A couple of nights ago I deleted all of my dating apps again.
“Maybe it’s time to see a therapist”, I thought to myself. What am I doing wrong? Uber drivers always tell me that I have a good heart and if I’ve learned anything from TV it’s that my happy ending should be right around the corner. But these days it seems that I’ve gotten lost in the maze of self-doubt. I don’t know what part of the story I’m in, and whatever corner I turn to is another dead-end. So… where is my happy ending??
Remembering that I still can’t really afford therapy, and that perhaps I should give this ‘writing a blog’ thing another try (although at this point I’m neither Married nor on Bumble), I pretended that my bed was a therapy couch and I started thinking out loud. Thankfully, my roommate wasn’t home to witness this, or she would have probably started a Go-Fund-Me page for me to seek professional help, so that I’d stop bitching about my romantic life (or the lack thereof).
Ok, Toos – let’s start at the root. Why do you want a happy ending? What does a happy ending mean to you?
Well, Dr. Toos, everyone deserves a happy ending and I thought that my wedding would have been it. My marriage was a carefully constructed ideal that I had created and it was me making sense of my entire world; so the fact that it crumbled after 5 years of misery was really just the story not working out. Here’s how I set it up: (because every great story has to have an epic opening):
Back in Iran, we lived on a quiet street in northern Tehran called “Golzar” – which roughly translates to “Flower Garden”. Every little alleyway, crescent, or court off of our main street was named after a flower: “Orchid”, “Violets”, “Tulip”, “Jasmine” – the perfect fairy-tale set-up!
My ex husband and his family lived on Orchid Alley, only a couple of blocks south of our 3 story apartment. We were neighbors; him and my brother went to high school together and he would sometimes come over to study. I was only 11 years old and he was one of my very first crushes. He had hazel eyes and smelled really good! To me, he was the coolest person in the entire world – because my older, teenage brother (who’s approval was/still is my ultimate goal in life #brotherissues) hung out with him.
So when the two of us reconnected on Facebook after more than a decade (thanks Zuckerberg!) I thought it made for the perfect story: Finding my happily-ever-after in a crush! Long-distance phone calls, time-differences, and the rare gift that traveled over continents and oceans to make it into my room… very “You’ve Got Mail” style. I fell in love with the story. It was too good to not be my happy ending. I got so caught up in the structure, the prose, the way it sounded, the way it looked and how it made other people feel, that I totally missed the journey (and along with it, the red flags).
Ok, Toos. Thanks for sharing! That was very brave of you. I know that you’re a writer -which reminds me…have you thought about changing your blog name? I just don’t know if the ‘Married Girl on Bumble’ makes sense anymore. You know, since technically you’re neither of those things. I know for certain that your mom has already mentioned it.
Well, Dr. Toos, ‘The Married Girl on Bumble’ is more than just my marital status and an App on my phone. It’s the name of this ridiculous therapy practice! It’s what has helped me through many nights of doubts and fears. It’s me terrified of being judged but also promising to be 100% genuine. It’s a celebration of my freedom – so the name stays!
I think that’s great Toos! I’m sure a lot of your fans (including your mom) will be satisfied with that answer. Let’s go back to how you use ‘story’ to make sense of your life. I think you’re getting too caught up in telling your life and are less bothered by actually living it and just being present. Can you think of other examples where you’ve done that recently?
Yes! I always do that!!! I set myself up for an epic story and always get disappointed. Here’s a more recent example:
It was Christmas Eve and I was home visiting my parents in Markham. Lounging by the fireplace pretending to read a book but actually being on Bumble, I came across a profile I knew. I took a breath, closed my eyes and swiped right. Matched! My heart started racing! He was talented, handsome, successful, and so sweet! The only reason we had matched was because we were both in Markham visiting family during the holidays (what are the chances???)! We texted all Christmas Day and planned our first date a week from then. Our date went well – it was familiar yet exciting: we had so much in common: both of us separated after a 5 year marriage, both going back to school, doing things outside of our comfort zones and just living life. Our entire relationship consisted of four weeks of texting, one actual date, one accidentally-running-into-each-other-and-blushing, and then one last message from him that said “I’ve met someone else”. But… what about my happy ending?? What about the magic of Christmas, and going back to school and growing together, and being each other’s second chances? None of it was real. The only reality was him having met someone else, while I was here writing up a fantasy. How do I stop doing that? How do I separate the fact from the fiction? The writer from her work? How do I stop from causing myself so much pain? How do I stop making sense of the world through stories when life seems to be a series of random events?
You just do! You leave the fantasies for blogs and your writing classes. You keep the same promise of being genuine with how you feel, as you do when you write. You check in with your gut. You stop creating fantastical stories after mediocre dates. You stop focusing on the one aspect that’s not working, and instead highlight everything else that is. You keep checking in and then you move on.
The Married Girl On Bumble 