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By Kausar Ahmed

Once Upon A Time, I came to the stage in my life where I couldn’t help but notice that everyone around me was getting married. It’s even harder when you go on a Muslim bridal page on Instagram and see all the beautiful brides with their handsome husbands and beautiful smiles. Often times I shake off the feeling of loneliness by praying and constantly reminding myself when it is time for me to marry, by Allah’s grace I will . And yet I can’t help but think… are my standards too high?

Is there something wrong with me wanting someone whose Islam is better or on the same level as mine? Is it weird that I want to marry someone who will find me funny and play fight with me? Is it too much for me to pray for someone who won’t talk down to me as if I’m less than them and will think I’m intelligent? Is it not sweet that I want someone to lead as I pray behind them during Fajr prayer? Is there something wrong in my desire to even get married in the first place?

These are questions I ask myself from time to time when I think about the man I want to marry. But then I realize that marriage isn’t just about the husband being good enough for the wife; the wife must also be good enough for the husband. Maybe that is why I’m not married yet. It could be me. I could be the one who has to get my life together before my husband appears out of thin air. At least, I wish he would.

Then I wonder if my future husband thinks about me. Does he pray about me the way I pray about him? Has he gotten marriage proposals only to turn them down because he hasn’t found the one yet? Do I know him? Have I seen him somewhere before? Then I get scared that maybe I missed my chance and will spend the rest of my life in a big house with 3 cats. I mean, it wouldn’t be that bad. After all, it’s not like marriage is  the equivalent of HALF OF YOUR ISLAM.

When I start on my marriage tirade, I usually go on for a good hour. I call up a friend and whine to her about how I’ll never find my habibi (my beloved). Sometimes I spice it up and lightly bang my head on the wall and then fake cry (just for dramatics of course, I’m in real despair here). Or I’ll do the unthinkable and ask my mom if… no I don’t. When I’ve calmed down, I remember Allah once again and remind myself that He knows what is best for me and that I should just focus on my education.

I then proceed to sit back down on my throne (this rocking chair), put my crown (hat) back on and resume being the Queen of my kingdom (my room of course). Oh, and I live happily ever after.

The End.

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