"I would like to get to know you better."
This statement is still a source of many jokes that my husband and I reference when it came to our 'courting' months. Of course, there was no real courting or dating. After the engagement, we had to make sure we called each other when no one knew we were on the phone and the conversation always began with my husband saying, "I would like to get to know you better." And I knew it related to all levels: emotional, social, intellectual and most certainly physical.
The physical and emotional part would prove to be the most difficult, unless we escaped from the families and met. The thought entered my mind many times but I was too chicken to bring it up. He would get an impression of me that I was not ready to reveal--the crazy, spontaneous, impetuous me that wanted to let go of tradition and run away with him, only for a short while. But I knew that my father was pacing, in the recesses of my mind, waiting to see this engagement through to our marriage and he did not want anyone to muck it up, especially his own daughter, the bride-to-be.
Instead our conversations, revolved around the aftermath of the engagement and plans for the honeymoon.
Squeeze me?
Oh yes, him and I planned for our honeymoon and this became a huge joke amongst my non-Muslim friends at school. And this time the guys became part of the action.
We met at the university library one Sunday afternoon for a sociology project. I was passing around my engagement pictures when I blurted out that I was planning to go to Spain for my honeymoon. And the conversation went something like this:
John: "I heard Spain is great. A lot of architecture to look at.
Charlotte: "Ha ha. I don't think they will have time to look at the architecture!" She was winking at me furiously. I hid my face behind a textbook.
John: "Yeah, I am sure they will be busy day and night." He nudged his friend Ryan, who sat to his immediate left.
I grabbed my pictures and quickly returned them to the envelope and into my backpack. "Ok guys, this project ain't going to finish itself. Let's get started," I exclaimed, desperate to change the subject. But it was no use. It was like a train that had gained so much speed and momemtum, that it would take everything in my power to derail it.
Charlotte: "It will make for an interesting honeymoon especially if she hasn't even kissed her fiancee yet, let alone touched him." My mouth fell open and she realized her blunder. The guys did not know the details of my relationship with him. They thought we had dated.
At this point, a hushed silence fell onto the group and the blood drained out of my head. John and Ryan looked at me with gaping mouths and then quickly recovered after seeing my discomfort for the topic.
I had met them both in the beginning of the year and we had form a pretty tight knit group, sitting together in class, hanging out on campus between classes and taking turns carpooling home. But I had never spoken about my personal life to the boys in the group, fearing ridicule and judgement. Ryan had asked me out the year before and I had declined explaining that culturally I was not allowed to date. This had led to an awkward conversation with him about the politics of my religion and culture--he was not convinced and pushed harder during the year until my engagement was announced. Needless to say, he kept quiet during this interesting dialogue.
John: "I thought you knew the guy? You mean you have not dated?" I sat back in my chair and sighed. Charlotte knew the whole story but at this point, I think she wanted to hear how I would explain it...again.
Charlotte: "They see each other while being chaperoned. The honeymoon is being planned on the phone. This is part of her culture. Its how its done," she nodded at me and back at them.
Ryan folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. He was a tall guy, dark hair with deep, blue eyes and he looked over at me with an intense stare, smiling. I grabbed the papers on the table and distributed them to the group, taking my cue to start working on our project. I was the designated team lead so I wanted to take quick action, trying hard to change the topic. I knew it was futile. Ryan wanted to know everything and it seemed John pressed on for him.
John: "When are you going to Spain?"
I looked at him and then Ryan. There was some exchange going on between the guys but I could not figure out how. I looked down at Ryan's notebook to see if they had written notes to each other. Perhaps there was some 'guyspeak' that I did not know of. Girls certainly had mastered this art--communication through telepathy or body language and even the eyes. I felt as if Ryan was asking the questions, not John. However, John became the spokesperson of the group. Charlotte interjected when she could but she had broken the girl code. Even though it appeared she was defending me, her tone of voice undeniably revealed that she was unconvinced herself. I knew they would all not understand.
"I am leaving two days after we marry," I sighed. I sensed the red alert and knew where the conversation was heading.
John shook his head, incredulously. "You mean that you will only know him for two days and then you leave the country with him?"
I look over at Ryan. He stared back, perturbed, and then looked down and busied himself with the papers I handed to him earlier. Charlotte scratched her head with a pen and averted my silent stare in her direction.
John: "I know its your culture and all, but I hope you get to know him and are alone with him before you marry. That will make for an awkward wedding night!" John smiled and punched me in the arm to break my silence and awkwardness of the conversation. I shoved him back and he fell off his chair. I got up quickly to help him up. Dang. Perhaps it was getting to me. Maybe he was right.
"HEY! I was only kidding. You know if you need some practice, Ryan and I are here to give you some pointers." He laughed when I let go of him and pushed him back on the floor. When I turned around, Ryan had turned several shades of red and shot John a dirty look.
After we began working on our project and no one touched the subject of my impending nuptials and honeymoon again, I could not concentrate. I looked at my textbook to find an examples to support our argument for our project. Instead, the words floated off the page and were replaced with anxiety. How was I going to get married and fly off to Spain with someone I really did not know? Heck, I knew John and Ryan better than I knew my fiancee. Every night class we had together, Ryan would buy me a Nestea during our break. I didn't even ask him--he just knew that I loved iced tea. Even my fiancee did not know my favorite colour or birthdate. This wasn't right. If I could not alleviate my fears about marrying someone I hardly knew, how could I convince Charlotte, John or Ryan that I was making the right decision?
I had to make a list. While they were busy gathering facts for our project, I started making a list of questions my fiancee would need to ask me. I had reached Question number 23, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Ryan had gone and bought me my Nestea and I had not noticed that he paused during my question-making. And during that pause, he had reviewed my questions. He leaned down to whisper in my ear so that no one could hear him.
"I know the answer to every question on that list," he said as he put the can on the table. He moved close to me and my heart pounded. "And he will be a very lucky guy when he finds them all out." He stood up and then made his way to the other side of the table and sat down directly in front of me. He picked up his pen, put it in his mouth, looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and mouthed, Thank you. He winked and looked down at his notes. I continued to stare at him. If I was against arranged marriages, I probably would be dating him right now, I thought.
I was relieved. He understood. He did not judge or argue with me. And I knew if he could accept me, for being different from the rest of them, my fiancee would accept me for me.
I felt a little less scared that day. Because, as it turned out, even my friends who had difficulties accepting the ways of my culture and religion, were willing to accept and understand me, despite my natural fears and anxieties.
Ironically, it would be my non-Muslim friends instead of my family and Muslim friends, who in my most vulnerable state, kept vigil over me and kept me sane for the next three months...
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