Since there is just SO MUCH TIME for reflection, here’s a list of things I’ve learned about myself during this Covid season, in no particular order:
When God tells me to do something (like go live in Lebanon), I’m in it until I hear otherwise. Come rain or shine, garbage crisis or financial crisis, I’m in it. But this does not mean that I won’t have moments in which I just wanna get the hell out. Don’t you worry; I’m not leaving (and I couldn’t since the airport is still closed, ha!). Just know that I will throw a temper tantrum periodically because I need to be difficult.
To temper the tantrums a bit, I decided to download a bunch of operas and listen to a different one each evening. I’m not a sophisticated theater goer and I’ve only been to see like three operas in my life, but coming from the family I come from, I felt I should put more of an effort in. Sooo… Still not a connoisseur, but I think I like Puccini’s melancholy the best. Verdi and Bizet aren’t bad. Mozart is too sanguine. Definitely don’t like Wagner. Too angsty.
Speaking of angst, dating apps. OH. MY. WORD. Until now I refused to engage because they made me nervous and I still cling to the illusion that I possess sufficient people skills and geographic mobility to meet someone in person. But because mobility is limited and people skills are superfluous for the foreseeable future, I decided to give it a shot. For kicks. So I downloaded three apps that had been recommended to me and I set up my profile and started surfing. But it’s a complete and utter gimmick. They tell you you’ve received 30 messages but you can’t read them unless you either get two friends to sign up or you pay the whatever dollars per month for a subscription. Also, they don’t bother to ask any insightful, character-based questions, just conversation-starter type stuff. So basically, I’m dealing with a lazy algorithm. And the most exasperating thing of all: they limit you to your geographical area. First of all, my geographical area is exactly why I felt the need to enlist the help of dating apps. Secondly, my location registers like this:
Welcome to Beirut urban planning. I feel like this is a metaphor for my love life.
Anyway, the point is: I don’t want to meet guys in Beirut. I want to meet guys in Europe. Because just like every other single, young-ish person living in Lebanon right now, I’m hoping to (eventually) leave and go somewhere else, like BACK TO EUROPE. Duh. Creators of dating apps should make allowances for the geographically restless. And maybe also read up on some geopolitics. One of the apps so generously gave me the option of widening my search to a radius of 400 km, which for me just means Syria and Israel. Syria is out for obvious reasons, and even though I found the Israeli guys to be the most handsome and intriguing, Lebanon’s secret service would track me down and kick me out of the country for liaising with the enemy. So that’s unhelpful.
Fed up, I deleted all three apps after 48 hours. Then I tried registering on two other UK-based sites but couldn’t get past the very first step because they wouldn’t accept my email address (I suspect they can tell by my IP address that I’m in Lebanon). RUDE.
Screw dating apps. They make me angry.
On a more positive, but still depressing note, I’m not too good at keeping things alive. Empirical proof is found in the fact that I’ve managed to nearly kill both of my aloe plants, and even my spider plant looks like it’s longing for heaven. These are supposedly resilient types of flora (I mean my word, aloes are built to thrive in the desert), yet under my apparently not so maternal mothering, they’ve decided to give up on life. I’m tempted to do the same. But because I refuse to accept that I have the touch of death, I bought a new aloe plant, a rose bush, two cacti, and a bonsai tree and spent my Sunday gardening. (Just to be safe though, I made sure the plants were cheap enough that I can afford to have them die on me, should they wish to.)
