Is There Another Love in Your Heart?

The Old Virgin Dilemma

Adzan Ashar was just reverberating when I was about to pack up to leave school. Cloudy darkened. The air feels cold and dark. Although the rain had not yet fallen, but the lightning and the sound of thunder made the atmosphere increasingly gripping.

I headed to the motor park feeling depressed. Still ringing in my ear, the babbling of the teachers. The three of them are indeed a culprit. Lazy I said his name. Really made my ears hot today.

Asking, insinuating or making fun of me is no different. Today I am a baper. I don't want to joke. So whatever comes in my ear, it feels piercing.

"Heh, when did you get married, Mom?” asked the somewhat fat postured teacher by clawing at my arm.

“Wait for what is not marriage? I used to be your age already have two children you know." seduced the other teacher who if served at home for hours chatting.

“Apparently beautiful it is not a guarantee of fast sale yes?” the other teacher went along.

“Ciee are again manyun,” their tease accompanied by laughter.

‘Plis! can't you guys not brisik, my mind is sad.’

The three of them laughed. Like I'm an object that can be used as a joke. Honestly, it's very difficult to hear. The three female teachers who were passionate about it always bullied me. It's always the topic they're talking about. It seems like they are content to have left me at a loss for words. I smiled wryly. Better to avoid them than be moons. Especially if there are many teachers who gather, it can be mutually simple. It feels like I could die a flea. This time I was not in the mood. Between annoyance and tiredness.

That's the umpteenth-hundred question that's been stuffing my ears lately. I don't know why it feels the same. Like slapped. Even though it's packed in guyonan style. I've tried to react to it reasonably. But this heart is very sensitive. Marrying. My other heart whispered.

Like this afternoon I smiled and left them. When alone, suddenly clear in the corner of my eyes shed. One by one their faces flashed. Sometimes annoyance will smile to himself. How ridiculous you guys are. How I shut their mouths. It doesn't feel possible. All I can do is close my ears.

‘Astagfirullah.'

Why am I so offended?’

If they were in my position. Ah already! Why think of the words of others, comfort me in my heart.

I myself choose not to ask the privacy of things. I usually ask myself. It's nice not to be asked that, otherwise I wouldn't have done it. Everyone is in a different situation and situation. And today I'm sorry, o mothers of ghibah lovers, you have succeeded in making me ashamed and hurt. You satisfied?

I drove the bike at a speed that left the school.

Ahh, Tongue.tongue, I stroked the chest. Along the way, I continued to take part.

I am twenty-eight years old now. Do I deserve the title of a spinster?

I am the third of four children. My sister, Tiara, who is two years old under me, already has two children. Both my brothers have families. I am the one waiting for the hatch.

I stared at myself in front of the mirror. How God has given me a perfect face nothing less. True said the teacher earlier.beautiful is not a guarantee of fast practice. Forgive Your servant in O Rabb. ‘Why am I this weak.’

Actually, no one is interested in me. There were some men trying to get close to me. But they have not met the criteria as a priest.

“Let down your criteria, Ma'am. Don't look for the perfect. Because it never existed.”

Tiara tried to advise me. It feels so painful in the chest. The criteria? I'm not looking for rich, handsome or high-ranking. Teach me to find a sholeh husband. That'sthat's all.

“Current time yes difficult, Mbak.”

“Nothing is difficult for God, unless He makes it easy,” I said.

A year ago, a brown male teacher went to school with me. He was chasing me. A few times to the house and bring a bag. Most of my friends know too. They are also very supportive. Moreover, he is an established PNS teacher. The vault is IVB. Have a house and a car. But I don't know why my heart is not interested in him at all. Not because of his age who's already four heads. But more because of his chameleon personality. I have often observed that he always had an interest, that is, a position. Thank goodness there are new teachers at school. Unable to get close to me, he turned to the teacher. Gayung also welcomed. They're married now, and that makes me calm down. However, he still secretly sent me messages via whatsapp. Sometimes they steal the view. Obviously I ignored it. Basic man!

Then, a teacher who is quite handsome according to the mother-mom, also once approached me. Her speech was sweet and seductive. Make a woman's heart klepek-clepek. He likes to tease all women. No matter the girl or the wife status. Young or old. As long as it is female, it is seduced with its sweet mouth. Perhaps this was already his habit as a seductive man. That is why she likes to imbue her mother-female lovers of ghibah. He once expressed his heart by coming home. This is the first time I've seen him seriously. Again I was illfeel. If he were a man who could keep his tongue, I would gladly accept him. Because I did not respond, he chose to retreat regularly.

The last one was the headmaster of a private school. I started my acquaintance with him when I became a national test supervisor. Because I came in early on the supervisor's appeal. So we talked about various things. He also asked about my status. A few days later he sent a message. One day he made his point, which was to propose to me as a second wife. The deg! His current status as a PNS DPK teacher who teaches in private schools. Indeed, there is a requirement that PNS should not be polygamous. I think it's good. That's why he wanted to marry me in series. My answer is firm, no!. I don't want to be a thorn in someone else's household. Imagine how the first wife would feel if she knew her husband was married again. What if I'm in his position. I can't possibly do that. Since my rejection, he has never contacted me again. I'm grateful.

“Do not be too picky, Saida.”

I smiled wryly when someone insinuated that. Finding a partner should be selective. I'll live with him. He will be both a priest and father of my children. He will also make my life happy or suffer in the world even to the future. Buy clothes we have to be picky, can not origin comot. But the edges will be dreadful. Let alone choosing a partner, rutukku in the heart.

“Makanya Mbak Saida, dandan donk. That shirt that's gaul napa? Kayak is a guy in fear of approaching.”

“The men who want to marry me are men who want to love me like this. I don't want to change the way I dress just for a man. Especially if it is clearly not appropriate in sharia.”

My eyes are almost wide. I choose to smile again. I am also free to argue with them. Sometimes in vain I explain at length. They have concluded themselves. That my clothes and attitude are not easy to approach men, as if to be the cause of my disrespect. Yes already.

❤❤

Almost every weekend Tiara and her little family went home. Although it was different from the city but Tiara's house with our parents' house was quite close, no more than five kilometers. Unlike my two brothers who live further away. They can come six months later. Waiting for his kids for the end of the semester.

It was then that I could see the twinkle in the faces of my mother and father.truly happy, playing with his grandchildren.

I also love playing with my nephews. There is happiness when taking them for a walk just buying toys or just snacks. Something just blew. “ This is his son, Bu.” Sometimes I do it so that I can pass soon. But questions like that can make my mood drop all day.

I have secretly been jealous of my brothers. There was a feeling of jealousy witnessing their happiness. As they were joking with the couple and their children, there was a sudden whirring of stinging sneaks in.

I often have monologues, why did God do this to me. Does not feel suddenly clear fluid warms up on the cheeks.

“Tante why crying,” asked Ismi, eldest daughter of my brother Azkan.

“Come here Ismi blow her eyes! Said me.

I close my face. Her tiny hands opened my eyelids.

“Wush.wush.”

“Already out the dust. Ismi pinter once,” praise me.

I hurriedly wiped the tears that had already seeped on the cheeks. All that God foresees must be the best. I have to strengthen myself.

This afternoon we gathered in the middle room. Tiara has a cheerful personality. Different from me, who was more quiet and calm. That's my brothers saying.

“Enak until Mbak, want to go anywhere stay the road, not complicated like I gini,” Tiara chirped.

“Prieve your mbak soon meet the best soul mate,” sahut Ibu menimpali.

“Aamiin, Insyaallah.”

‘Can't talk another, protest me inwardly.’

School holidays are the most special time. The house is always crowded. Mother has prepared three Palembang mattresses to welcome the arrival of favorite grandchildren. Spread in the middle room. The kids are scrambling to sleep there. Ma'am Rahma, Mas Azkan's wife slept with me in the room. Ma'am Ais, wife of Fikri and Tiara slept in the middle room. While mas-masku with the children slept in front of the tivi. They usually talk late at night.

When almost all residents of the house sleep. I was still engrossed in front of the laptop to make teaching materials. Mom and Azkan were still talking. My eldest brother asked me a variety of things. I answer as much as I can.

“You already have a candidate?”

I who was allergic was asked like that, replying with a smile. Actually, until when did they stop harassing me. Tired of knowing, my inner.

‘Ahh no! Please don't think negative. They care about you, my other heart.’

“Kok even smiles. Silence means yes,” reload mas Azkan gegegetan.

I nodded without a word said.

“Makanya, Da, you don't be too picky. Want to get to when? No one is perfect. Along the way, it can complement each other, right?.”

‘Hadeuh mas Azkan said what the hell, batinku.’

“What the Azkan mas said has a point. If you are looking for an angel who does not marry,” ceplos mas Fikri. No matter how Fikri slept.

“Not so mas-mas. I don't really look at the physicality, the work or the material. For me, what matters is that his religion must be good. The others I can accept. That's absolutely non-negotiable. The husband is a priest. How will guide me later if the religion is mediocre.”

“Alah. The important thing is that the prayer is sufficient, to.”

“I don't think that's enough, Mas.”

My brothers may be a little irritated by my principles. Moreover, they had heard from mother that I had several times rejected the man who approached me. They think I'm just looking for excuses. Less is less. Actually that's how I feel. No sreg. How else.

“If you are like that, you can be a spinster later. Just look!” mas Fikri said cynically.

Instantly it was like there were dozens of bow arrows stuck in this chest. I didn't think my mom would say that. My eyes are misty. I closed my laptop. How good I am to leave them alone. With my heart torn, I lamented in the room.

The soul of man is determined by God. Our job is to work only. Not that because the age is approaching a red light so choose. Decrease standard. I always try to be a good person. Because in the Quran explained a good believer will get a good believer. I want to have a good husband and be able to take me to heaven. Am I like missing the moon? May God send a soul mate to me immediately. I looked at the ceiling of the room. Drowsiness suddenly dominated me.

The next day, Mas Azkan tried to convince me. He began to tell me about his meeting with Rahma. He was not as veiled as he is now. But gradually it can be good for his guidance.

“Even when you marry someone whose religion is lacking, it can be a field of reward for you,” Mas Azkan is still trying to lecture me again.

“It's not that easy, Mas. If otherwise how” Sahutku.

“Many times I met a wife who suffered from choosing the wrong husband. Who used to be good at prayer, long ago so holes, often fighting and chaotic life.”

“Too naive you.”

Mas Azkan ended our chat. Maybe he was annoyed at not being able to advise me.

In some ways, our views are different. I choose to avoid arguing with them. As much as possible. Moreover, we found it also rarely.

I don't want to, this little time makes the atmosphere so broken. While mom and dad tend to give up completely on me. I live it anyway.

❤❤

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