Journey to 'I do'

Chapter 2

3 days after meeting Muhammad I finally woke up to a text message from him this morning on instagram.

- Salam A'isha.

Did your text take  a scenic route? Or did you just stop for a coffee break? 😀

Lmaoo sorry for the detour! I blame it on my text gps malfunctioning. Seems like someone was really eager to speak with me?

lol you wish. How have you been?

Alhamdulillah I have been fine and you? How's packing going?

It's going well thanks for asking. How was your trip back to the buj?

The buj?? You're sooo weird. Who says that? 😂
It was fine tho thanks for asking.

Lmao doesn't it sound cool?

We continued to chat about random things for the next 30 minutes straight before I had to bring it to an end. I have an appointment at the bank in about an hour and I needed to get ready to leave. I can't help but keep thinking about my conversation with Muhammad.

As I navigated through the busy streets, the echo of our conversation lingered in my mind. There was something refreshingly genuine about the way Muhammad engaged in banter, and the nickname 'Adam' seemed to add an extra layer of familiarity to our growing connection.

The bank visit was uneventful, and as I stepped back onto the sunlit streets, I felt the warmth of anticipation for what the day might unfold. With a quick glance at my watch, I realized that time was slipping away, and so were the minutes to engage in more of those lighthearted exchanges with Muhammad.

The rhythm of the day carried me through various errands, the hum of conversation with bankers and clerks filling the air.

It wasn't until I found a quiet corner at a local café to grab a quick bite that I allowed myself to delve back into our chat. Amid bites of a sandwich and sips of coffee, our conversation continued. He shared stories from his day, and I filled him in on the mundane details of mine. It was a digital dance, an exchange of words that created a bridge between our two worlds.

I have never been interested in guys that much. I don't date and I don't go on dates, In my 23 years of life I had never been on a date, so funny and probably crazy at the same time. I had always fantasized halal love and have always harbored a quiet fantasy, a whimsical dream that whispered through my thoughts like a gentle breeze. I dreamt of a man named Muhammad, a name infused with the sacred echoes of the Islamic tale that had captivated my heart since my teenage years. The story of the prophet Muhammad (SAW) and his young wife, the mother of all, A'isha (RA).

If a guys name was Muhammad he automatically became 5% more interesting. But unfortunately for me, most guys I've met with that name are the complete opposite of a "good" man.

**Flashback**
A year ago, in the vibrant city of Lyon, I found myself at an LVMH job dating event, surrounded by the allure of luxury and the prospect of promising connections. It was there that I met this Muhammad guy, he was from Algeria, of course. France is full of North Africans.

Our initial conversation sparked interest. Muhammad seemed engaging, sharing insights and aspirations that resonated with my own. Little did I know that beneath the surface of charm lay a mindset that left me upset, and I rarely get upset.

One evening, our conversation took a turn into murky waters. We were having a causal chat on instagram as we had been doing for a couple days now, his words were laced with stereotypes and a mindset that left me questioning the foundation of our interaction.

He casually remarked, "You know, A'isha, a woman's true worth lies in her ability to conform to her parents and husbands expectations. Beauty is her primary currency. It's just how life is. the faster a woman accepts this the easier her life will be"

Shocked, I countered his viewpoint, highlighting the importance of intellect, character, and individuality. Yet, Muhammad persisted, revealing a mindset that seemed entrenched in outdated beliefs.

Feeling the weight of disappointment, I blocked him to preserve my own sense of worth and self-respect.

As time passed, I encountered more individuals with the name Muhammad who shared similar perspectives or proved to be players in the intricate dance of relationships. These experiences left me guarded, cautious not to let my hopes soar too high when encountering another "Muhammad."

My best friend told me to be "more open to guys with other names," but I prayed for a guy with this name and I didn't doubt the possibilities of Allah. One thing I won't do is imagine a limit to what Allah can do for me.

So, as the latest Muhammad entered my life, a cautious optimism accompanied our interactions. The echoes of past encounters served as a reminder to tread carefully, to discern the authentic from the deceptive. My guard will always be up, I'd have lost my mind if I ever trust a man 100%.

I got home late that night as I had run a couple more errands to buy some stuff my family had asked for at Harrods. I was feeling exhausted and decided to order food while I took out my ice cream from my freezer, just trying to enjoy the last moments of my own company. I can't believe after living alone for 5 years, enjoying silence and not trying to change my bad habits like eating super late, having ice cream for breakfast, starving myself unintentionally and, leaving dishes overnight cause I get too tired, I was now going back to my fathers house. My mother would never let me not have a proper breakfast, and she would flip if she knew how much I ordered out instead of eating "Abincin gida." (Home food).

The pinnacle of romance in my life? Well, that was the enchanting exchange I shared with over 300 delivery guys scattered across Europe.

*Uber Eats notification gracefully graces my screen*
Delivery guy: "I'm here."
Me: "I'm coming."

Ah, there's truly no sweeter symphony in life! And just when I am on the brink of diving into broke-ness, I enter Deliveroo. Because, let's face it, anything related to food will never do you wrong! Unless, of course, it's a certain white gentleman attempting to craft "french" pasta. Bless their hearts, but spices seem to be an elusive secret in that culinary journey.

I ate my chicken wings while watching the 2004 desperate housewives show for the second time. I love this series!
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-Aïcha