I had almost convinced myself that dating apps were a waste of time until I met Kunle. From our first chat, I felt something shift. He was easy to talk to, he was funny, thoughtful, and not in a hurry to impress me with empty lines. Days turned into weeks of endless conversations, voice notes, and late-night calls. It felt like he was slowly becoming part of my daily life without even trying.

When we finally agreed to meet, I didn’t hesitate. My heart said yes before my brain could even list a hundred reasons why it was a bad idea. I wore a simple black dress, nothing too loud but enough to show effort. The moment I walked into the restaurant and saw him rise to his feet, tall with a warm smile, I knew the pictures hadn’t done him justice.

Dinner was effortless. We laughed, teased, and spoke like we had known each other for years. However, the real moment occurred later, in his car, as he drove me home. Lagos traffic lights painted the night in soft glows, and the music played low, almost fading beneath the weight of silence.

By the time we got to my street, I didn’t want the night to end. When he leaned a little closer, his scent filling the space between us, my body wanted him. I wanted him badly. But I held myself back. Instead, I smiled, thanked him for the evening, and stepped out of the car. Walking into my apartment. I felt a mix of relief and regret.

The days after that were filled with even more calls, longer chats, and deeper confessions. We spoke about our dreams, our fears, and even silly childhood memories. The more we talked, the more I realised it wasn’t just attraction; I was genuinely drawn to his mind, to the calm way he handled conversations.

So when he asked me to come over to his place one Saturday, I didn’t hesitate. I told myself I was just going to hang out, maybe watch a movie, eat, and laugh like always. But deep down, I knew the walls I built on our first date might not hold up this time.

His apartment was warm, smelling faintly of vanilla and fresh laundry. He had cooked jollof rice and chicken, and we ate while teasing each other about who danced worse to Burna Boy. Later, we settled on the couch, a movie playing but barely watched. My head found his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around me naturally, like it belonged there.

When I looked up at him, our eyes locked, and the air grew heavier. He leaned in, and I met him halfway. Our lips met, soft at first, then hungrier, deeper. My mind screamed at me to slow down, but my body betrayed me. Every nerve lit up, every touch pulling me closer to him.

One thing led to another, and suddenly, it felt like I was caught in a storm I didn’t want to escape. His hands traced fire along my skin, his breath warm against my neck. I let go of all the fears I had carried, letting myself drown in the moment. It was intense, almost overwhelming, yet so right.

When it was over, I lay there, catching my breath, listening to the rhythm of my heart slowly return to normal. He looked at me with a smile, one that wasn’t rushed or demanding, but gentle, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

In that quiet moment, I realised something: it wasn’t just about the physical part. It was about connection. It was about finally finding someone who made me feel seen, wanted, and alive.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring for Kunle and me. But that night, I knew one thing: this was only the beginning.

+ posts