Yesterday afternoon, a friend started a conversation with me on Dubai marriage requirements.

His feigned tone of casualness suggested that there was crisis at hand.

After all, what could possibly motivate a boy in his early 20s, still fresh out of the university and who just moved to a brand new city, into a lifelong commitment ASAP?

That’s a rhetorical question, of course.

The “Juno” GIF was a big giveaway.

This friend is only a couple of years younger than me.

Truth be told, I don’t really know much about him, other than the shared experience of moving to Dubai at an age when you’re too old to be a teenager and too young to be a proper adult.

Over a quarter-century ago, marrying straight out of university was not only acceptable but also the only logical step to prove you’re an adult: make a suitable match, start a family, have at least 2 kids before you hit 30.

That was what my parents did, anyway.

And their parents before them.

Were people’s brains wired differently back then?

Why were they physically and mentally capable of starting families in their early 20s, when today’s millennials are only concerned about going on journeys of “self-discovery”?

Don’t get me wrong.

There are still be a handful of millennials out there who are following their parents’ footsteps, and the ones I know personally lead very fulfilling lives in the absence of Instagram-worthy vacation photos.

Unfortunately, I just don’t think this friend is one of them.

I distinctly remember his noncommittal answer when questioned about marrying his long-time college girlfriend.

That was 3 weeks ago.

Yesterday afternoon when I asked him the exact same question, he responded “Of course” without a thought.

Where does conviction end and recklessness begin?

I wanted to tell him off for being a child, but if he were that, then what am I?

Instead, I asked him if his mother knew.

She did, but his girlfriend’s mother didn’t yet.

But de facto mother-in-law is the least of their problems.

Because an out-of-wedlock pregnancy is a crime punishable in the UAE.

What is now considered the new “normal” in the Philippines (if only for its prevalence) remains a stigma in the Muslim world.

It is not uncommon to read about single pregnant expat women who are sentenced to jail time, deportation, and a lifetime ban on the news.

If their partners take the fall too, then they can share the same sentence.

Last week, I read about the case of a Filipino woman who got pregnant after a one-night stand with an Indian man whose name she did not even know.

The comments were ruthless personal attacks on the woman.

Most of them were from her fellow Filipinos.

While I don’t condone her actions, moving to Dubai has taught me a great deal about these so-called “indiscretions” and their consequences.

Back in the Philippines, I had a fairly limited social circle composed of “good” people – certainly far from perfect — but they very rarely strayed from conventional norms.

In Dubai, on the other hand, I encounter – and sometimes even befriend – all sorts of people: serial adulterers, nymphomaniacs (and their male counterparts, satyromaniacs), prostitutes (and their Johns), cougars, embezzlers, compulsive liars…

And they are not all that “bad.”

While I can still say that my principles are intact, I use the words “good” and “evil” (especially the latter) far more conservatively now.

Because when I sit down and have a proper conversation with these people, I hear their side of the story.

I learn about their motivations, their present circumstances, their personal histories, and every other factor leading up to that one action.

An action I could very easily commit myself if I were in their place.

I remember a friend’s snide remark when I first told him about my plans to move to Dubai.

“Just make sure you don’t come back home with a ‘trophy’.”

A ‘trophy’ is a Filipino euphemism for a baby, more often than not, born out of wedlock.

I remember laughing it off, thinking that I was far too superior to make that mistake.

But now, I realize that I’m not “above it all” at all.

I could very well be that nameless woman on the newspaper.

And if I am fortunate enough to live the rest of my life on a “clean” slate, I’d still make it my life’s mission to help those who are not, in fact, as fortunate as me.

And sometimes the only help they need is to not be judged.

Most, if not all of them, already know that what they did was wrong.

What they need is compassion, not another pointing finger.