Welcome back to our Anonymous Sex Diaries series where queer and trans people from around the world let us into a seven day snippet of their sex, love and dating lives.
This week, we’re following a 29-year-old queer woman in Amsterdam as she embarks on a week of putting herself out there after a dating hiatus.
Monday: Introspection and Reflection
In my early 20s, I entered the world of dating with confidence and excitement. Walking up to someone I found attractive seemed second nature, I was a regular on Hinge, and I always had somewhat of an answer to the dreaded; ‘so, are you seeing anyone’ question. However, after a string of rejections and too many dents to my ego, I am now 29 without ever having fallen in love or being in a relationship. Despite truly wanting these things, my knocked confidence has meant that I have steered clear of dating, placed myself into everyone’s ‘friendzone’, and remained largely dateless and sexless for the past three years.
What was supposed to be a tiny dating break, has led to a very long hiatus and my younger self would be confused to see the so-called best years of my life have been spent in an extended dry spell.
It’s time to intentionally reclaim my former sexual self. With the help of Hinge, friends and multiple club nights during the Amsterdam Dance Event, I’m forcing myself out there to prove that flirting is like riding a bike. A couple right swipes and a few forced interactions with strangers on nights out will be enough to remind myself that I am worthy of romance, sex and dating.
Tuesday: Warming up with Hinge
I download Hinge onto my phone and start off excited. Surely as a bisexual woman in a liberal and progressive city, I should have the whole of Amsterdam at my fingertips? I swipe for five minutes and immediately feel drained.
For context, dating as a woman of colour in this city has been difficult. I’m not tall, pale or blonde and it’s sad to say that after five years in this city, I’m very aware that this hinders my online dating profile. Despite successfully using apps in London, my profile falls flat on its face in The Netherlands and from conversations with BIPOC friends, I can’t help but think this city has an underlying issue with me.
But I keep swiping. If there’s one thing I know about apps is that you have to put the time in. I find myself chatting to a lovely Dutch Tunisian guy. We bond over growing up in predominantly white spaces, attending the recent demonstration for Palestine and cringe dating profiles. I’ve asked if he’s free tonight and suddenly the chat goes silent. A quick reminder of the flippant and disposable nature of online dating. It’s 5.15PM and I’m still not sure if I’ll be seeing him tonight. I’ve not missed this feeling and quickly wonder: Is dating really worth it?
Wednesday: Sexyland
So no, the date didn’t happen. But we move on. On Wednesday, I have my first night out of the week at the appropriately named Sexyland. It’s a small club, the music is great and I’m excited. The only slight issue is that the thought of going up to a stranger and flirting with them seems completely bizarre. I don’t know them. There’s something about it that seems too forced, superficial, icky. When one person asks if I have a cigarette and tries to make an overly flirty conversation, I cringe and leave them in the smoking area without me.
I’ve been exploring the term “demisexual” recently, where you can only be sexually attracted to someone once you have an emotional connection to them. At Sexyland, it’s at the forefront of my brain. Despite knowing my plans for the week, the idea of talking to strangers with a flirty intent makes my skin crawl. Why would I flirt with someone I don’t know anything about?
On a more positive note, I recognise someone on the dancefloor who hosts Black and Brown queer nights at my favourite bar. They’re holding another one next week and she insists I come along. It’s a promise I make to both of us.
Thursday: Oldest Person in the Club
It’s another day and another event at the converted church, Paradiso with DJs playing everything from Arabic edits to Afro House and baile funk. This time, I’ve accidentally attended what seems to be an exclusively Gen Z night and I am about ten years older than everyone there. I feel old, unsexy and largely invisible to the 20 year olds wearing sunglasses in the club. Although the plans to put myself out there might be falling flat on its face, I force myself to remember the takeaway lesson from this week so far; although marching up to strangers and introducing myself at events used to be a favourite pastime, it’s definitely not how I operate now and that’s okay.
Friday: Back to the Apps
Knowing what I’ve learned, I head back to Hinge to put all pride aside and double-message the Dutch-Tunisian man I had previously been speaking to. He replies! We pencil in Saturday evening for dinner at his. I scroll back through our conversations and find myself thinking the same dangerous thoughts I always have before a date: Could they be the one? Is this my last first date? Is this the person I’ll spend summers travelling with and buy a house with? I know I should end this thought spiral but it’s too late and I find myself ready for this potential future.
Saturday: First Date!
This is my first Hinge date in a long time. If it goes well, it will be the first time I’ve left a date feeling optimistic in almost three years. Dinner at someone’s flat you’ve never met before is intense and wouldn’t be my first option – but I get the impression that if I send a counter option, he’ll bail and leave me dateless.
It’s pouring with rain and after the ten minute cycle to his, I’m drenched. I ring the bell and wait nervously. On my previous unsuccessful first dates, I generally know after the greeting whether I fancy them or it’s a complete waste of time.
The door opens, he says hi and I immediately know I don’t feel a spark. Even in the moment, I’m aware of how quick I can be to judge a situation, so follow him up the stairs and enforce a more positive mindset. After three hours, several glasses of wine and some (admittedly, delicious) pasta, there’s still no spark and I find myself struggling to give the best version of myself. Instead, the conversation seems stilted, we both feel some friction and when I leave he’s glad to see the back of me.
In all honesty, this interaction makes me ready to delete Hinge for another three years. They say you need to kiss a lot of frogs but I really struggle to spend my free time making small talk with strangers. I cycle back through the rain feeling quite hollow and empty – what’s the point? Instead of cycling home, I go straight to meet my friends and go on to have one of my favourite nights out this year at a secret party. I cycle to the opposite end of the city and walk into a busy room that is full of my friends – full of people I love and am excited to be with! The sparkle I lost on the date is instantly back and I feel energised. Knowing I’ve already put myself out there once today, I put zero pressure on myself to lock eyes with a stranger across the dancefloor and instead, just surround myself with friends and we dance until the wee early hours. This time, my cycle home isn’t me feeling sad and lonely. After a night with my closest friends my heart feels so full and I keep thinking about how lucky I am to have them. Do I need to put so much pressure on romantic relationships when I am surrounded by such strong friendships?
Sunday: The Final Flirtation
I wake up on Sunday at 3PM, exhausted. I still have one more night out, which I’m tempted to bail on but after a big dinner with friends I feel ready to go back to it. Around the table, I tell them about my week and discuss how we live in a society favouring romantic relationships with the world overlooking the significance of platonic friendships. I’ve lived my whole life surrounded by friendships that share experiences, laughter, and joy. Friendships have been vital to my emotional well-being and offer companionship and support that no amount of dating can replicate.
On this note, I attend my final club night of the week for a night of South Asian House music. Everyone in the room is Brown and singing along to edits of Bollywood songs we grew up listening to and I couldn’t be more in my element. I’m feeling much more confident and don’t feel the pressure of random interactions with strangers to be flirty. This is probably why I end up engaging with more strangers that I have done all week. I approach the DJ after his set and tell him how much I enjoyed the music and we discuss the growing South Asian underground scene. I chat to people in the smoking area and ask them where they’re from and someone asks me for my number. Take away the pressure to flirt and I remember that being friendly comes naturally to me. It’s a refreshing reminder and probably why I ended up having the best time I’ve had all week.
I really enjoyed this, thanks for writing it :) Definitely the most relatable in this series so far, for me!