*Phone buzzes*
“Don’t take this the wrong way. But you’re so beautiful and kind… Why are you single?”
I’m walking through a museum full of ancient history in a tight black dress on a Friday night. I take out my phone and his text makes me smile. Confused and flattered, with a drink in one hand, I start typing with the other:
“Well… I haven’t been single for long. I also don’t quite know what I want. I think I’ve gotten stuck on this ‘you’ll know when it’s right’ bullshit. Why are you still single?“
“I’m emotionally unavailable”
Previous me would have found that charming: A broken soul wanting to be fixed. A wild animal I could tame with my positive outlook on life and an immense supply of love to provide him with. I could fix every little issue – my own little IKEA Fuckboy I could turn into a REAL boyfriend. An exciting prospect: a refurbished man that loves even better than before! I quickly check in with my gut: no butterflies! So I roll my eyes and think “oh god…. another one of those” or what they call a box of red flags in the dating world now. I’m way too beautiful and kind to not want emotional availability in my partner.
“A wise girl will only settle for less once in her lifetime”.
Speaking of museums and ancient history, my husband was over an hour late to our marriage ceremony. A year before our wedding, on April 29th, 2013, we had this private, little family gathering at my grandmother’s house to officiate our marriage. We had decided to expedite the ceremony by a week because of some sort of scheduling issue. We called up the officiant and he let us know he was available that afternoon. After an initial shock of about 5 minutes, I ensured my whole family that I wanted to go through with it and that I was SO ready and SO excited!!! As my mom and aunts got busy in the kitchen, I ran across the street to the infinite boutique stores of east side Tehran – the city I was born and raised in, and frantically searched for anything white. 20 minutes later – and an hour before everyone else showed up, I came home with a white flow-y, short dress and put my hair up in a fancy ponytail.
I waited. And Waited. And waited. And waited…
My husband finally showed up after we’d served multiple cups of tea, and everyone had a chance to tease me a dozen times about how he had ran away. A few minutes later, as I signed my life away (or at least 5 good years of it), I tried to take a mental note of how I was feeling. I thought I would want to relive that experience over and over again for the rest of my life- so I searched frantically for some sort of assurance, but all I could find was emptiness. There were no butterflies! I swallowed my worries and diagnosed them as “cold feet”. I grabbed the pen, took a deep breath and stroked it against the blinding white space. It felt… so insignificant, like signing a bank receipt. That was me settling for less, hoping that he’d be on time for every other major event in our now-shared lives.
I was so naive. I got on the train waaaaay too early and had to get off at my stop before everyone else even jumped on. Now I’m wandering around the empty station, trying to make the best of it. So I read, and observe, and listen to podcasts and write, and occasionally date, waiting for that first wave of divorces to hit! A train full of fresh marriage cynics, who are just the right amount of damaged to be interesting, but not to be rescued… Exactly what I’m looking for.
“Are you still on your Sex and The City dating cleanse?”
As I’m walking through the fossils, overwhelmed by the history behind the artifacts and in my uncomfortably achy but sexy boots, I wonder about female dinosaurs and if they had ever had to settle for less. I answer my friend:
“Yes!! Well… No. I mean sorta. I’m not on the Apps anymore, and I am watching the show religiously. But I am dating!” I couldn’t think straight or answer her properly because it felt like all of my energy in the last hour had been spent on not looking like I’m being tortured by my footwear.
“Oooooh who are you dating???”
“Nobody… I meant to say I would go on dates if I met someone and thought we had a real connection. But that’s been impossible nowadays” I quickly glance around at the crowd; hoping these boots will finally do the trick and catch the attention of some cute, cultured guy who has decided to spend his Friday night looking at ancient history – like me!
“Do you miss Bumble?”
“I did at first. But it’s a tedious, full-time job to be constantly funny and ‘on’. Honestly, just putting your hair down all day to avoid hair-tie-crease takes patience, resilience and strength.” I tuck my hair behind my ears and then quickly undo it – because my side-bangs look nicer when they are partially covering my eye. “I just want to skip to the 8th date where I can have my hair in a bun and enjoy some Ramen while mildly making fun of how it’s already passed my bedtime at 10 pm.”
I desperately look at my hair tie around my wrist: maybe I could pull off a messy bun? I try to distract myself with a sip from my gin and tonic. Disappointed, I look down… These boots seem like a total waste right now! Ugh let’s not get stuck on this pit of despair though; let’s pretend everyone is taking a break from dating to reevaluate his life or to reconnect on a deeper level with Carrie Bradshaw.
The immense pressure of my toes being squished together has made it unbearable to breathe. I begin daydreaming about the moment I get into the car and can finally unzip these evil, sexy boots. Pain is all I can think about right now. As I’m waiting for my Uber, I automatically switch having my weight on one foot and then the other. I take out my phone and start typing: “You know what is agonizing? Mediocre dates! I’m not even talking about wanting-to-stab-yourself-with-the-fork-so-you-could-have-an-excuse-to-leave awful time. I’m not content with an OK time! I want extraordinary. I want to have my sexy boots and wear them too.”
In a way, my boots are a metaphor for my marriage – they looked great from the outside, but caused me so much pain and misery on the inside. The good news is that my wounds have been healing, I’m making up for lost times and I’ve learned to NEVER settle for anything less than what my kind, beautiful ass deserves!
The Married Girl On Bumble 
Uhhh emotionally unavailable?
So what are you? A zombie? So what are you doing on a dating app then?
I swear some guys are so stupid.
The example about the boot is so real. At least you took the boot off and didn’t let the injuries take over all your body… 5 years seems a lot but it’s not a lifetime… you should be so proud of what you did… to stand up for yourself like that, and not letting your self drawn in comfort zone, and later telling your kids, that you didn’t divorce their father for them, and make the kids always feel guilty just because you weren’t strong enough to do the right thing for yourself.
When ppl say don’t settle down, some might think, you gotta catch the best person on the planet. (Good looking, rich, kind, good family, generous, educated and etc) but what it really means is don’t pick a wrong guy, dude. Pick the person who makes you happy. Doesn’t mean he has to have the all 57896 things on your check list, but someone who you can rely on in a stressful event, you can talk to them, you can sleep with them, they treat good.
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