Has My Father's Career Ruined My Love Life?

My father has been a businessman as long as I've been alive. When I was a toddler, he owned an exotic meat distribution company. When I was a kid, he was the head of food for the State. When I was a tween, he opened his first restaurant. Into my adulthood, he became a full blown multi-location restaurateur. Because of his ambition, my father’s affection for me was never something I could measure by the quantity of time spent with me or by consistency of showing up for things. 

“Baba loves you and you love Disney World. Someone’s gotta pay for Disney world ‘bibti” he would bark out over the phone while my mother rubbed my back backstage. 

Then, something shiny and new would appear the next day. Love, Baba. 

I know that in movies people make this kind of stuff out to be very sad and disheartening…it can be. However, once your mind develops enough to understand that the hypermasculine drive to succeed in providing is tied to their perception of being loving, it reframes things. My father thinks the only thing that makes him worthy of having a family is his ability to provide for us, so the most loving thing he can think to do is make sure he does a good job of it. He also believes it awards him escape from emotional development and introspective thought. He is afraid of those things, so he prefers to make money. I love him regardless and feel loved by him because I know that's his way. 

Is this, now, negativity affecting my love life though? I don't associate unavailability with lack of interest because of my experiences with my father. To be fair, it's often not a lack of interest. I see Hamoodi like once or twice a month these days and we have a strong friendship that is romantic when we feel like it? He's traveling for work a lot, he has friends and family to see, and I literally have every night booked on my schedule for the next two weeks. We're normal, secure, well adjusted people that aren't willing to upturn our lives because there's no rush to do so. I think people who rush are trying to make sure the other person doesn't lose interest by being up their ass all the time. I think anyone who can lose interest in me was never going to like me that much anyway. I also personally will cancel, reschedule, and be late to things if I get a work opportunity and I have complete control of my schedule. I also prioritize my friends and family over my love life. So, I never expect someone else to prioritize me over their work or friendships because we’ve been dating for a couple months. To me, dropping your entire world because you're dating me is lame as hell. You have no morals, no boundaries, no care for the people who have been here for you before you were trying to date me? Or worse, no one likes you and I'm gonna have to be your only friend.  Because of these opinions and my father conditioning me to not perceive being busy with work as not caring about me, I'm noticing that I'm struggling to tell when someone is disinterested in me.

Womp womp womp

Honestly, it's not often that anyone is disinterested in me. Most people become heavily infatuated with the idea of me, then they project onto an objectified version of me. Usually it's some sort of Manic Pixie Caretaker Virgin. Then, I break up with them because I realize that their idea of me is not in alignment with reality and they stalk me on the internet indefinitely. However,  I got dumped a couple weeks ago. It was so monumental for me that it cured a 4 month writer’s block. He did this after not seeing me for a month and over text.

The correct reaction to learning someone dumped me over text. In case you were wondering.

. I truly was blindsided by it and I didn't see it coming because this guy kept telling me he had to work and then one time he said he was sick. I tried my best to navigate these roadblocks gracefully. I thought it insecure to ask if he was still interested in me or wanted to keep dating despite all the rescheduling because I perceived him a secure and strong-minded person that would certainly not keep making up excuses not to see me because he actually didn’t want to. I thought we were similar in that way. In that month, I was away for a week, I had a friend staying with me for a week and a half, I had a full schedule of shows and friend hangs, and then he was on a business trip the last week of the month. I was like “it’s so totally cool because he has a life to upkeep that shouldn’t prioritize me so quickly.”  He kept up with me over text the entirety of the month and never changed his behavior. So, when he texted me saying that he doesn't like me; I was like “am I r-tarded?” Truly I went through 7 stages of disbelief. But when I told people about it, they were like “well he blew you off for a month, clearly he didn't like you and just thought you were dumb for letting him reschedule so much, so he used you for sex when it was convenient”. I was like “wow”. I've never thought of someone having a hectic work schedule as meaning that they don't like me, but then I learned from Tarek that he was lying about it being work! My mind was blown. Tarek revealed to me that he himself uses “work” as an excuse to soft ghost people because he's avoidant. I am confrontational, so I don't feel the need to soft ghost anyone. 

Now that I know that some people are so avoidant that they'll lie about being busy instead of just admitting that they aren't interested, I'm in a stuck place. How do you tell the difference between an Hamoodi/ Iman and a Soft Ghoster? 

I tried to get more information from Soft Ghoster in our last conversation, but he was tight lipped about his feelings. “No comment” I guess. I can’t complain about that because his lack of comment has allowed my hyperfixation to birth a slew of profitable articles including this one inshaAllah. Resigned to conspiracy about it; Hamoodi and I really dug into the situation…

“Did the consistency of his responses ever change?” Hamoodi pondered. 

“No, actually the pattern was super consistent. His answering schedule was almost always 11-2 midday and after 8 evenings. Aligning with his work schedule. On business trips, he would usually skip a day of answering on Thursdays and answer when he arrived at the airport on Friday which I perceived as burnout from the travel.” I recounted. 

“Let me see your texts” Hamoodi reached across his desk for my phone. His frown deepened with every scroll. “He's been calling you ‘baby’?”

“Yeah” I groaned. 

“Do you ever say it back? “

“No. Not because I didn't feel affectionate towards him, but because I don't feel like ‘baby’ is the right word for a man like that. I felt like I could do 'hayati’ once we were more serious. I would throw in an ‘albi’ when I was doing something sort of bad. ‘Habibi’ felt unserious as hell. So, I just use his name.” I explained. 

“Why is ‘baby’ not right for him.” Hamoodi laughed. 

I turned to face him and smiled. “He’s built like Dwayne Johnson in 2002.” 

Hamoodi smiled knowingly. “He’s like your father.” 

I shrugged. He shook his head. 

After a few more seconds of looking at the phone he said “yeah this is super consistent. That's wild.” 

I nodded. “Right?” 

“I can't even say that I think not seeing each other for a month is weird because I didn't see you for two months over the summer and I love spending time with you. I was just genuinely busy and I trust that you know I like you.” He thought out loud. 

That one got me thinking. I trust that you know I like you. It triggered a memory from my childhood. Of my Baba talking to his friends at dinner while I read my book. They were asking him if I get annoyed by being at dinners with a bunch of grown ups. He laughed this huge, booming laugh and told them that “I know what's important and how to behave when things need to go a certain way”. Basically that he trusts that I know ___. Because I’m such a good girl. Awesome. 

I prepared myself to cross a boundary I hadn't ever before with Hamoodi. I sat up straight, I looked him in the eyes, and with all of my courage, I said “could it be that he feels bad for calling me a ‘slut’ during sex and can't deal with himself after? I notice that he said something along the lines of just stopping having sex.”

“What?” Hamoodi dropped his jaw. “Okay.” He recovered from my boundary cross. “I mean… if that's what he’s into and he feels guilty for letting it out with you…did you guys ever talk about it?” 

“Not at all.” I shook my head. 

“Did it bother you?” 

I thought about it. “The first time it surprised me. I think I'm neutral on it. I don't mind degradation if it's not actually mean.” 

Hamoodi smirked. “I've noticed.” He swiveled the chair while he thought. He scrolled through the text conversation on my phone and frowned. “I can see him feeling guilty for that. You’re an objectively good, sweet Muslim girl. There could be some religious guilt there.” 

I think I’ve become such a bad girl this year. Partying, dancing, drinking, and blocking my family. I found out earlier this week that I'm the only person in my main friend group that's never done hard drugs and I never will. Am I too sweet to get railed? I hope not :/ 

“You should have started asking him how he feels about you.” Hamoodi interrupted my deliberation. 

“I asked him if he missed me.” I rebutted. 

“Yeah, it's insane that he lied and said he did…Like super weird. That would have been a great moment to man up and tell the truth. He seems so regulated up until that last conversation, it's strange. I think if you're in a situation like this again. You have to straight up ask how he feels about you by week two.” 

“Mmm. Tell me more” I said as I laid down onto his bed. 

“Well I'm sure you knew from the first date that he's not a great verbal communicator. I think that's why you didn't text him much.” He began. 

“Yeah, he said he prefers to show... So,you think he never liked me?.” I asked. 

Hamoodi pinched his nose. “No, he liked you. No play for over a month and keeping up daily is a lot for a guy who clearly doesn't like to communicate.” 

“Maybe it's that he's ESL” I interjected. “Maybe he communicates a lot in Darija or French.”

Hamoodi sighed. “Calling him ESL is…insane, Iman. Reel your ego in.” 

“He is ESL” I rolled my eyes. 

“He's like EFL” Hamoodi combated. 

Always as quick witted as me. English Fourth Language. 

“Okay, do you think he's as bad as he is at communicating in French or Darija as he is English?” I groaned. 

“I don't think he's necessarily bad at communicating.” Hamoodi said. 

“I think Helen Keller was better than him.” I snickered. 

Hamoodi widened his eyes. “Yeah…so if a person is like that. Maybe force them to figure out their feelings by asking them for them because they struggle with processing and will put it off and even process it poorly.” 

“Makes sense. I feel like you and I actually did affirm feelings a lot when we first started talking.” I recounted. 

“Definitely. I like to say ‘I like that’ so there's no confusion.” He laughed. 

He did say “I like that” all the time when we started dating. He says it still even though we are more friends than anything. I realized this was a good time to recall that Soft Ghoster asked me for a friendship. 

“I think he took my reflection about not knowing him well enough to want a friendship or a romantic relationship with him as a rejection.” I pondered. 

Hamoodi lifted the right corner of his mouth and picked at his curls. “Definately. That’s why he said he realizes it was silly to ask for. He doesn’t understand what you’re getting at and isn’t sure he’s doing the right thing, which he is saying a lot for someone making such a relationship shaking statement in immortalized text… So-” 

“He feels trapped in it. He knows that I’ve put my Baba in timeout, so there’s definitely the subconscious knowledge that all actions have consequences with me.” I added. 

Hamoodi laughed and put my phone down. “So, Iman, I think he cares more than he wants to say. He couldn't even make himself call you…Calling him a dictator is hilarious when you’re the real Ghaddafi.” 

I laughed too “Am I worse? I’ve never had to get gnarly with you.”

“I know when to relent. You’ve started with me and when you do, I face you and tell you the truth. Which is, I think, how we are able to be friends.” He smiled softly. “You’re something else.”

I think we’re both really proud of our friendship. The mutual understanding of it and the intentionality it exists under. My friendship with Hamoodi was forged by a self-awareness from both of us. A self-awareness that we are both in need of a lot of convincing to allow someone into our hearts and a knowledge that the friendship we have will outlast the current state of our romantic capabilities. I think Soft Ghoster had something similar in mind and felt rejected because he felt closer to me than I did to him. That’s because I made such an enormous effort to make him feel appreciated and he did not return it. I really, really liked Soft Ghoster and wanted to try with him.  I know that’s not super apparent in my writing haha. I didn’t feel close to him because I was aware that he was keeping me out, so I made active efforts to make him feel more comfortable letting me get to know him. I took that mofo to the spa with me because I thought it would create a space where he realized that I want to protect the softer parts of him and would allow me to see those parts. There is something in his essence that is deeply beautiful and particularly special. He didn’t return any of that effort though, he didn’t know me very well at all because he didn’t make the same amount of effort and didn’t realize that I am just as closed off. In his defense, I seem very open because of the tone I speak in and because I share minor details about my life that are inconsequential to me. It takes a long time for me to tell someone that I spent two years in Outpatient for clinical depression and that I had to choose to be an artist because it was the only thing that kept me alive. I’ll tell anyone that I had anorexia. 

“Why would he not want to say it?” I rolled my eyes. 

“He knows you're strict. He's trying to say as little as possible, so he doesn't set you off. That's why he won't get on the phone or talk in person. He's managing you.” Hamoodi said slowly and with intention to not make me upset. 

“Oh I KNOW!” I snapped. “I told him as much” 

Hamoodi smiled and looked at me mischievously. I thought that maybe we could be less friendly tonight because he looked very cute. 

“I don’t think Tarek is right.” Hamoodi interrupted my thoughts again. “No offense to Tarek, but he’s thinking of this as a 5 '5 man with no ambition and no discipline.”

“Oh?” I sat up. 

“I don't think he was using you for sex, that's stupid to say. He doesn't have trouble getting laid. Maybe he's getting serious with someone else, but I'm getting the vibe that he was being very serious about this from these messages.” Hamoodi got up from the desk and sat across from me on the bed. “You started misjudging his behavior the day he sent the break up text and I can tell that you skimmed all his responses because you were frustrated. You didn’t read them.” 

I smiled coyly. Tickled by the joy of being known. “Yes.” 

“You didn't read them because you already knew he was telling half truths and hiding things.” He leaned closer to me. “You could have talked him down, but you didn't. Why?” 

I curled my legs into my chest and tapped my toes in excitement. Like a deer in the woods, he was hunting me. Tracking my movements and using them to track me down. “My ego would never recover. I'd resent him for the rest of our knowing each other if I talked him down. I learned that from doing it with Ranger.” 

“So you did the opposite. You were mean to him to see if he'd come back. But you're worried that you went too far. You don’t believe that your father’s business is ruining your love life, you’re avoiding responsibility for losing your shit because you liked this guy more than you thought you did and didn’t have the self control you would have liked to.”

“I enjoy believing that my father’s schedule is the reason I failed to handle this with more control” I smirked. 

“You enjoy having your way.” He looked at me real seriously. “You enjoy when people respond the way you like them to. You would have enjoyed it if he gave you the information that you wanted. Not because you need it for some deep rooted understanding, but because you want to know that you're correct.” 

Hamoodi picked up his phone for the first time since we’d arrived at his apartment and ordered me an Uber. Then he picked up my rain coat, gestured for me to get up, and put the coat on for me. I puffed up my cheeks with air. 

“10 minutes.” He informed me of the driver’s arrival time. 

“You want me to say something.” I smiled. 

He shook his head at me and ran his hands through his messy curls. “How many articles have you sold about this?” 

“Three after this conversation, inshaAllah” 

He tilted his head back and gave me a deep bellied laugh. “And I’m sure that none of them include that you purposely pushed back at him by telling him you notice he keeps failing to show up for you, then asking for two days in a row earlier that week after he failed to be able to follow through, knowing he would probably have a hard time fulfilling two days, knowing that he strives to be a good man, knowing that he might try to find a way to fix it with what he perceives as your best interest in mind, and knowing you were doing something risky. None of them include that you perfectly judged the situation and knew what he might do. Do they, Iman?” 

Crippled by the joy of being known, I folded. “None of them admit that, no.”

“Right.” He kissed the top of my head. “The biggest diva in New York City.” 

“That doesn’t make me a diva!” I shoved him. 

He caught my hands, led me out the door, and into the stairwell. “Say it to me.” 

“I timed asking him for more days and bringing up that he doesn't have control of his schedule before we spent time with each other again after not seeing each other for a month because I wanted to see how affected by me he is before I saw him again and allowed myself to feel deeper. I was frustrated that he responded by not including me in the conversation instead of talking to me about and I had a tantrum. The more he told me ‘no’ the worse I got and I am upset with myself for not having the self control to stop.” I huffed as we trudged down all 6 floors of his walk up. “I wanted him to tell me he feels like he's going to let me down and to agree to going very slowly while we figure out the schedule! Not to tell me he doesn't like me and then not to give me any more information.” 

Hamoodi stopped me on the 3rd floor. “Tell the truth”

“I know he likes me, he never said that he doesn't like me, I never believed that he didn't like me. I just said that because I was mad.” I spat out.

We kept descending. 

“If he had let you manipulate him into giving you that information, you would have never respected him anyway. You’re frustrated because you didn't get what you want and the way he responded made you respect him more. It made you actually want him and now you're pissed the hell off.” He boxed my ears and left them ringing. 

I smiled a big, bright smile and gave him a big, bright hug on the first floor. 

He smiled too and scratched my head before letting me go and saying. “There’s an Uber here for the biggest brat in New York City.” 

He's right, but to be fair to myself, I wouldn't have had to do all the writing I did to understand the way I felt if Soft Ghoster had just told me what he was thinking. Sure, I knew what I was doing and I knew there could have been a negative consequence for it. However, a good thinker doesn't just decide their first thought is correct! They explore. I explored the ideas. Regardless of how I managed it, it is objectively weird to: 

1. Break up with someone over text 

2. Break up with someone over text after pretending you want to keep dating them after a month of not seeing each other 

3. Refuse to explain yourself 

4. Ask for feedback and encourage a dialogue about the situation, but be unwilling to engage in the dialogue. 

5. Ignore the other person's perspective and refer to it as an effort to change your mind. When in reality the reason you feel like they are trying to change your mind is that their perspective is more grounded in reality than your own and makes more sense. So, instead of engaging in a conversation about it, you accuse them of trying to change your mind.

6. Say you are emotional and upset about the break up you initiated due to “lack of interest”. 

7. Close the dialogue without returning any of the emotional labor you asked the other person to do for you.             

Because of this, I feel neither guilty nor vindictive for using my confusion about this out of the ordinary behavior as an asset to my work. 

Did my father's work negatively affect my love life? Yes, it did. It made me a scrutinous, mischievous, shit tester of a person. It did not, however, make me incapable of perceiving interest and understanding behavior. My father has been a businessman as long as I have been alive. Before that, he was a windsurfer, a painter, and a vagabond. I think those parts of him have shaped my life more than anything else.