About a month ago I started chatting with fellow blogger Ann St. Vincent (I wrote a post about it here). It started completely innocently when I sent her an email about one of her posts, but it quickly developed into an online romance. She’s a strong, independent, intelligent and beautiful woman; who wouldn’t start falling for her? The problem was that we lived thousands of miles apart.
That’s why we both chose pseudonyms for each other on our respective blogs. Whenever I wanted to write about Ann, I would write about “Julie”(a la, Julie Fucks Me, A Funny Conversation, Long Distance Friends With Benefits, Phone Sex, Julie Update).
Whenever Ann was writing about me, she would write about “Matthew”. We knew we were looking at long odds, so that was our way of playing it safe. If things didn’t work out for whatever reason, we could down-play the whole thing. Julie and Matthew would just disappear and life would continue as normal.
The big question was what if everything went well?
That was the scarier question. Things would be simple if it didn’t work out in person, hopefully we could go back to being friends online. But what if it went perfectly? That wouldn’t change the distances, it wouldn’t make anything simpler, it would only raise more questions. There was all this beautiful potential but until we actually spent time with each other we would never really know if that potential could go anywhere. To find out, we needed to actually meet.
So, two weeks ago we bought tickets to a central meeting place and booked a hotel room for a five-day, extended weekend together.
There was all the usual, flirty banter with her before the flight. “Why are you packing so many clothes? Just bring a change of underwear and a swim suit. Going to spend the whole time in the hotel room. Lol.” However, I would be lying if I said I didn’t have some butterflies. And yet, there I was getting on a plane to go spend five days with her, no distractions, nothing except me and her in one small room for five days. It was either going to be amazing or a catastrophe, a five hour flight and we would soon find out.
Her flight arrived an hour before mine, I didn’t arrive until just before midnight.
I got out of the cab in front of the hotel, which was locked up for the night. Ann had sent a text when my plane landed, telling me to text when I got to the hotel so she could come down and let me in.
I didn’t text her right away. I sat down on a bench out front, in the darkness, and watched cars drive by. It was a nice night, a good temperature with a cool breeze. I sat there for a few minutes, trying to let the nerves quiet down a bit before sending the text.
“I’m outside,” I sent.
She came down to the door, pushed it open, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. There she was, the woman I’d been imagining, the woman from the photos, the voice from the phone, standing in front of me. Her long blond hair framed her face and gave her an angelic look when back-lit by the lobby’s lights. She was beautiful. It was almost hard to process, actually seeing her in person.
We gave each other nervous grins and said hello. Then I stepped in close to her, slowly moved in and kissed her gently on the lips. Our touch was warm and almost tentative. I’ve read that the first kiss is one of the most important factors for a woman, that she can tell within a few touches whether it was going to go any further.
I pulled back a little and looked at her, she looked back at me with a twinkle in her eye. Then she led me to the hotel room. The nerves began to calm down.
In the hotel room we kissed again, far less tentatively. I made sure to appreciate her lingerie for an appropriate amount of time before removing it.