Act of kindness even through a dating app.
kindness without limits even the smallest amount
It has been almost two years since I’ve joined a dating app. Not only to get to know people out of my cocoon whether it’s only for a night or as friends, but also to stay social offline and online specially during the pandemic. As a 21 years old “gay” man who immigrated from Iran to Australia, I felt the need to make connections in order to understand the culture, here in Melbourne city.
Before I come here with my parents I was living in Tehran, Iran’s capital. the cultural behavior, even the LGBTQ+ culture, is vastly different than Melbourne. Although people in Iran carry the compulsory government restrictions everyday but the community is surprisingly more supportive in action. I don’t know if it’s because of the gregarious personality of people or a way of relieving themselves from all the restraints. Or maybe I feel like this cause I’m homesick. Who knows?
As we all know, Iran is going under US and Europe sanctions for almost a decade. This issue peaking in recent years because of the US president putting the country on even more restrictions and boycotts such as the total economic embargo which has made so many financial difficulties not necessarily for the rulers, but those who actually live in the economy. That being said, the majority of people don’t have the freedom to get their hands on to so many things that are normal here and they struggle more and more due to the depreciation of Iran’s Rial currency. I’ve seen how my so called rich friends back then are now struggling even though they are still the lucky ones.
Because of the boycotts there are not many apps and websites available for people there. Imagine for opening a Paypal account, which is almost impossible, you have to show several documents and go through all these paper work with your bank and maybe they consider to open an account for you. Even the trading apps don’t work cause all the banks are under the sanctions. Some apps still function even with all these limitations, such as the dating app I’m in. Sometimes I pity “straight” people since they don’t have an app like this that connects many parts of the world together. Now that you can picture what my roots are and what it’s like in Iran nowadays.
About a year ago, this guy from Tehran texted me on the app. He really was a dream boat and you could say he was my type. I couldn’t stop looking at his pictures and his nice physique. It’s not hard to find a tall and fit Persian guy but this one looked so lean and natural and he had bright green eyes which is so rare for a middle eastern. Overall he looked good and he was around my age so I replied back. After the basic conversations of how he likes me and how I like him, he told me how much he really wanted get out of Iran and that’s why he changed the location in the app to Melbourne. He was actually surprised that I’m also Iranian cause obviously he didn’t know since you can’t really tell by the way I look. Anyways he told me about the marriage visa and all the rules and regulations in Victoria about it and I was so shocked how he’s done all the research. He even asked me about my savings and where I live and what type of visa I’m under. When I told him I’m a permanent resident I could literally sense how happy he was and offered me to have a civil marriage after he comes here. Obviously I refused and tried not to take it serious but he insisted that we should do this so he could get the visa and finally get out of the country. Come to think of it It’s sort of humorous how desperate one can become because of all the out of hand circumstances. But even now I feel for him and I wonder what would I be doing if I was stuck there if it wasn’t for my parents. I was so lucky to get out exactly 4 months before all the upcoming sanctions. So that person totally could have been me.
We decided to stay in touch and after a while he gave me his number so we could have video calls and get to know each other on deeper level. He texted me almost everyday cause he didn’t want to lose contact with the one and only gay Iranian in Melbourne. So we talked about our daily routines and school and all these normal things. One day when I had a huge argument with my mom, which happens often cause we’re pretty close, I told him about it and his response wasn’t like how to react about the things my mom says or what she does wrong. Instead he told me that he can’t really communicate with his parents cause his mom was very ill and his dad died when he was twelve. I didn’t want to get into details so I didn’t ask about the kind of illness and how his dad died. I was just sorry for him and sorry for myself for not knowing where I stand.
After that we didn’t video call for a while cause he was constantly working in order to pay for his mom’s medications and the coming surgery for her disc or lower back. As the duration of our last chat got longer and longer I felt that I should text him and ask if things are going good even though I was also busy at the time but you can always find time for this stuff. He suddenly called me and when I saw him I was shocked of how different he looked in such a short period of time. He looked exhausted and confused and hopeless. When I asked for the reason he told me that his mom has gotten worse and he only stays home now to take of her since he didn’t have any siblings and his family weren’t in touch for some reason. So now he couldn’t even work as much anymore to pay for the bills and the medications and at the age of 24. I could see how desperate he was for someone just to help him a little bit but he didn’t want to directly ask for it. He told me about the payments for the surgery which was 18 million Tomans (AU$ 1000) and he almost didn’t have anything because of all the bills and daily expenses. He couldn’t even get a loan or get help from the government cause It’s very difficult for a guy in his age. This really hit me and I wonder how some people even survive during times like this. I don’t want to brag about politics and things that we don’t fully understand. But all these restrictions whether it’s inside or outside, really effects people in a major way, specially those who can’t afford the loss.
Comparing my way of living and the values I hold to his circumstances, I got to the point to do the least that I could. I started a group chat with my friends and told them about the surgery and all that. Some of them didn’t care but those who did, actually suggested to pay as much as they could. In the end we raised around $700 all together. It wasn’t much but it could really help him. So I called him to get his bank information for transferring the money since one of my friends actually could change the currency to Iran’s Rial. When I told him about the money he started crying a bit but he couldn’t be more great full. His mom did the surgery and had to rest for about two months for recovery.
We still talk sometimes and I really don’t know what would have happened to him if it wasn’t for this very little amount of money. How the new world system can change the boundaries of a society is fascinating, yet devastating when it comes to people like this. I can’t be more thankful for the place I stand today but we should always consider helping those without a voice and that’s the least we can do.
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Don’t Waste Your Life
The alarm rang at 9:30 a.m., but Hamza did not move. He stared at the ceiling, scrolling endlessly through his phone. One video became ten. Ten became fifty. Outside his window, the sun had already climbed high, shining brightly over the small town where life was moving forward without him. Hamza was nineteen, full of dreams once—but lately, those dreams felt distant. He used to talk about becoming a civil engineer, about building strong bridges and tall buildings that would carry his name into the future. But now, his days were filled with excuses. “I’ll start tomorrow,” he often said. Tomorrow became next week. Next week became next month. His mother would gently knock on his door. “Beta, the day is going. Do something meaningful.” “I will,” he would reply lazily, never lifting his eyes from the screen. Hamza was not a bad person. He was kind, polite, and intelligent. But he had fallen into the dangerous habit of wasting time. He didn’t realize that time is the only treasure that never returns once spent. One evening, while wandering outside aimlessly, he noticed an old man sitting on a bench near the park. The man was writing in a small notebook, his hands wrinkled but steady. Curious and slightly bored, Hamza sat down beside him. “What are you writing?” Hamza asked. “My memories,” the old man replied with a soft smile. “I am writing about the life I lived.” “Was it a good life?” Hamza asked casually. The old man paused. His eyes grew distant. “Some parts were beautiful. Some parts… I wasted.” Hamza looked at him more closely. “When I was your age,” the old man continued, “I had many opportunities. I wanted to start a business. I wanted to travel. I wanted to learn new skills. But I kept delaying. I kept thinking I had plenty of time.” He closed the notebook slowly. “Now I am seventy-eight. I have time—but not the energy. I have wisdom—but not the years.” The words struck Hamza harder than he expected. “Do you regret it?” Hamza asked quietly. “Yes,” the old man said honestly. “Not because I failed. But because I never truly tried.” That sentence echoed in Hamza’s mind the entire night. Not because I failed. But because I never truly tried. Back in his room, Hamza stared at his ceiling again. But this time, his phone lay silent beside him. He imagined himself at seventy-eight, holding a notebook filled with regrets. The thought frightened him. He began thinking about his father, who worked long hours every day to support the family. About his mother, who prayed for his success. About his younger sister, who looked up to him as a role model. Was he truly living? Or was he just passing time? The next morning, Hamza did something unusual. He woke up at 6 a.m. The sky was still painted in soft shades of pink and orange. For the first time in months, he watched the sunrise. It felt different. He opened his notebook and wrote three simple goals: Study for three hours daily. Exercise for thirty minutes. Learn one new skill every month. They were small goals—but they were a start. The first week was difficult. His mind constantly whispered, “Just relax today. You can start tomorrow.” But he remembered the old man’s regretful eyes. He forced himself to continue. Slowly, discipline replaced laziness. He began preparing for university entrance exams seriously. He reduced his time on social media. He started reading books about successful people—not just their achievements, but their struggles. He learned that greatness is not built in comfort. It is built in effort. Months passed. Hamza didn’t become a genius overnight. He didn’t suddenly turn into a millionaire. But he changed in a deeper way—he respected his time. When friends invited him to waste hours doing nothing, he sometimes joined—but in moderation. He understood that rest is important, but wasting life is dangerous. One afternoon, he visited the park again. The old man was there, writing as usual. “You look different,” the old man observed with a smile. “I stopped waiting for tomorrow,” Hamza replied. The old man nodded slowly. “That is the secret. Tomorrow is a promise that is never guaranteed.” Hamza sat beside him and shared his new routine, his goals, and his small victories. The old man listened proudly. “Remember,” the old man said, “life is not about being busy every second. It is about being purposeful. Even a small step each day can change your entire future.” Years later, Hamza stood on a construction site, wearing a white helmet with his company’s logo printed on it. He had completed his engineering degree. It wasn’t easy. There were failures, sleepless nights, and moments of doubt. But he never returned to the habit of wasting time carelessly. He often told his team, “Time is like water in your hands. If you don’t use it wisely, it slips away.” One evening, after finishing work, Hamza visited the same park bench. The old man was no longer there. A local vendor told him softly, “He passed away last winter.” Hamza felt a wave of sadness—but also gratitude. He sat on the bench and opened his own notebook. He began writing: “Today I completed another project. I helped build something that will stand for decades. I am tired—but proud.” He smiled gently. He understood something powerful: Life is not wasted in one big mistake. It is wasted in small daily neglect. In endless scrolling. In constant delay. In fear of trying. And life is built the same way—through small daily efforts. Through discipline. Through courage to start. As the sun began to set, painting the sky golden, Hamza whispered to himself: “Don’t waste your life. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to begin.” The wind moved softly through the trees, as if agreeing. Every sunrise is a silent gift. It arrives without asking for anything in return. But it also carries a quiet question: What will you do with today? Hamza finally knew the answer. He would not waste it.
By The best writer 3 days ago in Motivation
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