Having sex with a random stranger in a hotel room is THE role play fantasy for many couples. Meeting at the bar over a drink or two and then heading upstairs for a nightcap might be a cliché, but our author Nadia Bokody tried it out for herself. Here’s what she discovered…
It’s 3pm on a Friday, and I’ve just snuck out of work early to go meet a stranger in a hotel room for sex. This is not something I usually do. Hell, this is not something I ever do. But then again, nothing in my life is status quo at the moment.
Perhaps I should back-track a bit… Like a lot of young women, I fell madly in love with a boy in my early twenties and decided to get married. But a couple of years later, when the reality of it all sunk in, I felt stuck. I didn’t want to be someone’s wife. I didn’t even know myself yet, much less was I emotionally equipped to share the next 50-plus years with another person. But the marital vows had already been exchanged, and the wishing well cash had already been spent. So I persisted on. I tried to make the role fit, even when it felt like an itchy sweater on a hot day. I tried to be who I felt I needed to be to make the relationship work, and in doing so, ran farther and farther away from myself.
If I wasn’t a wife, who was I?
The end of my marriage
Until one day, everything crumbled. And I found myself crying over a glass of chardonnay, seated across the table from my mother at a restaurant, confessing I was getting a divorce. The weight of my relationship failure collapsed onto me like a heavy dumbbell on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. If I wasn’t a wife, who was I?
Searching for a new identity
In search of a new identity, I went on a series of unimpressive online dates. They couldn’t fill the gaping hole of emptiness swirling inside me. Nothing could. So it was, I fell apart at my desk one Friday afternoon at work, sobbing quietly into my keyboard.
A co-worker girlfriend in the cubicle opposite me popped her head around to see what was wrong.
“I feel lost…” I confessed. “And alone…” I continued, wiping the strewn mascara from under my eyes.
“When’s the last time you had sex?” she asked, without missing a beat.
“Not for months. I’m so sexually frustrated!” I found myself suddenly exclaiming.
“Then why don’t you do something about it?” She proposed, as though it was as easy as taking a quick walk around the block.
“You’ve been on a bunch of online dates. Just text one of those guys and ask them to meet you at the hotel we have booked tonight for our girls’ night in the city,” she finished.
“Really? How would I even go about doing that?” I inquired back.
“Check-in is open now. Tell him you’ll meet him there in half an hour. I’ll cover for you at work. The girls and I will meet you there in a couple of hours when work finishes,” she offered, as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
There was a certain freedom to screwing a guy I knew I’d never see again.
A fantasy came true
And so it was, I found myself meeting a man I’d only been on a single date with, in a hotel room, for no-strings-attached sex. The sex itself was unremarkable, so I’ll spare you the details. But what was extraordinary, was the way I cried when it ended. It was a primal, happy kind of cry. The tears were ones of relief. Of finally having connected with desires that had been locked deep inside me for so long.
There was a certain freedom to screwing a guy I knew I’d never see again. Unlike sex with my husband, I didn’t feel pressured to fit a role. I didn’t care at all what this person thought of me. And so I connected with my authentic sexual self in that hotel room, and it lit something within me.
Today I’m more connected with my authentic self than I’ve ever been before. I ask for what I want in bed, and I’m in arguably the healthiest and most sexually fulfilling relationship of my life. I haven’t seen the man from the hotel room again since that day. I don’t even remember his name. But I’ll always be grateful for our rendezvous, and the gift it gave me.