I’m 30 years old.
I’m neither married nor engaged.
I’m doing my master’s degree.

Now, let’s talk about that.
I’m doing my master’s at an Egyptian University, which means there must be two supervisors.
An old supervisor who spends most of his time in hospitals,
And a young professor.
The problem is not with the young professor, but with the old one who’s more than 75 years old,
And who miraculously survived an accident.

I’ve exceeded the number of years I’m allowed to work on my degree.
I had to embark on an administrative journey to get a one year extension.
It’s normal to ask for an extension when you’re almost done with your thesis.
A lot of people do it and it goes smoothly.
But in order for you to get it, the old supervisor must first write a report for you.
The report is then sent to the department and it goes through some administrative processes before it’s accepted.
The young professor’s approval is easily gotten after that.

I spoke to the old professor.
“Good evening, Professor. I would like to talk to you about…”
“I know, dear. I want you to finish your degree. Why would I want to delay you? Ask about the procedures then call me.”
“I already know the procedures, sir. I just need you to write me the report.”
“Okay, dear.”
“When will you be available at university, sir?”
“I’m too sick to go. I can’t leave the house.”
“Do you go to the university’s clinic?”
“I told you, dear, that I’m too sick to leave the house.”
“How will we meet then for you to write me the report?”
“You can come to my house. I’m an old man and I don’t go out. I’ll sign the report for you and you can continue the process. Good luck.”

I didn’t think there was anything fishy at that point.
A lot of professors host their students at their homes.
I thought I’d take one of my female friends and go.
Then I thought maybe it’s better to take a male friend.
That’s all I thought about.

I called him again to set a date.
“Good evening, Professor. I’m calling you with regards to…”
“Yes, dear.”
That was the beginning of the phone call, which was completely different from its end.
“You can come over anytime.”
“Okay, Professor.”
“Remind me, what do you do?”
“I’m a psychologist.”
“Good for you. How old are you?”
“Thirty years old.”
“Are you married?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not, dear?”
“It’s just the way things are, sir.”
“Perhaps it’s just your bad luck.”
“Right, sir. It’s my bad luck.”
“Okay then. I’ll make time for you. Get the papers with you. I’ll be waiting for you.
We didn’t get the chance to know each other well.
I don’t remember you, Noha.
We’ll get to know each other tomorrow.
And I’ll see your work, of course.
I want you to introduce yourself to me tomorrow.”
At the end, he said,
“Describe to me how you look, dear. I don’t remember you.”
“I’m slightly dark-skinned, sir. I’m short and I have long hair.”
“What color is your hair, dear?”
“Black, sir. Is this related to the report, sir?”
“No, I’m just getting to know you. That’s not how I imagined you looked. How much do you weigh?”
“50-something pounds, sir.”
“Are you fit? Do you have any loose skin?”
“Excuse me?”
“Listen, dear. This will remain a secret between me and you.
I’ll even write your thesis for you if that’s what it takes.
I want you to finish.
It’s up to you what kind of relationship you’d like us to have.
It could either be a fling or we could work together on your PhD as well.”

I hung up. I couldn’t believe that was happening.
I don’t want my Master’s degree if that’s the price.
I thought of telling my father and sending him to meet the professor instead of me.
But if a professor at university is doing this sort of thing, who am I supposed to complain to?
I don’t want to get my master’s degree this way.
I don’t want to hear those things.