New Science of Fear and Cool, it’s basically because we rely on social media too much, and we don’t receive enough human interaction.  He talks about this a lot in his article “It’s Not the Job Market,” and goes on to say that because we’ve lost a sense of community in the American culture, people often feel alone and therefore anxious.

I’ve read some psychologists go as far as saying that our anxiety levels have increased due to our problems being less tangible than what our ancestors had to deal with.  I don’t know about you, but I’m perfectly fine not having to fight a lion for my dinner tonight.

As a teacher, my stress comes from making sure I’m prepared for my students the next day.  It also comes from making sure I’m making enough time for myself (which I’m very bad at).

Wherever your stress comes from, don’t let it get the best of you.  I’ve been pretty good at talking myself out of any panic attack by asking myself the following question:  “What’s the worst that could happen?”

If this doesn’t work for you, here’s a good TED talk you can listen to for more advise.

Thanks for reading!