Mr. Handball

Miranda – In September of this year, I went on an epic solo vacation to Israel and Cyprus. To sum up my trip, think beaches, booze, partying, falafel, and orthodox Jews. Although meeting boys wasn’t a large aspect of my trip, I did walk away with one experience that is impossible not to share.

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This story is probably as close as I’m going to get to a Disney fairytale love story minus the G rating and the happily ever after ending. Picture this: an exhausted and gross looking me carrying a massive backpack, standing outside the Tel Aviv airport trying to figure out how to get to my hostel. I have just been informed that since it was Shabbat, the whole country, including trains and transportation, had been shut down. Lucky me. There must have been a look of panic and stress on my face because a man with a suitcase approached me asking if I needed help. Turns out he was an undercover security guard posing as a tourist. He guided me to the taxis as that was now my only option to get to the city, but not before asking me for my number. Still frazzled and confused, I gave it to him – not out of interest but more out of not wanting to reject him after helping me, and who knows what type of heat he was packing under his fake tourist clothes.

I head over to the taxi stand and try to call one through a machine. Beside me I hear someone say “don’t do that – it’s a waste of time. Just order it from the person over there.” I turn around and there’s this tall, hot guy, later to be known as Mr. Handball, walking past me. I yell thank you and start talking to the taxi coordinator, only to be in shock at the price to get to Tel Aviv. Still carrying my backpack, the hot guy is now in a taxi and motions for me to come over. I guess he too, noticed my anxiety, because he asked if I want to split the taxi with him since we’re headed in the same direction. His dad was seated in the front of the taxi, so it made me feel comfortable enough to say yes and literally get in a car with a stranger. We talk in the backseat throughout the drive and the driver drops them off first, but not before Mr. Handball asks for my number. Surprised yet again, this time however, I willingly gave my number. After he left, I couldn’t help but thinking: I’ve been in Israel for less than an hour, and have already been picked up twice. This is definitely something I could get used to.

Fast forward to the next day, Mr. Handball messages me and offers to take me out and show me around. I’m totally game and he picks me up Saturday night at 11pm from my hostel. He’s hotter than I remember and I’m already looking forward to my first Israeli hookup. Only in the car does he tell me that he’s a professional handball player and his first game of the season is the next day. Because of this, we can’t go to bars or clubs in Tel Aviv as we had originally planned because he can’t be seen out drinking the night before a game and Tel Aviv is relatively small, so he would definitely run into people he knew. Instead, we drive to a quiet street and sit on a closed restaurant’s patio drinking from my little Smirnoff mickey I brought (I always like to be prepared). He then pulls out some cigarettes, tells me he shouldn’t be smoking before the game either, but we go ahead and share a few anyways. I’m getting drunk at this point and he pulls me over to his lap and brings me in for a kiss. At this point we’ve run out of alcohol, so he offers going back to his place to grab some more alcohol before we go out to a club. Ignorant little me thought we’d just swing by his place first to quickly to down some shots and then head out but of course, we ended up having sex (which would seem obvious, in hindsight). Mr. Handball mentions that having sex before a game is also not good for performance but it’s not like it stopped his advances on me nor did I give a shit of how he played tomorrow as long as he was playing me well now.  By now it’s past 2am and all the clubs are near closing but we try driving around to find a nearby spot anyways. With no luck finding anything open at this time, he takes me to the beach and picks up some Israeli snacks for me to try (side note – they have the most amazing Cheetos type things made out of peanuts, it’s divine). It was a mixture of chilled out talking and cheeky high school fooling around until 5am before he dropped me back off at my hostel.

The next day he messaged me saying his team lost the game. I guess at this point I shouldn’t even be surprised, he did warn me. But – I was clear from the get-go that he couldn’t put the blame on me for making the decision to drink, smoke and have sex before a big game.

All in all, it is one of my personal favourite hookup stories. It’s just too bad it started from the moment I landed and began my vacation, as nothing after that lived up to the hype and excitement of my meeting Mr. Handball.

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Mr. Laid in the Loo

Our lovely, loyal followers already know that Sam and Pam were just in South Am kicking ass and taking names  hiking mountains and running from the Irish. We were on the tail end of our trip and to that point everything had been perfect, except for one little thing…I was missing a classic Sam story for the blog! No one had really piqued my interest all that much and so around the time that I’d turned down pink shirt, I decided that this trip would be focused on hiking instead of hooking up. Well, you know what they say about life right? It’s what happens when you’re busy making plans, and I soon learned that these two things were not mutually exclusive.

It was our last night in Cusco with an early flight to Lima the next day, so Pam and I weren’t drinking when we went down to the hostel bar. Instead we focused on dancing like no one was watching with a friend we’d made earlier in the trip. We were having a blast acting like fools when I noticed a 6”4ish blonde and his shorter, also blonde friend looking our way. I locked eyes with him for a second, smiled, then immediately turned back around. Next thing I know the blondies had joined our dance party, followed by a 6”4ish brunette and a couple other stragglers all looking to break it down on the D floor.

Later that night a (platonic) friend of mine also in town from the 6ix met us at the bar with some friends in tow. He too is 6”4ish and we chatted a bit, catching up on the fun we’d been having on our respective trips. My next few hours flew by, mainly consisting of extremely aggressive vogueing, scream-singing Snoop D.O. Double G, and ping-ponging between 3 men over 6″4. I had died and gone to heaven. When my platonic pal went to find his buddies later on that night I focused my attention on sussing out the vibe of both Blondie and Brunette. I couldn’t really decide between the two, both were tall, cute and British,  so just continued to wheel the two of them and waited to see where the night would take me…Eventually I noticed that whenever the brunette wasn’t around I would try to catch his attention, so I settled my sights on him as it seemed my subconscious was making a decision on my behalf.

We started dancing and doing that thing where you “accidentally” bump into each other often enough to smoothly transition to handholding. Then you keep on dancing with physical contact until you can transition to the classic grind, which soon evolves to full on making out…you know that move, right? Shortly after that first kiss Blondie told the brunette that he was leaving for the night. Now, I have no definitive proof of whether or not his departure had anything to do with me, but he didn’t say goodbye despite me standing right there, so let’s just say that maybe he didn’t love being blown off. “Oh well”, I thought, I’d made my choice and without distractions from my tall platonic friend or the tall blonde friend it was time to crank it up a notch.

We kept dancing and kissing, but I eventually tired of the cigarette smell in the bar and suggested we go outside. We headed to some loungers under the stars but in my mind I already knew where this little make out sesh would likely end up…in another hostel bathroom. I know, I KNOW! It is a ridiculous trend to have your brand be “hooks up in hostel bathrooms” but what was I to do??? When you’re both staying in the hostel your options are extremely limited so we decided on a stall and immediately got naked. This guy was packing heat and was very eager to please, which is an excellent combo if I do say so myself. I was feeling breathless but couldn’t tell if it was because of our amazing chemistry of the fact that we were 3500 meters above sea level. Whether or not it was aided by the altitude  the whole thing was insanely hot, even with me maneuvering my ass up and down while simultaneously preventing our clothes from peeking out from under the stall.

My attempts were futile and in the midst of our bathroom bang there was a rap on the door from Security. Giggling like idiots we quickly dressed and left the bathroom. Luckily no sex police were waiting to take us away  and we only had to contend with the all-knowing stares of other hostel goers sitting just outside the bathroom. Hey, we’d just had pretty phenomenal sex in there so at least they got a good show. In all the excitement I managed to lose an earring and he was down one t-shirt and a pair of boxers but we both knew the night was not over. We headed back to our lounger chairs still giggling and still horny, so we smoked a little weed and then headed up to my room hoping everyone in there would be asleep (I was in a 6-room dorm and he was in a 12, so it was a lesser of 2 evils).

The rest of the night was absolutely amazing and according to my fitbit I got very little sleep ;). You’d be surprised about how much room you actually have on a hostel bed and we definitely made the most of it. As I sat on top of him with no attempt to hide anything I wondered, “had I become an exhibitionist?” This thought didn’t last long even if my guy did (hehe) and we hooked up again the next morning after what can only be described as a nap, then I headed for the airport with a kiss goodbye. Luckily upon debriefing with Pam she said that she hadn’t heard anything from the night before, and while I can’t say the same for the restless dude above my bed, I’d already landed in Lima before I had to face any potential consequences.

So there you have it. For someone who didn’t expect to have any sort of night at all, this screamed of classic Samantha (even if I personally had to keep the screams to a minimum). The whole night was spontaneous, sexy, a little slooty and involved hostel bathrooms. It’s a strange brand, but if it means I continue having fun experiences with interesting people in beautiful places then I say bring on the bathrooms!

The Unluck of the Irish

It was the vacation we were highly anticipating – Sam and I were off  to South America for three weeks to hike, relax and of course find some blog stories. In typical Pam fashion, this story is very me (so basically rated PG) it still has some giggles and fun in it, and sorts of selective irresponsibility – at least more than I’m used to.

Our story starts with Sam and I sitting in a café enjoying lake views a few days into our travels. As we finished, we noticed these two adorable boys walk in and sit at the table beside us. Sam and I eyed each other, having not really met any cool and cute English speaking friends yet we saw this as our perfect opportunity. We mustered up the courage and played dumb asking them about their accents (though they were unmistakably Irish), our small talk opener landed them a seat at our table and we began chatting. The boys were cute and fun, maybe a little young for us but we rolled with it because they were the most entertaining people that we had met. A bit of chatting later, and they asked our plans for the night. Since we were in a pretty low pro city with very minimal nightlife, their offer to watch the sunset with a joint sounded like a perfect night.

We had planned to watch the sunset from our hotel, but once we arrived we saw that a big hill was blocking our view. Our one Irish friend had a wonderful idea (I say with sarcasm) to run up and watch it from the top of the hill mountain. Sam was super into the idea and ran ahead, leaving me and my Irish boy at the bottom. This is where I curse Sam – being not dressed and ready for the hike and also not yet acclimatized to the 3800 masl altitude and now I had to “hike cute” with this boy. My hiking cute thing didn’t last long, but as I walked my Irish friend stayed sweet, even holding my hand parts of the way up and chatting with me. Eventually, feeling too focused to just make it up, I sent the Irish boy up and slowly made it up after them, just making it in time for the sunset. We enjoyed the chill vibes and sunset and had a lot of fun chatting these new Irish friends – Sam and I both wondering if we’d make it a blog post even though they were a few years younger. Once we finally made it down (try hiking an uneven path down a mountain in the dark), we discussed what to do next. Maybe it was everyone’s own confusion, or the fact we were making plans with young Irish boys but we couldn’t manage to make solidified plans with our new friends – meaning that our night was over.

We did manage to say bye to our new friends the next day – hearing that they proceeded to stay in their room and get “fucked up” for the duration of the night, while Sam and I opted for some Netflix and sleep. Maybe better off we didn’t end up hanging out with them, but still gave us a fun/cute adventure and set the tone for our love of Irish friends.

Which leads me to our next eventful evening at a hostel bar. Sam and I were expecting (and I was surprisingly ready for) a fun and wild night, so we were hoping that the hostel would deliver. After sitting with a few friends we made, Sam and I started scoping the bar for hot boys – hopefully a duo. Sam pointed out the hot guy in the pink shirt, and my eyes immediately darted to his friend and it was a go. We jumped in at the opportunity to comment about the glitter on their faces, and found ourselves Irish boys 2.0. Sam again went for the tall brunette, as I chatted up the shorter blonde guy. Looked like we found our pots of gold, and stayed with them at the bar. Let me say, wheeling boys at the bar is definitely not my forte, so as Sam quickly and naturally chatted up her boy I was still awkward and very sober. Luckily (maybe?) for me, my Irish boy was nice and forward making it easy for me and I can say I was proud of myself for flirting back better than I usually ever do. Apparently, he got a good read on it too because without notice mid conversation he leaned in and began making out with me.

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I can’t remember my last bar make-out and for good reason – because I hated it. I could tell Sam had seen, and thought it was hilarious, as I tried to steer away from him before he could make out with me again. I did think he was cute, and maybe now wasn’t the opportune time to tell him that I don’t make out with boys in public bars. He went for it again and I kissed back a bit, but as Sam describes I basically stood there and let him make out with me. He then proceeded to ask if I wanted to go to the corridor. I don’t know what the hell he wanted to do there, but I saw it as my perfect out and proceeded to say “No thank you, I’m going to dance on the bar with Sam” and ran away.

So maybe all that glittered wasn’t gold that night, but it was one of my more scandalous evenings that now warrants a blog post. Shortly after finding Sam, we proceeded to leave but Sam’s Irish man wanted her to stay. After a quick dilemma, I sent her back to the bar to find her pot of gold, but he had taken it as a sign of disinterest and went along back to the end of the rainbow. Though Sam may describe it as an unsuccessful evening (or two), I figured it would be good content for a blog post – and also highlight our apparent interest in Irish boys (don’t be surprised when our next stories come from our vacation to Ireland…just kidding). But in typical Pam fashion, I had to share my “wild” nights abroad!

Señor San Fran

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If you’ve been reading my posts lately you’d know that I was in San Francisco last week and definitely not behaving myself, which makes for the best blog content (if I do say so myself). And if you’ve been reading along, you’d know that I’d been on a pub crawl the night before, meeting tons of new people all with the same thing on their mind: hooking up.

At bar two on the pub crawl, I met Señor San Fran, a tall, dark and handsome glass of water from Mexico (lol, yes I’m a huge tool) who sang me Happy Birthday and bought endless rounds of drinks. I’d never hooked up with a Latin guy before, but was definitely interested in getting chipotlaid and liked his vibe. We exchanged numbers and apparently he’d tried to message me that night, but a lack of service on my end had different plans. The next day I saw an undelivered text to an unknown number in my phone and messaged it via WhatsApp like the 21st century thirst trap I am.

Well, I’m glad I did because on my last night in San Fran I hit the bars HARD with Señor SF, Charlotte, and a couple friends we’d made along the way. After a long night of beer olympics, a Dancehall club and a house party in the middle of nowhere, we ended up together on a bench outside my dorm . The time was 3 in the morning and I had to leave for the airport at 5 am, but despite being so tired that I couldn’t formulate sentences I was determined to get a goodbye kiss.

Eventually he leans in and plants one on my cheek of all places…My facial expression, which must’ve read something like “Dafaq”, prompted him to say “That was super lame wasn’t it”. I nod and he reaches under my chin and pulls me in for a real freaking kiss. I mean, DAMN. Fireworks people.

From there things went from 0 – 100 real quick. He asks if I want to go to the shower down the hall (the same shower from the night before I might add…for SHAME Samantha) and I say “yes” unsure how to tell him that I have already fornicated in that room and would prefer to desecrate a new location. Again, hooking up in hostels is HARD.

Compared to the night before, which was rushed and intense, this was soft and slow…but equally, if not more, awesome. You know what they say about Latin lovers amirite? In fact, I didn’t even realize how hot it really was until some guy yelled at us to shut up…I’ve never really been one for discretion….Sarrrrry.

After getting dressed and saying our goodbyes I went back to my dorm to grab Charlotte and our suitcases…it was time to go to the airport.

I may not have gotten much sleep that night but it was well worth it, and texting him back and forth since then hasn’t been half bad either. I guess I took the phrase “ending with a bang” to a whole new level this trip and couldn’t have asked for a better end to an already incredible vacation. Damn, between Monsieur Formidable last year and now UK Bae/Señor SF, I’m clearly spending my birthdays travelling the world more than just geographically, if you now what I mean 😉

Mr. UK Bae

I’ve been told that the story of this night seems so ridiculous that it is like something out of a movie. As such, like most movies this post comes with a rating:

R – the following blog post is rated R for Relationship. If you are in a relationship, proceed reading with caution and hold all judgement for the comment section below.

Mr. UK Bae, a film by Samantha Jones.

The scene is downtown San Francisco. Two girls (Samantha and Charlotte) are on vacation and staying in a dorm at a hostel. A couple from London, Mr. UK Bae and his girlfriend of a year “Andie” are in the dorm as well. Andie looooves UKB, but he’s a little more meh about her.

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That night, all 4 attend the hostel pub crawl along with 50 of their new best friends. The night starts off as innocuous as any and at the second stop of the night everyone finds out it’s Samantha’s birthday. From there the drinks start flowing and soon enough she is very drunk….the following is her account of the rest of that night….

My 24th birthday was one of the best of my life. I was on vacation in San Francisco, had gotten my first tattoo earlier that day, and was having the time of my life with not a care in the world. The only thing getting me down was “Ken”, a guy from my hostel who could not take a hint and was hanging off my neck most of the night. By the third bar I was officially over this stage-75 clinger and asked UK Bae for help in getting away from him. He grabbed my hand and led to the dance floor out of the clutches of Klinger Ken. There, amongst the crowd of gyrating bodies, we stood perfectly still,  holding hands and not breaking eye contact. I don’t know what it was about this guy but from the moment we met I was attracted to his vibe. Now, standing there on the packed dance floor I was definitely feeling a slightly different vibe, so dropped his hand and walked away to grab another drink.

Some time (and many drinks) later I stumbled outside for some much needed fresh air. I stood there catching my breath when UK Bae walks around the corner laughing at me standing there doubled over, trying not hurl.

I honestly don’t know who made the first move but the next thing I know he’s pressed me up against a wall and we’re engaged in what I can only describe as the hottest make out session of my whole damn life. I know it was morally wrong, this is why I put the rating at the beginning of the post, but something about the “badness” of the situation made the whole thing 10000% hotter and I was totally caught up in the heat of the moment.

We reluctantly separate and go back to the bar to avoid suspicion, where Charlotte and Andie are looking for us to hit the next bar on the list. Andie was NOT happy that she’d been left alone and broke down begging him never to leave her again. He told her he’d been helping me since I was sick (semi-true) and Charlotte accepted this at face value, I have no idea what Andie must’ve been thinking.

We acted causal the rest of the night and ended up heading back to our dorm in a pack including him and I, Andie, Charlotte and the guy she picked up for the night, and a blonde AF, Frodo-looking sir who really wanted to walk me home. Friggen squad goals. I suppose a nicer person would’ve felt guilty about the situation but maybe I’m not all that nice a person…Help me out here people, was I wrong to break “Girl Code” or is the onus on him to not make a fool of his girlfriend? The cavalier way in which he so easily crossed that line REALLY makes me suspect I am not the first person to be his “Other Woman”…I’m not justifying my actions…but maybe I am.

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Back in our shared dorm, I’m on the top-bunk when I get a very racy text from the bed across from mine. It was UK Bae. In what felt like a scene from a really bad teen movie we begin texting back and forth what we want to do to the other while Andie and Charlotte lie sleeping below us. The whole thing was so naughty that the tension was almost too much to take. We planned to wait till everyone was asleep to make our move and I eventually fell asleep too.

A few strong taps wake me up and and soon I’m on my way to meet him in the shower room down the hall. Why the shower room you may ask? Well, hooking up in hostels is HARD, especially when the person you’re hooking up with is travelling with a significant other. I don’t think she was too interested in having a threesome, so we needed to make alternative plans.

Anyway, after all that build up we immediately got it on in what was one of the sexiest experiences I’ve had in a long time. I’m a girl who likes a little roughness and he seemed to know just what I wanted. The whole thing didn’t last more than 15 minutes, but hey, after about 5 hours of foreplay can you really blame the guy?

We head back to our respective beds and I wake up the next morning still turned on from the events of the night before. Hell, I’m even getting a little turned on thinking about it as I write this. He had some sort of crazy sexual hold over me where all logic and morality flew out the window, replacing all my thoughts with the image of us fooling around in that alley outside the bar.

Now, I know what I did wrong. Andie is a very nice girl and had any guy done that to a friend of mine I’d castrate him. But the circumstances and distance between their lives and mine made the whole thing feel surreal, and boy did it feel good to be bad. By the time Charlotte and I returned to our hostel the next night they’d checked out (this was planned and not a consequence of our actions) so whether or not he tells her is none of my concern. All I can say is Happy Birthday to me, I’m one year older, wiser and a little sluttier too 😛

Mr. Special Ops

Carrie – When my friend offered me her place to stay in Seoul and my credit card supplied me with free flights, I impulsively booked my four Asian-metropolis trip for May: Tokyo, Shanghai, Busan and Seoul.

We met interesting people along the way, that’s for sure. One night in Tokyo, we ended up at as the only two girls at this karaoke bar, where I proceeded to get serenaded and dipped by the big, burly bartender to Enrique Iglesias’ “Hero” (song is forever ruined).

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Cue to my last weekend Seoul, where I develop what I will term “Seoul Goggles” which is essentially a “do it for the blog” mentality.

Continue reading “Mr. Special Ops”

The Click

101009784Everyone has had a similar experience, whether with a friend or a romantic partner, you’ve met someone and instantly “clicked”. From the moment you two saw each other there was some sort of a metaphysical connection that drew you to one another.

It’s something more than mere attraction, it is as if something in the universe says you two need to connect. There’s no fighting it, like two magnets pulled together, your attraction is guaranteed.

I met K last summer while staying at a hostel. A friend of mine had a little too much to drink so I ended up dragging her butt back from the bar and taking care of her for a solid portion of the night. While sitting on the floor holding a garbage can to her face and trying to force feed her bread this insanely handsome guy came down the stairs and took a seat on the steps right in front of us. He kept me company while I consoled her and stayed to keep chatting after I finally managed to put her to bed.

We only spoke for a few hours that night because he had to catch a flight home in the morning. With no kiss or steamy one-night stand, we added each other on facebook and parted ways.

I’ve never had such an immediate connection to another human being. In those few hours I felt as though I wanted to tell him everything. It was an indescribably feeling, as if we were meant to play some sort of role in the others life.

After our wonderful chat I came to terms that I would never see K again but just a few days later he contacted me. We ended up speaking almost every day for a year. He became one of my closest friend. On the rare occasion, when we would video chat rather than message, we would talk for hours about everything you could image … our friends, travels, politics, aspirations and most importantly, one day, seeing each other again.

A year later I get to finally see my newly found best friend in the flesh. Against all odds our connection has maintained it’s strength and will soon be bringing us back together.

I have no idea if this person is meant to play a larger role in my life or not. Perhaps as a friend, companion, lover, or maybe our journey is intended to end upon our reunion. I can’t anticipate what will happen, but I’m excited to find out.

Mr. New York – Part 1

Miranda – My heart is pounding. My thoughts are erratic. I can’t sleep and when I finally do, I only dream of him.

Mr. New York. A fitting name, not only because he is from New York but, like the city itself, he makes me feel like anything’s possible. The world’s my oyster and someone incredible is out there for me, even if they live in a different country.

Let’s rewind to about 3 weeks ago when I decided to try my luck on OkCupid again. As you can tell from my previous posts, I haven’t exactly been successful on Tinder so I’m giving OkCupid another shot. After spending a week on there, I have become inundated with messages from slimy men and I’m left feeling quite unenthused with this alternate form of dating. Yes, maybe the messages themselves aren’t as sexually charged but the greasy moustached men aren’t particularly doing it for me either. I was losing hope fast until I received a message from an adorably dimpled guy from New York.

Oddly enough, earlier that day I met up with my ex-boyfriend for lunch, a year after from our breakup (a story for another time), and I finally got the closure I needed from that brief but intense relationship. I was ready to start again, turn the page, wipe the chalkboard clean, and whatever other kitschy line there is to depict a new beginning. So, Mr. New York popped into my life at the perfect moment. You might be wondering why I would even consider responding to someone so far away but my logic was “fuck it – YOLO, he’s cute and I don’t have much to lose at this point.”

2 days later, my phone had become glued to my hands. Our messages are fast and furious and I’m finding myself quickly gaining feelings for Mr. New York. He’s sweet, genuine, and so much fun to talk to. Our conversation flows so smoothly and it quickly has become second nature to wake up and go to sleep thinking about him. I can’t say I’ve ever felt like this with anyone else in such a short period of time too. Mr. New York is what I like to call perfectly imperfect. I’m not delusional and I realize he, like everyone else, has flaws but I choose to embrace them wholly.

By the third day, a Skype “date” session had become inevitable. I remember being nervous but he quickly settled my nerves and we talked for 2 hours before I forced myself to go to the gym. Mr. New York over Skype was what I pictured -dimply smile and all- and I felt extremely comfortable. Upon my return, we decided to Skype for the second time that day and I was relieved to see that he did not cower in fear of my post-gym look: sweaty, hair up, and no makeup. From there, we discussed the topic of visiting each other, and we resolved that it would make most sense for me to come to him in New York due to work schedules.

The next day, after a lot of back and forth deliberation and a healthy dose of persuasion from Mr. New York, I bought my round trip plane ticket (crazy, I know). Doing something so impromptu is very unlike me. For anyone that knows me, I like structure, plans, and thinking things through. But, it feels right and I’m at the prime moment in my life where I can afford to take chances like this.

Today marks 3 weeks since we started talking. Since then, we’ve been messaging 24/7 and Skyping every day, counting down the days till our eventual meet up. With every moment that passes, there is an electric combination of excitement and anxiousness. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and possibilities but this is a chance that I must take or else I know I’ll regret it. My bag is packed and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I leave tomorrow.

How far would you go for the possibility of love?

Well, seems like I’m about to find out. Peace out 6ix, hello New York City.