Memoirs of a Single Guy

Note: This post was written 13-Apr-2007 in an airport on my laptop while waiting for my flight back home to Chicago from Houston.

Well, here I am. At the fantabalous George Bush Intercontinental Airport here in rainy, humid, but still-better-than-Chicago-weather-wise Houston, Texas. I’m waiting for my flight back home which is still hours away. The Chicago Team thought that we would try to catch an earlier stand-by flight, but an unwise lunch stop at Godfather’s Pizza – not my idea – killed that possibility. So now we get a few hours of quality time to spend with each other waiting at our gate. Joy.

Okay, so I don’t mean to sound all too sarcastic about the current outlook. Fortunately, I get along with my colleagues really well. I worked with one of them in my previous job, in fact, so it’s all good. The Chicago Team, by-the-by, is not a large task force by any means; we are only three employees large including me [insert fat jokes here]. We’re a new division in an existing office for my company and they're looking at us to grow it considerably (inshaAllah).

Anyway, let’s jump right into the point of today's entry: the older I get the more I realize that I’m single. Not only are most of my friends now married, engaged, or “spoken for,” but everyone at work is, too. Now, don’t get me wrong here, folks. I’m not getting on a soap box here crying about my situation. I just get a kick out of it. Namely because – like with people at work – people can’t relate to my singleness anymore. Or perhaps I can't relate to their non-singleness...
The first thing, for example, my manager does when we sit at our gate is call up her husband. And then later on her mom. The first thing my other co-worker does is call up his wife and talk to his sons. “Hey, Honey. How are you? I’m at the airport now with the rest of the team. We still have a few hours, but I’ll see you soon. Also, is it okay if I go use the bathroom?” Alright, obviously the last question I just randomly threw in there, but I'm making an important point. These married folks give updates to their significant others on every possible fricken minute detail. They have been programmed by their counterpart to think as a collective unit. They're like the Borg minus the cybernetics. It's disgusting, really...“Hey, Honey. I just used the bathroom. Yeah, it was okay. No, I’m fine. Now I’m watching CNN on the lounge tv and picking my nose, too. I know you hate that, but that's what I'm doing right now. And now I'm breathing. Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated, Imran.”

Meanwhile, back on Planet Earth, where I’m sitting a few seats away the first thing I go for is my BlackBerry. I check work email (standard practice for anyone that has one; BlackBerry = CrackBerry) and then immediately play Brick Breaker to kill time. When my colleagues are done giving their play-by-play updates to their better halves, they will talk endlessly about, “Yeah, my wife Jane is going crazy, Imran. We’ve been gone ALL week and she can’t believe that we didn’t get an earlier flight. Like I want to be here any more!”

I would think to myself, You don’t?! We’re in 80 degree weather and you’re in a rush to get back home to a nagging Jane and some little runts who are expecting cheap little gifts that you just bought at that overly priced gift shop in the airport? Instead, I reply back, "Yeah, Joe. It’s been a long week, man."

And it has been a long week. A long week of Imran listening to EVERYONE talking about what they do with their kids to discipline them. A long week of Imran listening to how these people have figured it all out (the secrets of raising the perfect kid) and how Neighbor X or Brother-in-Law X think they figured it out, but really haven’t because their kids are sooo spoiled. As the only single, non-child possessing human in the room, I felt like my mom put me through an episode of the Twilight Zone just so she could make a point: Go get a girl, go get married, go get me some grandkids.

[Disclaimer on behalf of my mom: She really isn’t the push over like that. I mean, it’s not to say that she’s not wanting us to not get married asap, but she’s not like the mother of an “aging” 27 year old daughter wanting her to get married like four years ago, thankfully. Oh to be a woman! Such misery!]

Oh man. Breaking News: So, like I prefaced above, I’m writing this all while waiting at the gate, right? So, my manager and co-worker went to grab something to eat. My manager comes back alone and just told me, “Yeah, Joe is coming back soon. He’s on the phone with his wife.” See!! It’s not me, people. I’m not making this stuff up. Who cares about the small point that his wife is pregnant and he’s being a good husband by checking in with her? Pray tell, mate, who cares?! I’m sure he’d be doing the same friggen thing if she wasn’t pregnant!

Getting back to my long week: So for a good 40 minutes, during our lunch break, everyone in training was talking about the adventures of potty training. Let me repeat that: So for a good 40 minutes, during our lunch break, everyone in training was talking about the adventures of potty training. (Or in some cases, the misadventures of potty training.) I mean, WTF?! I would occasionally interject a polite, “Hahaha. Those crazy kids! They’re so smart!” But as a single guy, which can be stamped on your forehead at times or, more appropriately in some settings, a big scarlet “S” sewn to your shirt for “single,” you have to be careful what you say. Because the old, disgruntled folks as I like to call them will spot you like a vulture finding a once free and spirited gazelle lying dead under the blazing sun (killed by a woman...err, savage lioness, I meant). Yes, married people are that far gone, kids. I'm sticking with that analogy.

I hope you all gained some valuable insight today from the Memoirs of a Single Guy. Basically, I just thought I would share some deep, insightful reflections I had. And you should know that such thought provoking...umm...thoughts don't typically come to me. I mean, the only time I get reflective is when I hear, for example, rap music like The Game’s song Doctor’s Advocate off his Doctor’s Advocate album. Like, Damn, ol’ g went thru some drama, man. He still love Fifty. I mean, he ain’t really left the family after all. He said he'd take the bullet for Dre. That can’t be easy...

Cheers