"How’s your love life?” she asked.
I forced a laugh.
The question embarrassed me.
She insisted that I was a romantic and that apparently my whole family were romantics.
"You know,” she began, “if you want to get married, I could bring you a lot of suitors to meet.”

Inside me exists a traditional girl,
Whom I call Souad.
Souad dreams of meeting “the one”.
She wants a groom, a wedding, etc.
She lives in this fantasy world,
And dreams up every little detail of her wedding.
And when she listens to certain songs,
She imagines dancing to them at her wedding in her white dress.
romantic relationships, marriage

I want the kind of bravery that doesn’t come with jealousy or envy.
I don’t want him to be intimidated by my success.
I want him to care for me.
I want him to confess his love to me.
I don’t want him to be nervous or shy.

I stopped hearing about her a long time ago.
When I found out that she was in a relationship,
With someone who was prepared for marriage,
And that they were intending to get married,
I withdrew in a nice manner and wished her all the best.
I mean I know my luck:
I am always too late.

I found myself forgetting about the music,
And the fitting Fayrouz lyrics streaming from my earphones.
Forgetting about the book in my hands,
And forgetting my desire to improve my English.
I gazed at her face.

“Why can’t I go tell him: I love you and I want to marry you?”
“Have you lost your mind? How could you do something like that?”

Why is he treating me that way?
A question I never found an answer to.
His mood changes almost every day.
Whenever he feels that I’m attached to him through my actions or through wanting to be with him all the time,
He suddenly changes.
romantic relationships

I’m starting to believe that men see women merely as something that serves their pleasure.
Very few of them treat women as human beings,
Who have their own dreams, and desires,
And could be useful in things other than pleasure.
And you should ask me about men,
Because she who raises a monkey knows their games!
gender violence, hijab, romantic relationships, parents, social pressure, sex, body image, sexuality, consent

My upbringing was very conservative and restrictive,
The house and Amm Salah’s supermarket at the end of our street were my limits.
Just these two.
From kindergarten to the second or third grade
I went to an Islamic school.

She’ll welcome you with a wide smile: “Hair or beard?”
Then she will burst out laughing: “We’re barbers too, but female barbers!”.
Most probably this is how you’ll get to know Hayam, through her “hair or beard” question.
She won’t care if this is your first time or your hundredth.