Early on in my explorations, I got chatting to a guy — let’s call him Joe — who was in a successful, long-term nonmonogamous relationship. We met on a dating app, and chatted daily for months about all sorts: our kinks, our desires, our fantasies and importantly for me, his relationship. He was very open about their situation and answered all of my questions. We talked a lot about the work it took to maintain a nonmonogamous relationship and the lessons he and his partner had learned over the years, especially with regards to communication.
I found it fascinating and he quickly became my go-to source of information if I was curious about something. I learned an awful lot about what nonmonogamy could look like from Joe. And, all this time, we were also talking about meeting up but we never actually got around to it.
Until one day, when we were talking about some of our first date stories and the different ways of meeting people for the first time. We both had some tales to tell, from the good, to the bad, to the downright ugly. He then told me of a fantasy he had, which involved meeting someone in person for the first time and getting physical before any words were exchanged. This made me excited. But it also made me nervous. I am a thrill seeker and it appealed to my dangerous side, but I also knew the very real risks associated with this kind of thing.
Despite the trust I had in Joe, he was still in effect an unknown entity on the end of my phone, an internet stranger. Everything he had told me could very easily turn out to be a lie. But there were some green flags. We’d shared real-time pictures, so I knew the face he had posted on his dating profiles was actually him. Also, the length of time we’d been talking — and the lack of pushiness to meet — as well as the consistencies and the details in his stories made me feel safe. I ran a calculated risk analysis in my mind and, actually, he passed.
So, I said an enthusiastic yes and we got to planning.
I got ready to go meet him a few days later and the anticipation was intense. We chatted that day, hyping ourselves up and discussing the details – including what food I would like to eat “after”. His partner was going to be out but would be back at some point so I was also both nervous and excited at the thought of meeting her.
At the arranged time I left my place and made my way to his; he’d given me exact instructions of where to go and they weren’t simple – gates and blocks to navigate – and even less so given my nerves. I couldn’t wait, but I also kept wondering what I was doing. Bad dates for men tend to be categorised by a lack of sex. For women a bad date can be much more sinister… what if he was a murderer? As I stood at the door to his apartment block, reaching for the buzzer, I shook these thoughts away and allowed myself to trust my instincts. Our communication had been consistent and, as above, there were many, many green flags.
I buzzed his apartment number on the outside door and almost immediately it clicked open. I took a deep breath and walked in. The stairs were wide and carpeted, and it suddenly struck me that I was walking past other people’s homes. That thought made me both more excited and more nervous; the chances of getting caught were very real but for me there’s a thrill in that too. His apartment was on the third floor and I stopped on the staircase below to remove my tights and underwear as instructed and by this time my heart was beating out of my chest. I took a deep breath and walked up the remaining flight of stairs and as I did I could see him standing in his doorway. He watched me walk towards him, holding eye contact, and straight away my nerves disappeared and I was just left with excitement. There he was, in person, and he looked exactly like his pictures.
He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye and as I got closer he pulled down his trousers. He was already hard. Almost within touching distance, I hesitated for a moment, and fought back the urge to say, “Hello,” as I would have done on every single first meeting to date. Without saying a word, he took my bag and put it on the floor, and gestured for me to drop to my knees right there in his doorway. I obliged willingly and knelt in front of him, taking him in my mouth and the first sound I heard him made was a moan. He pulled me to my feet, turned me around, and used his fingers to check if I was turned on. Satisfied, he bent me over and took me from behind. There I was, looking out at the public staircase and the closed doors of his neighbours, with him, a relative stranger — equally, if not more, turned on than I — using my body for his own pleasure and giving me pleasure in return.
The whole thing didn’t last more than 10 minutes. Afterwards, he turned me around to face him again and said, “Hi,’ before kissing me. And then… it turned into a more conventional first date. He invited me in, we opened a bottle of wine and sat on his couch chatting in person about many of the things we’d learned about each other over text. We were both excited and before long we were having sex again; the ice was certainly broken. I stayed for a couple of hours and then his partner arrived too. We chatted for a while and then I took my cue to leave; but not before she’d lent me a book that she recommended to me.
All in all, the experience was a very beautiful one, but one that I did not take lightly. There were many layers of decision-making in the lead up to it, but ultimately I did trust my instincts and decision-making skills. It made me grateful to know that there are always wonderful people out there with whom you can turn fantasies into desires and realise them fully.
Joe and I saw each other a couple more times after that, and stayed in touch sporadically for a while more. But, ultimately, our lives became too busy and our priorities shifted and meant it never became a regular thing. It’s absolutely an experience I won’t forget and sometimes that’s all that matters.