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Luckily, thanks to Couchsurfing, we were rescued by some locals who let us crash in their sitting room while we came up with a plan.“Screw it, let’s get married.” I said to Esme across our cornflakes.I had yet to see anybody drinking or smoking and, so far, the only girls I had seen had been hidden deep within the endless black folds of heavy chadors. I messaged her with the best chat up line I could think of. We sat in a cafe, her blue hair peeking out from beneath her green hijab; a compulsory garment for all women in Iran.I expected to have to keep my head down, and to abstain from sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. So I turned to Tinder, curious to see if any local girls would be online. Esme told me of her adventures backpacking in the Philippines, of her career as a vet, of her hopes that a softening of laws and attitudes is coming to Iran.I told her about my current three year trip across the world, of my upcoming adventures in Pakistan, my plan to sail a raft across the ocean.Minutes slipped into hours and, before I knew it, the sun had set and it was getting late.For me, traveling to Iran was an experience which would change my life in ways I had never imagined.

Temporary marriages, or Sigheh, are used by lots of Iranian couples for lots of different purposes; a marriage can last from an hour to a decade and a dowry, traditionally, has to be paid.

Amir, an Iranian friend of mine, explained it to me: “In Iran, you can find everything; parties, one-night stands, alcohol, LSD, everything is possible.” We spent an entire day looking for a mullah willing to marry a foreigner and a local Iranian girl, we were rejected multiple times but finally managed to find a bearded fellow willing to help us. When prompted, I repeated after the Mullah — both he and Esme laughed at my attempts at Farsi as I struggled through.

Smiling broadly, the Mullah shook my hand, welcomed me to Iran in scratchy English and stamped a small booklet with our photos pasted into it. We took to the road, keen to explore as much of Iran as possible, to peel back the layers of an often forgotten country and to hitch the entire length of Iran and back.

Although the object of his affection, the neighbors' daughter Golnar, didn't reciprocate his sympathies, he showered her with flowers, carved her name on pieces of wood, and bribed the neighborhood boys with rare chewing gum wrappers to find out more about her.

At the height of his infatuation, he conjured up a preadolescent fantasy that he shared with his classmate.