How does a dating app like Feeld fit into your day-to-day life? We’re taking a closer look at how real people from our community use Feeld over the course of one week—whether that’s back-to-back dates, verbal foreplay, or a reflective time on one’s own.
Welcome to a tension-filled week on Feeld with Bee, 26, a heteroflexible, bratty submissive searching for her kinky soulmate—and edging suspense as she travels between New York City and Cabo.
Monday
Another summer week in the city—but this one’s different. On Thursday, I’m off to Mexico for my best friend’s bachelorette. My suitcase is half-packed, my mind already on the beach, and yet… I find myself on Feeld, swiping.
You might wonder, “Bee, why bother if you’ll be 3,000 miles away?” But that’s exactly the point. The distance gives me what I crave most: the build-up. It starts with the swipes—who will I come across? What’s their story? Will we connect? And, once we do, what will our first encounter be like? The fantasies we spiral into are (almost) better than sex, because there’s room for surprise. The hook up in your head can be exactly what you want it to be, which then becomes the blueprint for the hook up you’re bound to have (it’s giving manifestation). This kind of psychological edging intensifies every Feeld experience. A short trip to Cabo suddenly feels like a playground of possibility.
But, for now, I’m still in NYC. After a long day of work and a frustrating volleyball game, I needed to blow off steam. Onto Feeld I went and in comes J—a dentist/Daddy Dom with a quiet, sensual energy. I tap the heart, hold my breath… connection made. I compliment his 5-star bio and he compliments my smile. The delicious fantasy begins.
Tuesday
On my lunch break, I get a message from an old Feeld flame (read: we met 2 months ago). “Sorry to be so last-minute,” he writes. “But my client just offered me tickets to a show tonight. Join me?”
After work, we head to a heavy metal concert at Madison Square Garden—not my usual scene, but I find ways to make it interesting. In the box seats, he holds my thigh absentmindedly while bobbing his head to the music. I slowly coax his hand up my leg while slyly tugging my dress down to keep it from riding up. He doesn’t look at me, but his sly smile gives him away. A slight wiggle of his fingers sends a zap through my whole body, and soon I have to go refill my near-full drink just to get some reprieve.
This little act alone is enough to leave me yearning for the rest of the concert. Now, the music is background noise and I’m very far away, thinking of our walk home, the rattling of his keys as he unlocks his front door, what he’ll do to me once we get inside… I turn to him with a knowing look and he laughs. Grabbing the back of my neck, he leans in and says, “good things come to those who…” I sigh, but smile. He’s right—the build-up is half the thrill. We leave during the last song to beat the crowds home and, though it’s a school night, he takes his time with me. It was everything I’d fantasized about and more.
Wednesday
I connect with T, a sweet, blue-eyed Irish guy with a thing for edging and size queens (my favorite). He’s changed his Feeld location to New York ahead of his vacation here next month and, luckily for me, I’m his first connection. We immediately hit it off. He’s the ultimate tease, making promises about what’ll happen when we’re together… The intensity of my daydreaming grows almost painful until I’m forced to clock into work. Thoughts of T continue to distract me, though—I reread the same email 3 times before escaping to the bathroom to respond to his latest message: ”When I take you for a pint come August, I want you to wear a short little dress for me...” Now, I’m gone, mentally picturing all the dresses in my closet and what it’ll feel like to have him take one off of me. This is what I love—the sweet edging of encounter. The foreplay that starts long before the bedroom. Have you ever craved someone or something you’ve never tasted? Experiencing them via fantasy, edging yourself to the idea of them is almost like preheating the oven on your libido. It’s that slow burn of imagined touch which turns curiosity into a desire you must satisfy.
Thursday
My procrastination with packing has caught up with me, and most of the day is spent getting my shit together. Who knew a bachelorette would require 3 themed outfits a day? To motivate myself, after 30 minutes of trip planning, I allow myself 10 minutes of Feeld time. Briefly, I banter with a new match, M—a German switch whose eclectic interests include: A24 films, Tuscan wine, concerts in Prospect Park, and sensory play. I open the conversation with “marry me,” to which he replies “yes” (obviously). “Should we head to Vegas?” he says. After some flirty fun, he drops the bomb that he’s headed to Europe to visit family until October. And I’ll just miss him when I get home from Mexico. Now, the real game begins. I hide my excitement and tell him, “Unless you’re prepared to make it up to me, I’d like a divorce.” He promises he’ll make amends and that my patience will be rewarded. This good girl loves a gold star, so I allow it.
I end the night with a phone call with my ongoing Feeld partner. He’s talking me through my orgasm since I probably won’t be able to have any on my trip. Every time I’m close, he makes me stop, catch my breath, and cool down before building it back up again. Each time I restart, everything is more sensitive, and I grow more needy. Ultimately, he doesn’t let me come; he wants me to hold it until we’re together again. As hard as it is to obey, I know it’ll make my first night home that much sweeter if I do. He tells me he’s edging himself until I return, which I love. I want all his pleasure to belong to me. I’m already thinking about coming home to him and I haven’t even checked into my flight yet. It takes everything in me to finish packing and go to bed.
Friday
The airport brings out the absolute worst in people and, in my case, the absolute horniest. When you’re traveling from one corner of the continent to the other, nothing is more diverting than scrolling Feeld while waiting to board. All my matches wish me safe travels (probably because they want me home safe and sound so we can hook up). I thank them nonetheless. I do a double take on a new profile: H, a 6’5’’ jiu-jitsu trainer and shibari master. My heart thumps a bit. It’s not an immediate connection but, after a few more minutes of swiping, I get the notification that he’s liked me back. He tells me he’s on vacation in London and that we’ll be getting home at the same time. I ask him about his shibari skills, which he tells me stemmed from an old sailing hobby turned Covid pastime. I’m intrigued.
Saturday
Even with an 8-hour time difference, H doesn’t skip a beat responding to my messages. It’s 4pm my time, 2am his time, and we hop on a video call. I’m out on the patio catching my breath from my friend’s ambitious bachelorette itinerary. He’s been out with friends, and has a slight buzz. “You look so beautiful and sunkissed,” he says. I laugh and secretly think he looks good as well—hair all tousled, shirt a bit disheveled but not messy. We chat about life, the recharge that vacation yields, and how amazing modern technology is to allow us to connect from different sides of the world. I ask him if he’s had any fun hookups out in the UK, and he says, “nothing quite as exciting as being on the phone with you.” He knows my praise kink so well already. “Am I turning you on?” I ask, innocently, toying with him a bit. He smiles, and says, “you know the answer.” I rub my face shyly, knowing there’s nothing we can do with this energy except let it stir until we’re together. It’s wild how, even over the phone, chemistry can blossom this way. We keep chatting about life—he’s recently begun working on suspension (a type of bondage) and asks if I’d be interested in going to a class with him in Brooklyn. “If you behave yourself,” I tell him.
Sunday
The anticipation of seeing my usual hookup is enough to get me through a hellish travel day. But, I’ll admit, the build up is almost too much. Three days of sun and beach (plus a brief stint with a powerful showerhead) has been nothing short of amazing—still, I’m aching for release. I torture myself in the security line at the airport, fantasizing about what he’s done and will do to me. I recall him saying on the phone before I left, “go have a good time with your girlfriends and we’ll see what kind of mischief you got into when we play interrogation…” Everything inside me feels tight. I sent him photos of my daily outfits—mostly tiny bikinis and tight dresses. I was rewarded with photos of him with even less clothing. He texts me while I wait at the gate: “Wishing you safe flight. I have an intense urge to rub your feet.” Fuck, the thought alone is enough to get me going. But I know him—that message is just a tease; he’s winding me up. What he actually has planned will be far more intense than a foot rub. All I can do from the window seat is close my eyes, control my breath, and spend the next 6 hours spiraling into desperation— it might not be the real thing, but it’s close. And honestly? That’s the best part.
Curious about the connections waiting for you? Discover them on Feeld. To submit your own week using the app, take a look at our pitch guidelines.
