Afghan dating

My experience there was a study in extremes (fitting for me, as I’ve always been an extreme person).

Still, that didn’t stop us from flirting all night.

He didn’t get my number, but somehow found a way to message me the next day and ask me out.

I’d had a fling or two with men I worked with, but no relationships.

I had flown to Dubai, which is three hours away, to deal with some visa issues.

People played poker and cards, used cocaine and weed, and drank a lot of alcohol, which is a sign of power and money since it’s only sold on the black market at exorbitant prices.

It might sound like I had a glamorous life, but there were plenty of days that went by with nothing but work—no social interaction, no walks outside, or going out to grab coffee.

The night after we first slept together, he asked me to go for a walk. He said he was forced into an arranged marriage with a relative of his mother’s (yes, a distant blood relative, which is not uncommon in his culture) who had lost her whole family in an explosion.

He married her despite being in love with a woman he’d met in the US, where his family immigrated when he was in high school.

Because of the restrictions in Kabul, we had limited options for being together.

I snuck over to his place, or we had quick encounters in his office, where he’d act like he needed my help with something and close the door. One friend owned a house exclusively for partying purposes, and that was where we went to be alone.

A typical day could include interacting with the Afghan government; dining with clients in front of heaping piles of rice and naan; or going to various embassies, yet—since we lived and worked in a high-security compound for safety—I spent much of my time there, and every opportunity to go out into the city was a thrill.

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