Three Years Left

“Guys like you, you know,” he told her once upon a time. “Many thinks you’re not so bad, but they don’t approach you because they see you and they see a person who holds dearly to her religion.”

She laughed, “I suppose that’s a good thing.”

But she wishes someone had tried.

“Is that your boyfriend?” a curious fan asked.

She laughed, “God, no.”

“You seem really close.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You can say the truth.”

“He’s not! He’s a nobody, I promise. I don’t date, remember?”

Yet she wishes he could be something more.

“I’m asking her out, what do you think?” an ex-boyfriend came.

She spat as icily as she could, “Just remember why I broke up with you in the first place.”

She was glad she ended things if this was how he became.

“Come on, I like you, go out with me,” a familiar plea sounded.

She frowned in annoyance, “I told you, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not allowed,” she hissed. She’s too tired of explaining it again and again to the ignorant.

“By who, your parents?”

Oh brother! She huffed and turned, ready to leave the guy alone.

“Wait!” He stopped her. “Fine, I get it, religious reasons.”

“Right,” she nodded stiffly.

“How are you going to get married then if you can’t date?” He was curious, just like everybody else.

She sighed, nobody seemed to understand. “I’ll just date the guy I marry.”

“When are you planning on getting married?”

“18.”

“That’s fresh out of high school.”

“I know.”

“But I’m not ready to marry you by then.”

“Then don’t,” she laughed.

“Why not 24?” he whined.

She stifled a laugh, “Sorry, I’m not staying single that long. I really do want to be able to love.”

“Bummer.”

If only people understand.

“I’m telling you, don’t waste your youth away for things like marriage,” a friend tried to advise. “Enjoy your youth while it last.”

“How, going to parties? Taking crazy wild road trips? Going to concert? That’s not me,” she shrugged. “I prefer going on dates or having picnics under the stars with my husband.”

“What if you get divorced?”

“I won’t. God knows the best, alright?”

“Listen to me, don’t go collecting ex-husbands around. I think society will accept ex-boyfriends better.” He scoffed.

She chuckled, “I want to spend my youth with someone I get to love. What’s the difference between boyfriend and husband anyway? They’re all the same.”

“This is 2015, dude. Marrying at 18 ain’t normal.”

And the Quran’s rule is timeless, she wanted to say. She didn’t, though. She was already a weird enough person as it is.

“So, rumor has it, they got together.”

She looked up from her phone for a second, and then returned back to her phone, ignoring the tightening feelings in her chest. “I see.”

“I can tell you liked him,” a friend noted. “He liked you too.”

She smiled, “That doesn’t mean anything, now, does it?”

Her friend sighed. “That’s really how far things can go with you, isn’t it? You like a guy, the dude likes you back, and then that’s it.”

“That’s it,” she agreed. “There really isn’t any point in trying to ask me out.”

“Yeah, you’d say no anyway.”

“Exactly,” she agreed.

“I pity all the guys who harbors a crush on you,” he leaned against the wall.

“Me too.”

“If only you were just like us.”

She laughed, “And where will that get me?”

“Hell, probably.”

She shook her head at her friend’s antics and gave a sigh. “Three years left,” she murmured.

Three years left, and then people can be quiet and shove their own craps up their asses.