Like any young man in Egypt, I dreamt of owning an apartment, starting a family, and settling down.
After I got married, God blessed me with the most beautiful girl in the world, then later on, a little boy.
My wife—the mother of my children—suddenly left after a conflict that rose between us.
She filed a lawsuit against me, in which she claimed that I damaged her property.
marriage, divorce, romantic relationships

Why is it a big deal if you call me one day and find my mobile switched off?
Where’s the problem in that?
Are people not allowed to turn off their phones?
You should’ve just let it go.
You shouldn't have made a big deal out of it.

“When do you plan on getting married?” my father, aunts, uncles, and cousins always ask me.
Or if we’re at a wedding, they always say ou’balik [may you be next].
I wonder how the elders of the family would react if I walked around at funerals and poked them, saying “Ou’balik!”

We’re not allowed to laugh in public.
We’re not allowed to be happy or dance in public.
We’re not allowed to sing in public.
We’re not even allowed to cry in public.
We’re not allowed to do anything in public.

I decided not to have any contact with men when I was 17 years old.
Some people told me, “You’ve become too conservative.”
While others told me, “May God bless you.”
And a lot of my friends stopped talking to me altogether.
But no one told me how to deal with my fiance.

I want to be free.
I want to write whatever I want.
But all married women now have red lines they can’t cross.
“Now that we live together, you have to forget about writing,”
They’re told as soon as they get married.

I now understand why they say: “When poverty knocks at the door, love flies out of the window.”
I work, I cook, I wash, I clean, and I take care of the baby.
I just can’t do it anymore.
I want a break from my life.

I don't regret anything;
I just had no idea what I was getting myself into:
the lies, the secrecy, the plotting,
the unethicality of the women of the family I was marrying into
and the blind denial of the men.

I woke up this morning feeling like… yes, shit!
I stood in front of my mirror and refused to accept the reflection it gave me.
Yes, I am indeed talking about another heartbreak.
Sleepless nights, puffy eyes, and so on.
And you have to sit right there,
And listen to me talk about it,
Because no one else would.

No one ever told me not to cry
But for some reason, I knew crying was shameful.
So, basically if you cry, you're not a real man.