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Muslim Fuck Boys Part IV: Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

Muslim Fuck Boys Part IV: Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire -
WARNING: As per usual – explicit language and sexual content. If you’re uncomfortable with any of the aforementioned – we highly suggest you read something else.

We are going retro with this Public Service Announcement; back to a time when I was much younger and not accustomed to the fuckery that was to follow from this Muslim Fuck Boy. This was the first significant Muslim Fuck Boy I experienced, and it was a wake up call for a fresh faced, inexperienced, small city girl. So, get comfy, this trip down memory lane is a long one!

Fuck Boy #7: The Beautiful Liar

A business man running a small empire; in hindsight, this seems a suspicious/shady setup. Regardless, this man was everything my dreams were made of up until that point. It was as if God had taken all the best parts of my fantasies and molded them together to form this man.

If I have ever described a man as good looking prior to this piece, then please believe Fuck Boy #7 would make them and most men look and feel inadequate. He was beautiful. This tall, athletic, ruggedly handsome man, was all man. And truthfully, out of my league aesthetically! His chiseled face and body only complemented his chivalry and thoughtfulness. He didn’t play games and took the lead in most things while maintaining a respectful attitude. I met him while traveling for work and all but floated home when he offered me his phone number. We lived in different cities, which were a reasonable distance away from each other, but, frankly, after our initial meeting and exchange of numbers, I would’ve crossed an ocean to see him again! I wouldn’t bother crossing a puddle for any guy now; even an Adonis.

Fuck Boy #7 was a lot older than me, which was always my type (and still is), and he made no secret of his experience. This was all the more thrilling for a stupid, naïve, love-struck girl like me. Now, please bear in mind that this was a time before Instagram, Snapchat, FaceTime, location sharing, advanced Google searches, or any other useful verifying (stalking) tools we have today. It was also before my detective skills had developed into what they are now. I took a person’s word at face value and didn’t question things that didn’t make sense (make a mental image of an idiot). Don’t do what I did! Question everything!

I discovered that he was extremely committed to his religion (Islam) and “very practicing,” once we got to talking on the phone. I wasn’t particularly religious at this point in my life, but I was mesmerized with his devoutness to Islam; which made me practice/pray more. He prayed at work, and even while he traveled. He was also always maintaining his wudu. Our conversations often revolved around Hadith, Qur’an, and Islamic history in our daily phone calls, which were scheduled like clockwork. He called every day during my lunch-break and then again as I made my way home. After this he would only ever text and never call, and sometimes not even respond to my text till the next morning. Weekends were never the same. Sometimes, it was talking on the phone all day or two days of not hearing from him. I voiced my concerns about this, but he chalked it up to owning a business, long days at work, and crashing out on the sofa, so I believed him.

“I met him while traveling for work and all but floated home when he offered me his phone number.”

His capriciousness was easily forgiven because he always made the effort to travel and visit me and was a perfect gentleman every time. He was utterly respectful at these meetings, never so much as even hinted anything inappropriate. We seemed to only discuss the pragmatics of our feelings and moving our “relationship” forward; the logistics of how we would get to know each other a little better (in a halal way) before we could get married.

Hearing the word marriage from his mouth was sweet, sweet music to my ears. This cheesy, pretentious dancing around imaginary trees in our conceptual fantasy land went on for several months, but was abruptly brought to a halt one morning a few days after our last meeting. Seeing his name flashing on my phone at 9AM, I excitedly answered the call with endearment in my voice.

My ear was met with a screaming woman. She was violently furious, screaming through the phone at me. She threatened to find me and tear my head off (I believed her). I disconnected the call, but answered again when she called back. Why? Because I had deciphered from her screaming words that she was in fact Fuck Boys #7’s wife. I had to hang up several times before she finally calmed down and agreed to talk amicably. I explained I knew nothing about her and that I was not some man-stealing-home-wrecking-slut like she believed me to be!

We eventually had a very long and adult conversation, which I won’t detail in order to preserve her identity and the dignity of our awful situation. However, she did ask a lot of exhaustive questions, perhaps rightly so! I answered honestly despite being in emotional pain myself. A word of advice to those who read this: if you do find yourself in such a dreadful situation, please don’t be a bitch to the wife. She is not the enemy.

I wish that’s were the story ended, but unfortunately for me it got slightly worse. I could hear a baby crying very close to the phone, who she revealed was three weeks old and only one of many children she had with Fuck Boy #7. She settled her crying baby, and I listened to her in silence, struggling with the confusion of why Fuck Boy #7 had done this? Then abruptly she blurted out, “He’s been threatening to take a second wife for years.”

And the penny dropped.

“…I had deciphered from her screaming words that she was in fact Fuck Boys #7’s wife.”

This Fuck Boy was not playing away from home because, frankly, there was no “playing” (sex) taking place. He was in search of a second wife! He conveniently “forgot” to tell wife one and potential wife two (me) of his intentions. We spoke later that night and he admitted to all the lies, explaining he wanted me to be “completely in love with him” before telling me I would be his second wife!

What transpired after the initial revelation would reveal too much about him/his wife, so I won’t detail it. But there were weeks of phone calls from him, attempting to convince me to be his second wife! Unfortunately, my Blackberry at the time didn’t have a ‘block’ option. It was emotional turmoil listening to him grovel and also justify not only his lies, but his “Islamic right to have a second wife.” Gag. He did eventually give up trying to convince me, then disappeared, leaving behind a dent in my ability to trust – forever.

If he had been truthful about his intentions/current marriage, then, admittedly, I would’ve still ran for the hills. But I might have at least respected him when I stopped to catch my breath (after all that running).

In many ways, married men are the finished item, because some other women have put in all the hard work to fix them. Let’s face it, most (not all) men need fixing! Therefore, being a second wife is not always a bad compromise to make; if consenting adults agree to be in an Islamic polyamorous relationship, which is mutually beneficial, loving, and healthy, then I wouldn’t contradict this.

However, a second, third, and fourth wife is not a “right” – it’s a privilege. Yes, this privilege is granted to men in Islam, but under specific guidelines, which need to be adhered to. I am not well versed in Islamic jurisprudence, but I can assertively say that lying, deceit, manipulation, and threats (of divorce or marrying another woman) are not part of taking a second (third or fourth) wife process.

For me, it has been ten years and I still struggle with this situation. I still hear the helplessness and fear in his wife’s voice ringing in my memory. She could be any one of us! And because of this, for me, it begs the question, is a second, third, fourth marriage a conducive, realistic, achievable family system for the times and places we live in? Or is it simply a justified method for men to have multiple sexual partners?

I’ve gotten therapeutic with this piece while simultaneously questioning the male chauvinism that seems to have swallowed up this particular element of Islam. Muslim Fuck Boys tend to believe that multiple marriages were ordained to solely benefit men. This is not the case. A word of advice to these men: learn to keep one wife fully satisfied and happy before getting ahead of yourselves, please.

Until next time, remember keep that fuckery radar on high alert!

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