Deep in the Heart of the Sahara: Why I’ll Never Forget My First Time at the World’s Largest “Singles’ Retreat”

Welcome to the Sandiest Plot Twist of My Life

Let me set the scene. You’re a 26-year-old semi-broke MFA student living in a shoebox Brooklyn apartment, which smells faintly of halal street meat on most days, dreaming big but living frugally. You’re working part-time as a tutor, skimming just enough cash together to make rent and buy tea biscuits because you think they’re “fancy” (spoiler: they’re not). One day, a coworker says, “You know what you need? An adventure. Get out of this borough.”

Naturally, my overly ambitious self took that advice and sprinted way too far with it. By the next semester break, I was on a motley discount flight to Morocco with two bags, zero sense of direction, and an ill-conceived idea that I’d trek the edge of the mighty Sahara Desert to “find myself.” If you’re thinking, Malik, what does this have to do with dating or relationships? Don’t worry; you’ll get it in a minute.

The Sahara Is Basically Tinder with Fewer Sandstorms

The desert, as it turns out, has a funny way of being ridiculously metaphorical. A vast, beautiful, unknowable expanse with dunes as high as five-story brownstones, it’s not just a place but an experience. It’s also the ultimate equalizer: it doesn’t matter if you’re an Instagram influencer slathered in SPF 100 or someone like me, stumbling through life armed with a notebook and the questionable advice of a Reddit thread about desert survival.

On my second day, our group of 12 strangers—backpackers, a few nomadic Berbers, and some hardcore cyclists who made everyone else feel inferior—set off on camelback. Now, this wasn’t the polished, influencer movie version of camel riding. Think of being flung onto a toddler-sized horse but angrier and lumpier. Thirty minutes in, half the group was murmuring prayers for their inner thighs, and I was strongly considering walking instead.

But here’s the thing—riding camels in the Sahara has an almost hypnotic effect. Everyone starts off awkward, shy, and low-key terrified. By hour two, we were giddy, making jokes like we’d been friends forever. It was like the world’s weirdest singles’ mixer—sweaty, dusty, and brought to you by unwashed bandanas.

And then there was her.

A Girl, the Desert, and the World’s Most Awkward Pickup Line

No, this isn’t a love story. But there’s something about meeting someone knee-deep in absolute absurdity that’s unforgettable. Olivia was British—quick-witted and entirely too confident for someone sitting sideways on a camel named Ronaldo. I didn’t expect much conversation at first—mostly because I thought I’d come across as “that guy sweating through his T-shirt in 50-degree heat.” But Olivia leaned over mid-ride and said, “You know, I think my camel’s judging me.”

It was such a ridiculous statement that I laughed out loud, scaring poor Ronaldo (and probably the judgmental camel she was referring to). And with that, we started talking. She was in the Sahara on a “post-breakup spirit journey,” and me? I said something along the lines of, “I’m fulfilling a childhood dream...via Groupon.” At some point, she teased that swinging a water bottle from my hip made me look like a “lost cowboy in training.” She, meanwhile, had a one-liner for just about every part of the trip—from the Moroccan breakfast ("Couscous for breakfast just feels like carbs committing a crime") to the blister-inducing trek across the dunes (“This is proof cardio is evil”).

Olivia wasn’t the love of my life or my soul mate (shocking revelation, I know). But two days of conversations with a hilarious stranger reminded me that connection can happen anywhere—even when your butt feels like it might never return to its original, non-saddle-worn shape.

Lessons the Sahara Taught Me About Modern Romance

Life in the Sahara was stripped down to the basics: walk, eat, laugh, bond, repeat. With no cell service, no curated Instagram stories, and no ability to swipe left, everyone had to...actually talk to one another. Wild, right? Some of those lessons stuck with me long after the sand had left my shoes (which was a process, by the way—had to replace those boots).

Here are a few hard-earned takeaways:

  1. Connection Thrives in Shared Struggles: Whether it’s climbing a dune that feels like Everest or lamenting a blister in a language everyone understands, there’s something primal about bonding over mutual challenges. Date ideas that test teamwork? A++, in my book.

  2. Humor Is Currency, Spend Generously: If you can laugh together—really laugh—it’s disarmingly powerful. Olivia and I didn’t exchange contact info when the trip was over, but I’ll never think of camels the same way again.

  3. Unplugging Creates Magic: There’s zero pressure to perform when all your distractions are stripped away. We weren’t “curated” versions of ourselves—we were just regular (dust-covered) people, trying to survive the sweltering heat and bad camel moods.

  4. Simplicity Speaks Volumes: Forget the grandiose rom-com moments. Sitting together on a sand dune, watching the sun dip in a blaze of gold and crimson, was unforgettable—and not because it was “perfectly Instagrammable.” Just authentic.

Would I Go Back?

Absolutely not. (Kidding...maybe.)

Look, the Sahara is exquisite in a soul-clarifying way, but it’s also harsh, unforgiving, and full of literal pitfalls (quick sand is real, y’all). But would I trade those two intense, surreal days for anything? Never. I left that desert with more than a few pounds of sand in every pocket imaginable; I carried out stories, moments of vulnerability, and a reminder that adventure, however messy, is so often the best teacher.

The Sahara showed me that whether it’s a camel trek, a first date, or a relationship hitting rocky terrain, leaning into the journey—even when it’s awkward or uncomfortable—is where the magic happens. Who needs an oasis when the people along the way are the real treasure?

So, if you’re feeling stuck in your own “desert,” metaphorically or literally, remember this: laughter, connection, and a willingness to embrace the chaos might just get you to the other side. Or, at the very least, get you a funny story.

Props to Ronaldo the camel. He taught me patience, resilience, and that not everything has to like you to carry you forward.