A Tinder Hook-up From An Inexperienced Girl’s Perspective

We matched on Tinder at 8 pm on a Friday night, yet he didn’t message me. So I messaged him. Hey. He replied after a few minutes. Hey. And our conversation started. My face brightened up every time I got a new message from him and my heart jumped right out of my chest as he asked, “So what’s your plan tonight?”

His name was James. The classic Tinder James who is so ridiculously delicious that red flags don’t matter anymore. The James who always does everything just effortlessly, ambivalently enough to keep you guessing and sticking around for more. The troubled James. The emotionally unavailable James who is never not in a weird phase in life.

Yes, I knew it. I wasn’t dumb and my intuition was always on point. But it was a Friday night and, frankly, I was horny and he was just too hot to pass. After all, I mean, I was an adult and I was single. So I told myself, fuck it, what’s being guilty for?, then went ahead and replied boldly and flirtatiously to his text message like I was a Tinder pro.

Well, I wasn’t. In fact, I had never hooked up with anyone from Tinder before I matched with James, yet somehow I just didn’t want him to think I was inexperienced. Anyway, he said he would text me after he was done with his party.

So 1 am rolled around and I got a text from him. He asked me if I was up. I waited a good 10 minutes before I responded to him saying I just got back home. I lied. I had been home the whole evening. I just didn’t want him to think I was waiting around for him.

We texted back and forth then I gave him my address. Half an hour later he came. I looked out the window and saw him coming out of a black cab, looking just as fine as his photos.

I went down to pick him up. The lift ride, in my opinion, was fairly awkward. I didn’t know what to say. My lips were sealed as I felt like a little girl in third grade seeing her crush. I tried to be cool though the truth is, deep inside I was afraid he might realise he was out of my league and change his mind right then.

So I did what I did best — I kept quiet and smiled at him the whole time. Maybe he was so used to this kind of casual arrangement that he didn’t bother to make small talk either. As soon as we got inside my tiny student flat, he grabbed me and we headed straight to the bed. We fucked. It was all blurry.

7.30 am, I opened my eyes. It was still pretty dark outside. He was there, in my small double bed that barely fitted him, sleeping soundly. My head rested on one of his arms. His feet rubbed against mine. His body heated up my body which was usually cold. I watched him sleep. It felt strange. I hadn’t had a man in my bed for quite a while.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed and awakened him. I pretended to be sleeping as he tried to find his phone. I heard him talk to his friend, briefly explaining his whereabouts. His voice was so distinctly husky that I thought I could have an orgasm just by listening to it.

10.30 am, he had been back to sleep and was still sleeping. I quickly went to the bathroom and put on some basic make-up then sneaked back into bed, holding onto his arm. I pressed my fingers onto his skin, felt the heat and the softness of it and realised how nice it was to have a grown man in my bed.

Soon afterward, he got up and dressed. As he checked himself out in the mirror and fixed his hair, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and suddenly felt terribly insecure. My morning face was nowhere near gorgeous as he was.

I knew it was superficial but I just wished I could be so attractive he couldn’t wait to do it again like I was feeling about him then. We made some small talk then he left. I regretted not talking more to him.

After that night, I put all my effort into being cool and sassy to him in text messages and on social media in the hope that he would want to see me again. I seriously didn’t know why.

I thought I was sure of myself and well-prepared for the possibility of a one-night-stand and nothing more but as it turned out, I was wrong. I didn’t really know what I was looking for. I couldn’t even tell if it was my hormone, the need to validate what happened or if I genuinely liked something about him that I just wanted to get to him somehow.

A week later, after some sporadic text messages, he came back. It wasn’t like he was eager about it or anything. He just low-key offered, “I can come if you want me to”, after I had contacted him and suggested getting together again. I asked if he would also like to have dinner at home with me, to which he replied, sure.

When he arrived, he didn’t bring anything with him to my flat and mentioned he had left his stuff in the car. Now I realise it was because he hadn’t actually decided if he wanted to stay the night, yet at the time, I naively assumed it and told him to just go get it. He did. I asked if he was hungry. He seemed hesitant about the idea of dinner then yet I got him to eat with me anyway.

We barely said anything to each other throughout the meal except for some generic chit chat. I felt like there was constantly food stuck in my throat that made me unable to say anything interesting, or you know, just things that I usually talked to my friends about that actually showed my personality.

After that, we got back to my bedroom and watched a movie. It was a comedy which I wasn’t into at all but he appeared to find funny. Twenty minutes in, I got bored and started to touch him. I didn’t know why I did that as I believed I was interested in getting to know him this time. It was 10 pm and we had sex again.

I made him moan and cum and by 11 pm, we were lying naked next to each other. Finally, we started to talk. Like, proper human-to-human talk.

I got more relaxed and comfortable and figured he was feeling the same. We talked about where we came from, what we were doing with our lives and our future plans. For a moment I wished we had done this over dinner instead of after sex because it was lovely and it wasn’t that awkward to be more personal.

I thought maybe I could open up myself to him after all. So I told him earnestly I wanted to be a writer. He seemed surprised then he laughed, asking with a tone that could be interpreted as mocking, “A writer?” It caught me off guard. Though instead of embracing myself, I passed it off as a silly-me joke. He didn’t ask any more questions about it and I didn’t tell him anything further.

Suddenly I didn’t know what I was doing with this guy. After a little more banter, it was the end of our conversation. We had one more round of sex then called it a night.

6.30 am, I couldn’t sleep. I turned to the side and saw him sleeping deeply and unwarily like a giant baby. I bet he must have done this many, many times that he could just fall asleep easily in any bed. On the contrary, I was feeling really tired as his snoring and turning had kept me up almost all night. It struck me right then that I genuinely just wanted him out of my bed.

Around 9 am, I couldn’t stand it anymore so I woke him up. As a true Tinder pro, he immediately got the hint and didn’t overstay the welcome. He still looked gorgeous as usual, yet I was no longer concerned about it then. I friendly sent him to the front door and said goodbye to him. After that, I went back to sleep. It was probably one of the best nights of sleep I’d ever had in my life.

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