Muslim Girl in America

I'm an American girl, born and raised, and a Muslim.

A Trilogy … Who Knew?

on July 13, 2012

So here we are again. Another foray into speed dating. With Ramadan coming up (more posts about Ramadan coming up in the next few weeks), the company that arranges these events decided to hold one before our month of fasting started. I didn’t have much luck last time, but you never know – this time I could meet someone. You have be optimistic about these types of things, I feel.

So after the last speed dating event, I only ended up meeting with one of the bachelors, #8, Mr. Easy-To-Talk-To. I suggested coffee – coffee is always a safe bet, my non-Muslim friends tell me. You’re not committed to anything big, like a meal that could take a couple hours, and, if the guy wants to go dutch, at least you’re not out a lot of money. He then decided on lunch (which I took as a good sign) at a place not too far from me, so I said okay. Lunch doesn’t usually last too long, and I hadn’t been to that restaurant before, though it turned out to be a restaurant/Hookah bar. I’ve never tried Hookah, as even secondhand smoke can irritate my lungs, but I’ve heard the food is good so we sit down. (He did show up late, by the way.) He then says he doesn’t want lunch only a snack and some Hookah. Okaaaay. This is why I suggested coffee. Is he suddenly appalled by my appearance? Why not lunch, which he was insistent upon? Maybe he thought he was meeting someone else, but then I showed up. I don’t know, but I decide I’m not going to miss out on the food and order what turns out to be a really yummy salad.

We talk pretty easily – so I know I have nicknamed him aptly – but he is younger than me, and he doesn’t seem to be that interested in anything long-term. Why he’s trying speed dating, I don’t know. We actually end up chatting for about 2 hours, the whole time he’s smoking Hookah and saying I should try it but “no peer pressure or anything.” He actually uses that phrase quite a bit while talking. Someone who uses that phrase that much probably wants to pressure you into something, in my experience. He picks up the check, which I like, but I have a feeling I’m not going to hear from him again. And I don’t. C’est la vie.

Round 3

So this event was less well attended, but still interesting and amusing. There were a few repeats from the last event, but none from the first I went to. Here’s a recap.

So I arrive and there’s still time before it starts so I get a glass of water and sit at the restaurant bar to watch the latest sports news. One guy, also attending the event, comes and sits down next to me and starts chatting with me. I am going to discuss this guy below, but if you can’t wait, jump to Bachelor #9.

Bachelor #1, Mr. Soft-Spoken – So this guy seemed to emanate good-guy vibes. He was always smiling, laid back, and, when he mentions he’s a child psychologist, I realize a lot about his personality. It takes a certain type of person to help kids with problems, and those people are usually kind, good-hearted, and have a lot of patience.

Bachelor #2, Mr. Late – So this guy, who tells me he is not actually a Muslim, shows up late. I am currently sitting without a gentlemen across from me because there are more women than men here (as is typical), so he gets seated across from me. We only chat for a minute, but I can tell he came because he’s interested in Muslim women (he apparently spent some time in the Middle East). While he seems nice on the outside, I have a feeling that’s a mask that hiding something underneath. And I’m suddenly very glad that none of these guys know my last name unless I want them to.

Bachelor #3, Mr. Judgmental Returns – So you can check out my blog from last time to read about him. He is still the same. As soon as he sits down he sighs (as if he’s put out for being there) and goes into a spiel about who he is. He doesn’t recognize me. Huh. For once, I am glad I’m forgettable (who wants to be remembered by a jerk?) but I interrupt him anyway and let him know that I recognize him from last time. We chat about nothing really until the bell sounds and he moves to the next table and person.

Bachelor #4, Mr. Linguistics – This guy was interesting and we had a great conversation. We are part of the same Meetup group and he remembers seeing me on the online roster. He remembers me! I take this as a good sign. He’s the same age as me, and we actually spend our time chatting about the merits of speaking our native language over English in the home and with family. He makes me laugh, which is always a gold star in my book.

Bachelor #5, Mr. Estrada – This guy seemed nice enough, and he looked like a Pakistani Erik Estrada with great hair – he looked like he stepped out of 1979, to tell the truth. He wants to move back to Pakistan, though, and it always makes me wonder why guys look for girls in America if they want to leave and go back. What’s the point?

Bachelor #6, Mr. Similar – Another nice guy with whom I ended up having a lot in common. We both essentially to do similar jobs for different non-profits, and we had an easy time chatting. He seems shy, though, and I would like to talk to him again.

Bachelor #7, Mr. Potential Returns – The other repeat from the last speed dating event. I had high hopes for this guy last time, but he just wasn’t interested. Which made it all the more surprising when he seemed really interested in me this time. I again mention my hobbies of writing, music, and travel, and again mention that I’m hoping to publish some short stories this summer and am working on a novel. All of a sudden I’m appealing – why is that? Maybe I was his second round draft pick and, since it didn’t work out for him last time, he thinks I’m a good second choice. Maybe that’s an unfair assumption to make on his part, but since I can’t read minds it seems like a logical conclusion. I remember thinking if I would give someone a second chance, as I thought with Mr. Close-Talker last time, and maybe he’s thinking along the same lines. I don’t want to be someone’s second choice, but then, in the end, does it matter? No, I decide. If two people can face the ups and downs of life and marriage together, then it doesn’t really matter how they got together in the first place. I’ll see if he contacts me, but I’m not exactly holding my breath.

Bachelor #8, Mr. Dubai – This guy spent most of the time talking about how awesome Dubai was as a city, and how much he loved living there. I ask if he might go back to live there. Probably, he replies. I’m not really interested in him, particularly now that he has said he might move to Dubai, but as the bell sounds I wish I had asked for some travel tips – I would like to visit the city myself one day.

Bachelor #9, Mr. Jerkface McGee – So this is the guy who chatted with me before the event. Yes, he was a jerk. I would like to use stronger language – particularly a word that begins with “d” and ends with “ouchebag” or another that starts with “a” and ends with … well you get the picture – but I’ll just call him a jerk.

I’ll start with our pre-event conversation. So he sits down next me at the bar, acting like he’s a big-shot, and makes a show of ordering a drink. He orders a mojito – with alcohol – and asks me “what my story is.” Okaaay. He makes a big show of paying for the drink as well, opening up a roll of cash (mostly ones) and hands several to the waitress. I notice he doesn’t tip her well. As someone who, in a past job, relied on tips for extra income, I see that as another aspect of his jerk-y personality. Unless you received the most awful service ever (which he in no way did) there is no excuse for not tipping well, in my book.

He says it’s his first time doing speed dating, I say I’ve done this before. He asks, since I didn’t meet the love of my life, why am I doing it again? To meet people, I say. He talks a lot, says a lot, asks a lot of questions, though he rarely gives me an opportunity to speak or answer the questions he’s asking. I ask him what he does, and he says he’s a lawyer. I don’t hold this against him, since I know a lot of decent lawyers, but he is the quintessential jerk lawyer we all see in the movies. Then he says, Oh, wait, I was supposed to make something up, right? We’re supposed to lie at something like this. I say, You should tell the truth. He makes up different careers, asking me which he thinks is best. I should point out that his online profile says that he is a “27 year old race car driver/deep sea explorer/avant garde painter/organic sculpter/civil lit attorney/K-pop sensation.” I only believe the attorney part; I don’t even believe he’s 27, quite frankly, much less anything else he listed. What would you do if a guy sat down and said ‘Impress Me’ he asks. I’d tell him it was nice meeting him and basically ask him to leave, I say. He says that’s not very impressive. Ass. Sorry, I meant to say Jerk.

So eventually it’s time to start the event and I walk off as the organizers seat me at Table 1 and him at another table. His turn eventually comes around to me, though, and he again starts making stuff up. He asks why it didn’t work out with anyone in the previous speed dating events I went to, and what he should do to keep a girl interested. I want to say “Don’t ever speak and you’ll be fine” but I can’t do that a fellow woman; she should know how awful he is. Besides he probably couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. In response to his first question though, I actually think about it. The number one reason was the drinking, really, but as he was drinking in front of me earlier I decide I don’t want to mean and petty and mention that. The second most reason? Probably that a lot of guys want to move back to their native country. So I mention that. He says, “So you’re driving them away. What’s wrong with you?” I sit there, fuming, and there is a good chance you may be able to see actually smoke billowing from my ears. I say, you wanted an honest answer, well that’s it. And I haven’t done anything but have a 3-4 minute conversation with them after they have made up their mind to move to another country. The bell sounds; Thank God! As he’s walking away he notices my table number. “Hey, you’re number 1!” he says. Then, moving to the next table he says, “First is worst but second is better!” The girl next to me is stunned he actually said that out loud. “Really?” I ask because I can’t believe it either. “Nice,” I say in a disdainful tone. “What?” he responds. “I didn’t make that up! Someone else said that first!” I shake my head. Ass. Sorry, I meant to say Jerk.

Bachelor #10, Mr. New to Town – We had a lot in common. Even though he had only moved to town a month ago, we’d been at some of the same concerts (though of course we hadn’t seen each other) and we talked about music for a bit – a favorite subject of mine. We ended up talking about a few other things, and I realize I wouldn’t mind talking to him again.

Bachelor #11, Mr. B.O. – This guy, while dressed okay, had clearly not taken an actual shower for a couple days and had some serious body odor (B.O.) and bad breath issues. He’s finishing up a PhD, which means he’s educated, but then says he doesn’t like America and wants to move back to Pakistan. I still don’t understand this. I know America has problems, but I LOVE living here. I loved growing up here, despite the growing pains I went through (which you can read about in my other blog). I love the people I’ve met, and it is safer than Pakistan. Don’t get me wrong. I love visiting Pakistan. I love seeing my family, and spending time with newest members of the family as well as the older ones who may not be there when I return the next time. I love the food, the clothes, and the desserts. I love learning more about my culture and traveling the land where my ancestors came from. But I know I could never live there; it’s a completely different way of living. And I am an American girl, born and raised. I will always go back, as long as I am able to, because I want my kids one day to have that same connection to our ancestors, family, and culture.

Anyway, he’s the last guy I meet with that night and he decides to hang out at my table. I say I’m just waiting for a cab, and he starts to ask me about my necklace, which is lovely and a favorite of mine, but then he’s leering at me, staring at where the necklace falls on my collarbone and his eyes are venturing south. Ugh. I’m hoping none of the other guys think I’m interested in him. I basically have my face in my phone, checking my Twitter feed, and have turned away from him even though we’re at the same table. I get a text saying my cab is here – Yay!

The evening is over and I head toward the door when it happens.

I trip.

Over a bump in the floor.

In front of the whole restaurant.

I turn around to see if anyone saw me; Yup, they sure did. I didn’t fall (I have become very good at not falling when I trip) so I brush off the incident and go outside, my head held high. Our event was in the back of the restaurant, but I saw some people looking at me. Oh, well. If a guy doesn’t like me because I tripped, well he probably won’t like me anyway; I tend to be a bit clumsy at times – it’s all part of my charm.

Until next time, my faithful readers! Thanks for reading –



3 responses to “A Trilogy … Who Knew?

  1. […] after last time I ended up meeting with Mr. Linguistics and Mr. Similar. (I should mention that Mr. Judgmental and […]

  2. […] #2, Mr. Potential Returns, Again. So this was a guy I met again at the third speed dating event. He was still the same affable gentleman. We talked about work and about how I am seeking a new […]

  3. […] again. For those of you keeping track, this is Round #7 (read up on the past events here: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6).  I don’t know why they decided to hold it over a long holiday weekend. Because of […]

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