The Woman Hooking Up With Her Tour Guide on a Solo Trip

In this week’s story, a woman tries to end a dry spell while traveling abroad: 45, single, New York 

DAY ONE

9 a.m. I’m in Paris at the end of a very nice two weeks in France. I’m a hairdresser with my own business, and I always take August off to recharge. I’ve been focused on rest and relaxation up until this morning, when, over a hotel breakfast buffet, I decide I’m bored and antsy. I’ve been on a dry spell in New York. No action yet in France, so I’m making it my mission to go on a date tonight.

11:50 a.m. From my hotel bed, I go on the apps. I speak French, so it’s easy to flirt. The harder part is finding someone good to go out with. After years of dating purely for fun and sex, I’d like to a relationship. This means dating guys who are closer to my age, emotionally available-ish, and might actually want to fall in love and grow old together. For now, I settle for Pierre. He’s 39, owns a popular restaurant in Paris, and seems eager to take me out.

3 p.m. Run around Paris to buy some lingerie. I’m a lingerie addict, which is funny because I only had sex with one person in the last year! But, in theory, I’m a highly sexual being.

6p.m. Pierre meets me at my hotel. He’s hot and seems fun. I’m excited.

8p.m. We’re at a little bistro doing the wine-and-steak-frites thing. I tell him I’m going to Morocco soon and need to get all my sexual frustration out first. He isn’t sure what I mean, so basically, I tell him in broken French that I want to fuck someone in France before I leave. He’s like, Let’s go.

10p.m. We’re kissing in the street. It’s okay, but he’s all over me, and it’s a little much. When we get to my hotel, I change my mind at the lobby doors. His super-wet kisses give me the ick. I play hard to get and tell him that I’ll see him tomorrow night. He won’t stop slobbering all over me. I finally go to my room, happy that I’m alone!

DAY TWO

10 a.m. I need to spend most of the day packing for Morocco tomorrow.

1 p.m. I have to deal with a few work things on my computer. I just signed a commercial lease for five years – it’s exciting, but it’s also been crazy making this deal happen and preparing for the move. I remind myself that this is my cherished time off and to stop reading emails.

3 p.m. Meanwhile, Pierre, who is 39, is acting like he’s 12 years old. He sends endless selfies, then FaceTimes me. I ignore it.

4 p.m. I come up with an excuse for not meeting up tonight, which Pierre doesn’t fight me on. Instead, he sends 5,000 heart emojis. I honestly didn’t know there were this many versions. There’s the heart in every color, the broken heart, the double heart, the beating heart. Pierre might be a lunatic.

8:30 p.m. Dinner by myself at a restaurant I keep coming back to because the food is so good. I end up sitting next to a British couple in their 60s. We hang out the whole night.

11 p.m. We’re still out drinking and talking about our divorces. I got divorced eight years ago. It was dramatic, but it’s all behind me. They keep saying how impressed they are that I travel alone so much. The wife promises that I’ll find love again. Being with them feels really nice.

1 a.m. Good thing I packed already, because it’s late. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but it buys freedom. This trip is freedom.

DAY THREE

10:45 a.m. The craziest thing happens as I go on Instagram to post myself taking off for Morocco. An old fling, Luca, DMs me that he’s in Marrakech! I can’t believe it. Luca and I had a whirlwind romance a few years ago when I was on another solo trip in Italy. Absolutely mind-blowing sex. I thought I’d never see him again.

11 a.m. My plane is taking off, but I tell Luca that I’ll find him when I land somehow.

4 p.m. I’ve never been to Morocco before, so it takes a beat to adjust. The first thing I do is visit a hammam for a scrub.

6 p.m. I’m pretty beat, but I DM Luca from my room. He says he’s on a 10-day camping trip with friends, going up and down the coast of Morocco.  He’s in an Airbnb. Luca is 20-something and has no money, but looks like an Italian Adam Brody. In this case, everybody wants this.

9 p.m. The logistics don’t work out tonight, so we make a plan to sync up tomorrow. I truly can’t believe I’m going to see him again, and he seems just as excited and amazed.

DAY FOUR

9 a.m. Breakfast at my riad. Morocco feels thrilling, but it’s hard to get my bearings.

11 a.m. A tour guide picks me up to take me around Marrakesh. He comes highly recommended, and I can see why. For one, he’s very cute. His English is great, he understands how to deal with Americans, and he’s cool. I have a crush on him right away, but I focus on learning about the city.

2 p.m. Back in the car, I tell the tour guide about Luca and our tryst in Italy. The guide seems amused and maybe even turned on. I tell myself to table our little vibe for now.

7 p.m. I’m showered, dressed, and waiting to hear from Luca. The cell service around here isn’t good, and he warned me it could take a few hours to find service and solidify our plan. I can’t believe I’ll have the chance to have sex with him tonight. What a surreal way to break my dry spell.

9 p.m. Finally, a text: “Should we meet now?” I proceed to take a taxi with a driver who doesn’t speak a word of English, and my French is failing me. My phone has no service. I barely understand where I’m meeting Luca — all I have is a screenshot of where he is. I keep showing it to the driver. I feel fucked.

10 p.m. Miraculously, I find him waiting outside his Airbnb.  We go for a walk. He tells me that my skin looks really good in the moonlight. It’s from the hammam. I tell him I can’t believe lightning is going to strike twice. He doesn’t know what that means, and I can’t translate it. All to say: Our chemistry is still there.

11 p.m. We’re on a little park bench. Luca is touching my leg, and I’m on fire. I keep trying to put out the heat because we’re in Morocco and have to be respectful, but I’m dying for this man. The only thing we can do besides discreetly touch each other is take selfies. Finally, he kisses me. I’m nervous we’re going to get in trouble because kissing in public is frowned upon, but suddenly, we’re going at it.

11:30 p.m. When Luca does stop kissing me, he tells me he has a girlfriend, but “it doesn’t matter.” It really doesn’t. I suggest we go back to my hotel.

12 p.m. The security guard says Luca can’t come inside. I beg the guard to let me and Luca sit in the common area and promise Luca won’t come upstairs. Finally, the guard says yes to the common area. He proceeds to turn all the lights on.

1 a.m. It’s just too much with the guard policing us. We decide the night is done and accept our encounter for what it was: a romantic, unexpected new memory. He’s leaving tomorrow.

2 a.m. I go to sleep wondering if and how the universe will bring us back together again.

DAY FIVE

9 a.m. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt about putting the security guard in that position last night. Also, I’m 45, not a troublemaking teenager at my parents’ house.

11 a.m. As I wait for the tour guide to get me for our walking tour, the security guard lectures me about the religious culture here. I really understand and tell him over and over that I’m sorry, and we end up looking at pictures of his kids. It’s all good.

2 p.m. My tour guide and I are definitely flirting. We make plans for dinner because he says he has so much more to “teach” me. After our walking tour, we part ways for a few hours.

7 p.m. He picks me up around the corner from my hotel in order to be discreet.

8 p.m. The restaurant is fun. There’s dinner and music. He knows what to order. We’re having a great time. Because he’s also my guide, when the check comes, I pay. Is this part of the extended tour, or are we on a date? So I take a chance and I give him a kiss on the cheek, thinking this is as far as I can take it in public. I ask him if he’s ever had sex. He spits his drink out. He’s like, “Yes, and I’ve dated American girls.” We quickly get the check.

10 p.m. He grabs my face in the car and starts kissing me. It’s a really good kiss. He suggests going back to his apartment. When we get there, he immediately gets in the shower. When he comes out, we start fooling around. He’s humungous. We’re getting down and dirty, but I think sex is too much. Not because of his size, but because he’s my tour guide and the power dynamic is odd, and I’m out of my element.  I tell him I’ve decided against it, and he’s like, “You’re probably right.”

3 a.m. I have a hot-air-balloon tour in the morning with his colleague. Pickup is in three hours. He takes another shower — I’m not sure what’s up with the showers — and drops me around the corner from my riad.

DAY SIX

7 a.m. I’m in a hot air balloon.

10 a.m. I’m traveling to another part of Morocco today. A driver is taking me on the eight-hour trip.

2 p.m. I think about Luca for most of the ride while making small talk with the driver who, by the end of the trip, is in love with me. He basically says so.

6 pm. When I check into the new hotel, the general manager is super-hot and flirting heavily. He knows the tour guide from last night! I can’t help but think that the tour guide told the GM that I’m “down to fuck,” or whatever. I’m a little anxious about what everyone is saying about me.

9 p.m. Spend the night settling in. Now everyone is following me on Instagram: The tour guide. The driver. The GM. Pierre! All this attention, and yet, still no sex.

DAY SEVEN

9 a.m. My driver, who I’ve hired again to take me around today, tells me he overheard the GM saying that I’m super-sexy. He also tells me that the GM is bad news. I think he might be cock-blocking me.

11 a.m. I disengage from all of it and call my sister in the States. We talk for an hour or even more just so I don’t have to chitchat with the driver.

5 p.m. The driver and I sit for a bite to eat. I’m stuck with him, so I might as well embrace it.

9 p.m. Back at the hotel after a long day. Morocco is absolutely beautiful and enchanting, but I want to hide from everyone.

10 p.m. I miss Luca. I wonder if we would fall in love if we lived in the same place. I still can’t believe we found each other here, where I couldn’t even kiss him on the street. The world works in mysterious ways.