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We had an unlikely yet instant connection, and spent the entire night talking on the phone. And when I say the entire night, I mean until 6 am! Plus, he lived in my all-time favorite Istanbul neighborhood Kuzguncuk , and we met up there two days later.


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We were occupying an exclusive mental space that zones everything and everyone else out and only leaves two people in the world. We went to his apartment with a bottle of wine. His place was tiny and slightly disorganized, but it was cozy. We sat by the window, opened the bottle, and continued talking about life. I let him do most of the talking because I was slightly paralyzed with the emotions that were running through me and I just loved discovering his expressions, hearing his voice when he moved from one emotion to the next. We were two people opening up to each other — no judgments, no attachments, no baggage.

He said something about me being stressed and began to massage my hands. That was our first physical contact of the night. After my hands, it was my shoulders, then my back. He was very sensual and I was getting super aroused, but he was yet to kiss me. He finished the massage and sat across from me. I think he was just being nice, making sure I had warmed up enough before he made his final move.

Throughout the night, I momentarily freaked out though.

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Because this was not senseless or emotionless. I was there, heart and soul, and I was petrified. I was supposed to guard my heart like it was the most important treasure in the world. Yet I had no control over what it felt, and I kept myself calm as much as I could, allowing myself to enjoy the moment as much as possible because even though no words were spoken on the matter, I knew that the best that would come out of this was a friend with benefits.

It had been a week since my date with the Spanish artist. We had talked once or twice, and had intentions of seeing each other soon, but my assumption that he was going to be a friend with benefits was spot on, which was completely fine with me. And I actually did not want to be in a relationship either. So I did what anyone would do and found someone else to distract me.

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He was one of the first men I matched with on Tinder. He was a super flirtatious, year old creative director, divorced with no kids. And he looked a hell of a lot like my ex, which is why I liked him in the first place. He was not interested in chatting — he just wanted to have sex so he kept on inviting me to his apartment. I kept saying no. What if he was super weird in person? After weeks of him inviting me over and me saying no, I finally told him: He got the message loud and clear.


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I was really nervous because this was going to be the first time in my life that I was knowingly heading towards a casual sex date. Brownie points for me. He looked just like he did in his photos — bald, bearded, fit, and tall with a charming smile. He was wearing a black leather jacket that made him look even more attractive.

We found a bar nearby and had two bottles of beer each. He told me about himself and asked about me, with the occasional naughty joke here and there. And in those 60 minutes or so I decided that he was kind, trustworthy, respectful and certainly not a psycho killer. We walked over to his apartment, which was spacious, well-organized, had large windows overlooking a park, and the entire living room was covered with artwork that he had done.

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We talked a bit more, and after a few sips from the beer, I was pretty tipsy. I told him that I had a little bit to drink before we met because I was nervous. He had a little bit of a problem, the kind only men have, if you know what I mean. I felt like his shortcoming made me feel even more comfortable because he tried harder to make up for it. I had every intention to leave afterwards but he insisted that I stay. We watched a rerun of a Turkish TV show in bed, and went to sleep soon after. It felt like we were a couple, which was kind of nice but totally weird at the same time.

Who watches stuff in bed with someone they are only going to sleep with once? I saw him again within a week or two, and a similar scenario unfolded: I did, we had a few drinks, and we had sex. He had one goal and one goal only, and I felt that I was his means to an end. And that made me feel utterly empty. I went home at 3 in the morning, and shocked myself by bursting into tears as I entered my apartment.

I realized that as much as I harbored no intimate feelings for him, I showed him respect, recognized him as an individual, and did my best to connect. Ending things with the playboy made me question my approach to sex. Did it make me a prude to want to have some sort of connection with the man whom I share all sorts of bodily fluids with? Simplify has been my motto as of late so I took sex in its simplest from as an activity to be shared with another person, much like having dinner or drinking coffee or visiting a gallery.

So why should it be any different when it came to sex?

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Especially when there was the Spanish artist who I saw once a month or even less but who was there in his entirety, interested in getting to know me as a person. And, yes, I did harbor feelings for this man without knowing if he felt anything for me. And that was fine as well because I was still in safe waters.

Happn is one of the best dating apps in Turkey if you live in or near a huge city. Like Tinder, Happn lets you scroll through profiles of all the Turkish singles in your area, but this app takes things one step further. Happn also shows you all the details regarding how many times you and each match have been in the same area, as well as where and when. But if you play your cards right, you could go from messaging to meeting face-to-face, just like that.

This is a little pop up game that shows you 4 profiles. One reason OkCupid is so popular is that all the good stuff, namely checking out your matches and sending unlimited messages, is free.

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