5 Warnings For Dating A Generation Y Military Man
Naive and in love, I married a man from Kabul — only to discover the horrible life of a fundamentalist Muslim wife. I did not enter the kingdom as froj diplomat, soldier, teacher, journalist or foreign aid worker. I am only 18 when my prince — a dark, older, handsome, westernized foreigner who afghahistan traveled abroad from his native home in Afghanistan — bedazzles me.
We meet at Bard College, where afghnistan is studying economics and politics and I am studying literature on scholarship. Abdul-Kareem is the son of one of the founders of the modern banking system in Afghanistan. He wears designer sunglasses and bespoke suits and when he visits New Ddating City, he afguanistan at the Plaza.
I am Jewish, raised in an Orthodox home in Borough Park, Brooklyn, the daughter of Polish immigrants. My dad dtaing door-to-door selling soda and seltzer. But none of this matters. Instead, we stay up all night discussing film, opera and theater. My parents are outraged and hysterical. They warn me that no good will come of this union. Little did I know then how right they would be. We marry rfom a civil ceremony in Poughkeepsie with no family present.
For our honeymoon, we travel around Europe with a plan to stop off in Kabul to meet his family. I did not know that this would be our final destination. When we land, 30 relatives await our arrival. Among them, not one but three mothers-in-law. I am too shocked to speak, too shocked to question what these three women might mean for my future.
Her name dating a guy from afghanistan Bebugul. There are bear hugs and kisses all around. But before the caravan of black Mercedes-Benzes can leave, an airport official demands that I turn over my American passport. Both the official and my husband assure me that this is a mere formality. It will soon be returned to me, so I reluctantly relinquish it.
That means — I would soon learn — that I would not be able to leave Afghanistan at will. I am now subject to the laws and custom of Afghanistan, and as an Afghan woman, that means hardly any rights at all. I am only 20, and I am now a member of this household, which consists of one patriarch, three wives, 21 children who range in age from infancy to their 30stwo grandchildren, at least one son-in-law, one daughter-in-law and an unknown number of servants dating a guy from afghanistan relatives.
Our arrival is celebrated with a feast of unending and delicious dishes. Abdul-Kareem comes alive during the celebration. He speaks Dari even though I cannot and leaves me with the other women. I am unprepared for my first-ever Muslim prayer service. Suddenly, all the men drop to the floor on all fours, prostrating themselves. I had never seen Abdul-Kareem pray before. When I awake the next morning, my husband is gone. I am completely alone. And I will spend every morning and afternoon that follows alone with my mother-in-law and female relatives.
As the excitement over our arrival wears off, so does my special treatment. The household meals are now only made with ghee. Two weeks into my confinement and I have only left the compound twice — both times afghanishan a calvary of people guarding and watching. One day, I decide to sunbathe on the private terrace that adjoins my bedroom.
I don a pink bikini covered in purple polka dots. Then I hear a loud commotion that sounds like men yelling at each other. A delegation had descended dating a guy from afghanistan our house to demand that all affhanistan, especially I, be properly dressed. Later I write in my diary: No opportunity to meet anyone or go anywhere. His family watches me dating a guy from afghanistan. Am I getting paranoid? I discover that mother-in-law has instructed the servants to stop boiling my drinking water.
Because the sewage system consists of open irrigation ditches that are used as public bathrooms and for drinking water, I contract dysentery. Perhaps she wants me dead. She then begins her afghanistah campaign. She gives me prayer rugs and prayer beads and urges me to convert to Islam. The day she barges into my room with a servant and confiscates my precious hoard of canned goods.
I am her captive, dating a guy from afghanistan prisoner; she, my jailer, might treat me more decently if I find ways datong please her. This is difficult for me to write about but I did it. I repeat the words: When she is angry at me, she spits at me. Looking both ways, I walk out feeling like a criminal. I board a bus and notice that all the other women are at the back of the bus wearing burqas. I am how to find out if wife is on dating sites, slightly hysterical.
Meanwhile, all eyes are on me. I am without even a head scarf or a coat. In this country, a naked face is almost the same as fully bared breasts. I am lost and dizzy with fear. My husband is informed of my escape, and he finds me and brings me dating a guy from afghanistan. I want to go home. Abdul-Kareem is fed up with my unhappiness. I attempt a second escape to the American embassy.
Without a US passport, I no longer have any rights as an American. I try twice more to escape — one with a return to the American embassy and another with the help of a friendly German expat. But before I can set any plans in action, I fall deathly ill. My temperature climbs to degrees, but I receive no sympathy from my family. After days of struggling — and falling into a coma—a local doctor is called.
This is my lowest point. I fear that if I die here I will be buried in a Muslim cemetery, forever forgotten. I continue to fight for my survival and beg to see an American doctor. My family agrees, but only if I am closely guarded. The doctor, however, manages to get me alone for a brief moment and tells me that I must return to the States for treatment. Then he orders a nurse to give me fluids.
The next thing I remember is someone tugging at my IV line. I call out and am rescued by a sister-in-law, who sits with me through the night. But he now realizes that if I survive this disease, I will leave him. Dating a guy from afghanistan he contrives a way to make me stay. That night, a he climbs into my bed when I am feverish and sick and forces himself on me. He is trying to impregnate me because if I am carrying his child, Dating a guy from afghanistan will not be allowed to leave.
I have to get out and it has to be now. I have only one card left to play: