This Cracked Chest: Entries of a Muslim Hijaby

On the boy I fell hard for

The one thing I've always wished for - which I realize almost every girl wishes for, no matter race or religion or culture - is someone to love. You know, romantically.

I hadn't had any luck before my first year of college. Guys I liked either were jerks or just not interested. I'd never been in a "relationship" and never had really fallen in love. A part of me, now that I'm older looking back, thinks that this was a very stupid phase. During this phase, I brought myself down. I made myself feel worthless. But now I know that this isn't stupid. And I'm not worthless. Sometimes things in life don't work out just because God doesn't want them to. What am I going to do about it? Cry forever?

As a freshman, I didn't think I'd find anyone to love. My college has a Muslim Student Association and there are plenty of Muslims, but I had a certain nonexistant guy in mind. None of the Muslim guys at my school fit the image in my head.

So I thought the guy I ended up liking was the last person I'd ever fall for.

Let's call this guy Mentor - because I met him at a leadership program for incoming freshman. I'd signed up for the program for God knows why - I'm an "over-achiever". What I realized afterward was the only thing I got out of this program was falling in love. Life works like that.

So, incoming freshman who'd signed up for this program were circling around the room, meeting potential mentors. It was almost like meeting your Big at a sorority. At the end of the speed "dating", you selected three people, one of which would become your mentor.

I went around, found a really nice Indian guy. He was friendly and funny and loved the show Scandal. This is it! I said to myself. This is the guy! He loves Olivia Pope?! What better match can I find?

Unfortunately, we had two more turns to go. The next guy was a Filipino. He was nice, but eh. He seemed like he really wasn't into this whole program thing. We didn't click. At the end, I thanked him. And he said, "You gotta meet this guy! You'll like him!" And he directed me toward his friend sitting on the couch in front of us.

So I sat down. Said hello. Mentor was tall, with an awkward friendliness, and what my friends would describe as a "puppy dog" face. The first thing he said after, Hey, how's it going was, "Are you Muslim?"

I was sort of glad he'd asked. People often assumed I was Muslim because of my hijab, so it was refreshing for someone to ask me whether I was or not. Something new, just like him.

"Yeah, I am," I said. "You?"

"Yeah."

Then we just got into talking. I can't even remember what we talked about. We just kept going about the Arab community and what we wanted to do in our lives and our parents - and I realized very quickly that this guy liked to talk about deep shit. Freaked me out.

After talking to him, our speed "dating" was over, but I'd soon learn that this conversation wasn't.

I listed his name last - and I could feel, somewhere in my heart, that something was going to happen. Nothing bad nor good. Just something. But I put his name as my third choice anyway. I liked him, but I got along with the Indian guy way more. If I was going to see Mentor again, I wouldn't need to work for it. God would just bring him to me.

A week later, we got our assigned mentor, one that we'd selected from our list. When I looked at who they had paired me up with, I froze.

Indian guy came over. He said, "This is weird. I put your name down first."

"Same," I said. "I put yours first, too."

"Yet I didn't get paired with you...huh...weird."

It was so weird, I agreed. It was even weirder that I didn't even get paired up with my second choice. I got paired up with my third.

I got paired up with Mentor.

--

Mentor was older, mature, knew what he wanted in life. I got that vibe from him the second time we met. Mentors and mentees had to meet up to "discuss" "college" and "exchange" "advice". Nobody really followed the rules. Some people didn't even like their mentor. I didn't think Mentor would ever text me or even have time for me.

But I knew Allah was working His magic when I kept running into M for no reason. I'd see him at the cafeteria. On campus going to class. At the library. Eventually, he stopped me on my way to breakfast one morning and was like, "Hey, we should meet up. For the program."

Right, for the program, I convinced myself. He gave me his number. I texted him my first and last name. We agreed to meet up soon. I moved on with my life.

Then one day in class I got a text: "Hey. Free tomorrow for dinner?"

I was surprised. I didn't think this was like a thing-thing. Like, he was going to invite me out and we were going to sit alone and talk alone. I'd never been on a date in my life - but...this wasn't a date so...why did I think it was?

We met up at Chipotle. I remember looking at myself in the mirror beforehand and thinking, damn, I look hot. Even though I wear the hijab and am supposed to be modest.

I wasn't nervous, though. This was just a guy. I was going to be myself. He was going to give me advice. I was going to go back to my great single life. I wasn't going to raise my expectations or think anything of this meet-up.

I did good, honestly. Was totally emotionless about our "meeting". He paid for my food, which I thanked him by paying for his dessert. Like, ice cream from Mitchells - that kind of dessert.

And the weird thing wasn't that I'd almost dropped my plate embarrassingly and he laughed at me like I was cute. The weird thing wasn't that we'd spent more than two - or was it three? - hours together, late into the night. The weird thing wasn't that I was comfortable in my own skin and that he made me feel special.

The weird thing was this: we talked about more than just classes and hobbies and our "leadership skills". We talked about life. He told me about his parents and how much he missed them. He said things like, "I just wish I could go home and hug them, you know? I haven't hugged them in a long time." He talked about screwing up a couple times during Freshman year, drinking and smoking and the whole bit, and then realizing later that it just wasn't him. He talked about applying to dentist schools and how his dad was so nervous for him, he bought him extra envelopes to send copies of his application.

I said things, too. And though I knew myself pretty well, I could tell that I just wasn't on his maturity level yet. He had his whole future planned. He wanted to become a dentist, get married, and have a lot of kids. I could barely choke out what I wanted to do with my life career-wise. Either teaching or speech pathology, I told him, but that was such a lie.

"I love kids," I said at one point, after he mentioned his life plan. After the night ended, I banged my head against the wall for ever saying things like that. I love kids?! Really? Why don't I just wear a sign on my head saying I am desperate. Marry me?!

But I was just joking with myself - I wasn't desperate. I was just me, single.

Eventually, we walked to our dorms. He was my friend, I told myself. "Thanks for dinner," I said to him.

"Thanks for the ice cream," he replied. "I guess we'll get in touch soon, then, to meet up again. For the program."

"Yeah," I said. "Definitely. For the program."

For the program, I convinced myself. It had been a long time since I'd lied to myself.