I met someone about three weeks ago. You’d be surprised how! On Tinder, yes. I am, too. Given that Tinder is primarily a sex app and well, things usually don’t go anywhere at all, it was something I would credit the makers with. But, I need to hold on and not get ahead of myself.
I met him on Tinder, yes. It was a random swipe; actually no, it wasn’t. His picture wasn’t too clear. His face wasn’t showing. But I liked what was written on the profile. And, well, it was just a swipe right, anyway. What harm could that ever do?
We matched seconds later. And soon after, there was a message from him. We talked for most of that night on the app and it felt good to connect with someone like that. We shared a common love for EDM and good conversations. He explained the stock market to me. We talked about our travels and our trips, among other things. It was, at most a great conversation with a stranger on a lonely night. What harm could it possibly do?
I really did want to continue the conversation. But, I didn’t think much of anything more than it was supposed to be—a random Tinder conversation turned good. I gave him my number just before I signed off to bed—3 am. No, I never expected to hear from him again. But, I woke up in the morning to a few messages from him. So, he did actually note down my number and acted upon it in no time at all. His first message had been soon after I had slept. This would be a nice conversation, I thought to myself. What harm could it even do?
We’ve known each other for three weeks now. Exactly one week after we started talking, we had discovered a closeness between us that was, quite honestly, indescribable. One of the first things he ever told me was that he has a girlfriend. And I wondered why he would say that because it was always nice to make new friends, as I had told him. One week in to the conversation, we were talking about love, trust, losing and finding in a way that dared to defy boundaries. I knew he had a girlfriend. And I wasn’t even hoping for anything. He knew I had a mental image of him made up already and it spelled out clearly that we were not to date, or indulge in anything beyond what we had. But, two weeks into the conversation, we decided to meet for lunch, anyway—an idea so spontaneous that I was shocked when he came up with it; not to forget a little scared and apprehensive. Anyhow, this wasn’t going to be a date—just two new friends hanging out together. What harm could it ever do?
The next day, I woke up, got dressed—a little nervous; a little excited, but confident as ever. I felt happy. I called it a date anyway because of the way things had been going between us. We decided to meet at a Chinese place at 1 pm and break at 4 pm because he had a football match to go for. Cool. We arrived, ordered beers and food and never stopped talking. His football match got canned, he told me, halfway through our ‘date’. We talked about everything and nothing—our exes, our sexcapades, dating, relationships, people, places, ideas and everything. He asked if I wanted to join him for drinks later with two of his friends. I was a bit hesitant but, he tagged me along anyway. What harm would it do, anyway?
We met his friends and it went off better than anything I had expected. We had drinks and decided to head back to his place just to hang out. He asked me to come along. “I’ll drop you back, anyway,” he told me. What harm was that going to do, really?
En route, we talked more and then we reached his place and we all hung out, had fun and not once did I ever feel like I didn’t belong there. In fact, it just felt like I had met some friends after a really long time. At around 9 pm, we decided it was time to leave. The next day was a Sunday but the second girl was leaving for Canada and needed to get home and pack. We were in the car again—his friend’s car—and he asked me what my plans were for later that night. I had announced how I had to go to a newly opened pub where, surprisingly enough, they were headed, too. We decided to go together. This was going to be interesting, I thought. What harm could it do, eh?
At Tabula—the pub we were to go to, drinks poured in and so did people and at one point, his friend decided he was too pasted to stick around longer. It was just us two. We hung out there, talking between the music, meeting his friends from football and getting to know each other more. We realized we were getting closer than we had initially signed up for. His arm was around my waist, I was whispering into his ear. “No matter what happens, we stay friends, right?” he asked. “Of course,” I answered. What would happen anyway? We were enjoying the night together. It was soon time to leave and he suggested we take a cab back to his place since it was late and we weren’t sober enough to drive, anyway. I agreed. It was the sensible thing to do. No harm there…
About 15 minutes into the drive back to his place, we were already making out in the car. His lips never left mine and his hands never left mine. We reached our destination and things went further. Before we knew it, we were wrapped up in one another kissing, touching, holding and feeling things we weren’t supposed to feel. “I never expected this to happen.” “Neither did I.” “You have a girlfriend.” “I haven’t shaved.” These were all the words that came to us while we kissed and undressed each other. What harm would it do?
What happened that night between us was purely, 100 per cent consensual sex. No, it wasn’t just lust. It was a lot more than lust. It was a lot more than sex. He took my name, repeatedly as I went down on him. And I loved how it felt to be held against his body like that. All I could keep thinking every time we kissed touched each other and discovered new things was ‘Thank you’! It was the only thing I kept thinking till I could think no more. We knew what we were doing. We knew we were not planning on it. We knew this had supposed to be nothing more than a harmless lunch. Yet, there we were, in his bed, doing things that I daresay had imagined anyway but had never planned on it intentionally. Never. How did we get there! We were not drunk. We were sober enough to know each other’s names and yet, tipsy enough to want it even more. What started out as a lunch at 1 pm on a Saturday afternoon, ended up in one of the most phenomenal nights of our lives.
What harm… never mind.
To Be Continued…
[Image Courtesy: Unsplash]