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The Weekend That Was
Arriving in the City of Churches on Friday, I had no idea just how memorable the weekend would become. Now, sitting in the corner booth of my hotel on my last morning, looking over a complimentary breakfast and a rather ordinary cup of cheap coffee, I find myself reflecting on the night before.
I knew that the words I was going to put into this note about my experience would make me smile and perhaps even bite my lip and chuckle. There was something exciting about putting these thoughts into words as I reflected on the time I spent with Katy — a strong, independent and well-travelled woman, someone whose life and experiences stretched far beyond my own. The anticipation had been building for months.
And yet, the moment she walked through the door of the hotel lobby, that nervous feeling began to disappear. Her smile instantly put me at ease.
We stepped into the elevator together, chatting lightly as we made our way to the top floor, where my room was. Somehow, it all felt so real and so perfect, simply because of the connection we share.
You might wonder if she’s a partner or a girlfriend. She’s neither. She is a ‘Provider’, yet somehow she feels like more than that. She is a friend, a teacher and a counsellor all in one.
Katy provides far more than just physical or sexual energy. There is a warmth, understanding and connection that comes with spending time with her. She seems to understand my needs, sometimes without me even having to say them.
And despite this being my third encounter with her, she still manages to make my heart race.
The lead-up to this particular night was different. I’d travelled 450 kilometres to see her, carrying plenty of anticipation but very little idea of what the evening would actually bring. Perhaps that was part of the excitement — stepping outside my usual comfort zone and allowing myself to simply experience the moment.
I felt safe in Katy’s hands.
That cheeky smile is always the first thing I notice. Radiant, familiar and somehow reassuring. The hug and kiss that followed felt completely natural, as though all the waiting and nervousness had disappeared in an instant. She took me by the hand and led the way.
There were moments of laughter, moments of quiet, and moments where I simply found myself taking everything in. More than anything, though, there was a sense of comfort. I could be myself without feeling like I had to put on an act or pretend to be someone I wasn’t.
That’s something I don’t take for granted.
We had dinner afterwards, chitchatting about how the salt-and-pepper squid was a let-down and how the beer-battered fish was the bomb. Then came the sticky date pudding — with both of us agreeing that if they somehow managed to stuff that up, there would be instant disapproval.
Thankfully, the pudding was perfect.
Then the night took its last turn as we headed back to the room.
As I embraced her, knowing it would be a long time before I saw her again, she smiled and kissed me on the lips before simply saying, “I have to go.”
That moment I had been dreading had arrived. Our time was over.
I was left with that familiar feeling of not quite wanting the moment to end.
Not because I expected anything more, but because good company has a funny way of making time disappear.
Walking her down to the lobby, we talked more about the next day and the long journey I had ahead of me. I made sure to tell her that I would send her a message to let her know I had made it home safely.
Her Uber arrived, and Katy was gone.
I found myself thinking about the journey home that would eventually come. Another 450 kilometres. But somehow, it didn’t seem so daunting anymore.
Knowing what an incredible time I’d spent with her, it was all worth it.
Now, sitting here the following morning with a cheap coffee in front of me, I’m realising that perhaps the weekend wasn’t really about the distance travelled at all.
It was about stepping outside my comfort zone.
About meeting someone who makes me feel comfortable enough to be myself.
About the conversations, the laughter and the little moments that probably wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, but somehow mean a lot to me.
And maybe that’s what I’ll remember most.
Not simply the night itself, but the way I felt.
Safe. Comfortable. Appreciated.
And, for a little while, completely present in the moment.
So, as I finish my coffee and prepare to leave the City of Churches, I can’t help but smile.
450 kilometres each way?
Yeah… I’d probably do it all again. And I will.
Arriving in the City of Churches on Friday, I had no idea just how memorable the weekend would become. Now, sitting in the corner booth of my hotel on my last morning, looking over a complimentary breakfast and a rather ordinary cup of cheap coffee, I find myself reflecting on the night before.
I knew that the words I was going to put into this note about my experience would make me smile and perhaps even bite my lip and chuckle. There was something exciting about putting these thoughts into words as I reflected on the time I spent with Katy — a strong, independent and well-travelled woman, someone whose life and experiences stretched far beyond my own. The anticipation had been building for months.
And yet, the moment she walked through the door of the hotel lobby, that nervous feeling began to disappear. Her smile instantly put me at ease.
We stepped into the elevator together, chatting lightly as we made our way to the top floor, where my room was. Somehow, it all felt so real and so perfect, simply because of the connection we share.
You might wonder if she’s a partner or a girlfriend. She’s neither. She is a ‘Provider’, yet somehow she feels like more than that. She is a friend, a teacher and a counsellor all in one.
Katy provides far more than just physical or sexual energy. There is a warmth, understanding and connection that comes with spending time with her. She seems to understand my needs, sometimes without me even having to say them.
And despite this being my third encounter with her, she still manages to make my heart race.
The lead-up to this particular night was different. I’d travelled 450 kilometres to see her, carrying plenty of anticipation but very little idea of what the evening would actually bring. Perhaps that was part of the excitement — stepping outside my usual comfort zone and allowing myself to simply experience the moment.
I felt safe in Katy’s hands.
That cheeky smile is always the first thing I notice. Radiant, familiar and somehow reassuring. The hug and kiss that followed felt completely natural, as though all the waiting and nervousness had disappeared in an instant. She took me by the hand and led the way.
There were moments of laughter, moments of quiet, and moments where I simply found myself taking everything in. More than anything, though, there was a sense of comfort. I could be myself without feeling like I had to put on an act or pretend to be someone I wasn’t.
That’s something I don’t take for granted.
We had dinner afterwards, chitchatting about how the salt-and-pepper squid was a let-down and how the beer-battered fish was the bomb. Then came the sticky date pudding — with both of us agreeing that if they somehow managed to stuff that up, there would be instant disapproval.
Thankfully, the pudding was perfect.
Then the night took its last turn as we headed back to the room.
As I embraced her, knowing it would be a long time before I saw her again, she smiled and kissed me on the lips before simply saying, “I have to go.”
That moment I had been dreading had arrived. Our time was over.
I was left with that familiar feeling of not quite wanting the moment to end.
Not because I expected anything more, but because good company has a funny way of making time disappear.
Walking her down to the lobby, we talked more about the next day and the long journey I had ahead of me. I made sure to tell her that I would send her a message to let her know I had made it home safely.
Her Uber arrived, and Katy was gone.
I found myself thinking about the journey home that would eventually come. Another 450 kilometres. But somehow, it didn’t seem so daunting anymore.
Knowing what an incredible time I’d spent with her, it was all worth it.
Now, sitting here the following morning with a cheap coffee in front of me, I’m realising that perhaps the weekend wasn’t really about the distance travelled at all.
It was about stepping outside my comfort zone.
About meeting someone who makes me feel comfortable enough to be myself.
About the conversations, the laughter and the little moments that probably wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, but somehow mean a lot to me.
And maybe that’s what I’ll remember most.
Not simply the night itself, but the way I felt.
Safe. Comfortable. Appreciated.
And, for a little while, completely present in the moment.
So, as I finish my coffee and prepare to leave the City of Churches, I can’t help but smile.
450 kilometres each way?
Yeah… I’d probably do it all again. And I will.
