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His name was Will*, and he was a theatre actor with a side hustle as a carpenter, and a slight Texan drawl. We immediately bonded over our love of cheap beer, theatre, and Johnny Cash.For the next five hours, the booze flowed; we moved to another bar, split a plate of nachos, and then drunkenly fell into a cab together back to my apartment.After trying our hand at a “real” date, Will and I realised our sizzle was at its highest within the four walls of my apartment.
I marched back into the bar, sat down next to writer guy, and ordered myself a drink.Now I know I can reach out to him when I need something, be it help spackling a hole in the wall or an orgasm.Will showed me who he was from the beginning — a funny guy I felt comfortable with who made delicious chicken and dumplings. I liked Will, but there was a lot about him that I didn’t want in a relationship.We continued to see one another, but we were explicit about keeping things casual.
By projecting my own desires onto our situation rather than hearing and respecting what they had told me at the start, I was setting myself up for heartbreak. The problem wasn’t casual sex, or the fact that it’s what they wanted.