The More Things Change…
The more they stay the same. Ugh.
Don’t mind me, I’m cranky because I’m sick and I have a slight fever and the area around my right kidney hurts and I have to wait till 9 AM so I can find a doctor that will see me today. But that’s not the real reason for this post. Nope, the real reason is because my parents cease to amaze me.
As I mentioned in my last post, life is good. My relationship with the Mister is amazing, I’m living in New York City, I have a nice gig for the summer, and even my parents are behaving. Or so I thought.
On the surface, I had good reason to think that my parents and I were coming to some sort of understanding, where its recognized that I’m living my life a certain way and though they don’t necessarily agree with that, we all value each other enough to attempt to not let that get in the way. An unspoken compromise of sorts. I mean, they’ve met the Mister, he’s gone over the house more than once, he gets along with both my mom and dad, and they ask about him. I know they didn’t care for my ex, the Russian, but he didn’t care for them either. This time around it’s different, right? A reasonable person would have thought that things were different. The Mister respects my parents and respects their religion (which is more than I can say), and has taken the initiative to meet my parents even though he knows what he’s up against. And for their parent, it appeared that my parents were willing to consider the fact that although he may not be Muslim, the Mister is a good, responsible, caring man, and maybe they didn’t have to worry or judge too much.
Or so I thought.
I didn’t go into detail in my last post, but I’m moving in with the Mister, that’s why/how I’m moving to Manhattan. Now I know some of you may think, “didn’t you live with the Russian before and you guys broke up and look what happened!” To answer you, yes, I’ve cohabited before and it didn’t work out, but past performance does not guarantee future outcome. If anything, the Mister and I have both cohabited with others and recognize and understand the possible outcomes and consequences of our decision to live together. We’ve talked with each other extensively about the decision, and have been upfront with each other about our concerns and worries, as well as our hopes and optimism. I believe that I made a balanced, well thought out decision.
While in the process of making that decision, I “lived” with the Mister since he moved into the apartment in late March. During that time, my parents (at least my mother) were aware that I was spending more time in NYC, that I had moved my cat to the city, and that I was considering subletting my apartment until the end of my lease in November, or simply breaking my lease during the summer. For all intents and purposes, they had reason to know or believe that there was a good possibility that I was living in New York City, or would be in a short period of time. Interestingly enough, my mother somewhat encouraged it, even emailing friends & coworkers to find someone to sublet my apartment. I’ve mentioned moving to NYC with my dad, and while he wasn’t thrilled, he said he know I’m going to do what I think is best for me and left it at that.
Anyways, I talked with my father this past Monday and mentioned that I showed my apartment to a prospective tenant and would likely be able to break my lease without losing my security deposit (so long as the new person is approved). He then told me that he was extremely disappointed in me and that his respect for me and for the Mister has fallen.
To be honest, I expected my dad to be disappointed, but I was really shocked when he said that he respected me less. He said that the Mister and I should do the right thing and get married right now, because if we don’t, the Mister will never marry me because I make it easy for him not to. He even used the ever-so tacky cliche of “why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free.”
And of course the conversation/reprimand/lecture wouldn’t be complete without my father summoning the wrath of Allah and informing me that because of my transgressions, Allah would surely punish me. “Allah has blessed you and provided for you, but you continue to turn your back on him, and he will see to it that you get what you deserve.”
The majority one-sided conversation continued in that vein, with my father admonishing me to “do what’s right” and keep my apartment in NJ and pray so that I would find my way back to the right path. I told my father that while I recognize his views, I do not agree with them and frankly, at this point, the Mister and I are too busy/poor/stressed/etc to get married, we’ve discussed it. I also alluded ot the fact that I might not want to take marital advice from him, seeing as how my parents have had many an up and down over the years (yes, I know all marriages have ups and downs, but in this instance I know what I’m talking about).
Eventually the conversation was over, and I sat in my half empty apartment stunned. “Maybe I pushed this on them too fast, maybe I should have waited”, I thought. Then I realized that when it comes to romantic relationships, until (if) I am married, my parents will always have a bone to pick , and that it will likely continue even after I’m married, since I won’t be marrying a Muslim. It saddens me that this is the way that things are, I guess for now this is the way things have to be. My parents aren’t going to bend much further than they have, which hasn’t been much; and I’m not interested in living a lie again, just to make someone else happy.
So yet again, we have to agree to disagree. Maybe this will change, maybe it won’t. As long as I’m true to myself, I know I’ll be alright.
