A Week on Feeld with Lola*, an artist exploring self-expression after taking Feeld’s Reflections tool

Welcome to a week on Feeld with Lola*, 23, a bisexual woman living in Brooklyn. Join our ambassador as she explores self-expression, sensual communication, and a nude photoshoot, and uncovers more about her desires after taking Reflections—a new self-discovery tool from Feeld. 

Monday

After a restful Sunday, I wake up thinking about the week ahead, and about Silas. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now, after meeting through Feeld.

We were both very direct from the first messages. His opening line was, "The world is ending, let's fuck." I had just gotten out of a relationship, so this was exactly what I was looking for. We made plans to meet the following week.

After drinks, we went back to his apartment and connected immediately. We kissed, explored each other, and then he asked things like, "Tell me, what are your limits? Where's a good place to start?" He was communicative and sensual in equal measure.

He's a bit older than I am, tall, playful, and very smart. Generous in the ways that matter.

I’ve always struggled with verbal communication, feeling that it’s difficult for me to express myself and everything I’m thinking about in ways that other people can fully understand. With a pen, a keyboard, or my body, I feel more fluent. Feeld’s Reflections tool helped me name this pattern: I often feel misunderstood in relationships because our world privileges verbal communication over body language and nonverbal cues. By the time physical intimacy becomes possible, I’ve spent weeks or months feeling disconnected, trying to bridge the gap when words don’t come as easily to me. 

With Silas, it was different; physical communication started immediately. Our body language was open and expressive. There was no awkward dance of trying to wait for the “right” time for either of us to make a move. Sex was a conversation—one where I could speak fluently. There was immediately a passion that was mutual, present, and full of understanding. I felt so much closer to him after one evening than I have with partners [who] I had spent weeks with. This, in turn, strengthened our verbal communication.

I text him. “Tomorrow night?” I ask.

He responds minutes later, saying “Definitely. :) Looking forward to seeing you.”

Tuesday 

After a day of productive but mentally exhausting meetings, I'm ready to decompress in Silas’s arms. When I arrive, he opens the door wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. "Sorry," he says. "Just got out of the shower."

"I don't mind at all," I say, smiling.

We immediately become tangled together. I melt into him; the boundaries between us blur. When we start having sex, every tense muscle releases. My body loosens in a way that would take hours to achieve otherwise—through yoga, a massage, or simply time. Being intimate with Silas puts me into a flow state where I'm utterly myself, able to express fully, physically, emotionally, and, verbally. This is the version of me that feels most true.

It hasn't always been this way. I have a tendency to fall into dynamics that feel exciting in the moment but run on intermittent reinforcement—relationships where I bend toward what the other person seems to want, losing the thread of my own desires in the process. I see the good in people easily, sometimes too easily, and I've found myself in situations where my pleasure was quietly deprioritized. The longer that went on, the harder it became to speak up at all.

What's shifted, partly, is having my desires and limits reflected back at me, named, taken seriously and treated as real; both by Silas and from taking Reflections. I already knew what I wanted, somewhere inside. But being seen in these two ways made my desires feel like things I could begin to really claim. Having the tool tell me that “You may be quick to adjust or withhold preferences based on how you think they’ll be received. But your desires are real and they matter,” was so important. It makes me want to make actionable changes.

After sex, I fall asleep in his arms, completely at peace.

Wednesday 

I wake up in Silas’s bed naked except for one sock, my head dangling off the edge of the mattress. I laugh. Somehow this always happens. Silas turns to me, smiling, and reaches out to adjust the pillow beneath my head, his hand lingering on my back. “Before you leave,” he says, “I have an idea.”

My eyes light up. This is what I really like about him. He’s unpredictable in a way that feels safe. Not the kind of unpredictability that makes me anxious about his moods or reactions, but a kind that feels exciting and surprising. 

“Tell me,” I say.

We both love photography, especially portraiture—the quiet intensity of it, the way a body can hold a story. He studies my face for a moment, almost professionally.

“You’d be a perfect subject,” he says. “What if we experimented a little? Maybe a nude shoot.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m already smiling. A spark moves through me, half amusement and half anticipation.

“I would love that.”

I’ve wanted to try something like this for a while. To see myself through someone else’s lens. To feel both exposed and in control at the same time. My most natural state has always been my naked self. The idea feels sexy and aligned. 

As an artist, I enjoy making work that stretches me just enough to feel awake. Not overwhelmed, but aware and a little charged. Performance art usually gives me that edge, but this idea feels softer and more intimate. 

“As tempting as this is,” I say, sitting up and reaching for my clothes, “I have to get to work.”

He grins. “Friday?”

“Friday,” I confirm.

Thursday 

I wake up bursting with anticipation: it’s the night of the Feeld social at Public Records that I’ve been thinking about all week. 

I’ve been to a few of these events before, and each one feels more expansive than the last. What strikes me the most is the absence, whether performed or not, of usual social anxiety. At many parties and bars, people have become socialized to fear rejection the way they fear death. Like it’s the worst possible thing that could happen to you. Because of this, there’s a heightened stigma around approaching people when out. Alternatively, at Feeld socials, there’s generally a shared comfort and mutual respect. Approaching someone new feels natural—it’s why everybody is there. Regardless of sexual identity or preference, people are chatty, present, and respectful. 

Going into tonight's event feels different because of what I’d recently learned about myself from Feeld’s Reflections tool. I’ve always thought of myself as monogamous; I develop crushes very quickly and easily, but thought of myself as someone who would never actually act on them while dating someone else. I’d never considered that this pattern might mean something else, and that maybe I was craving something different.

Lately, my fantasies have widened. I catch myself imagining being with multiple people at once—both sexually and emotionally. I joke with friends about having several spouses, each offering something different: long thoughtful conversations, passionate sex, yummy cooking, creative partnerships. It’s silly to say out loud, but underneath the joke is something very real. I tend to see the best in most people, and recently I find myself wanting to experience more than one person at once. 

I walk up the stairs with my roommate, and immediately spot Loreli—a friend of a friend that I’ve always found gorgeous. We’d only ever hung out in group settings. We both gasp at the same time and start laughing, pulling each other into a hug. 

“What are YOU doing here?” I ask. She tells me she’s here with her partner of two and a half years. They’re exploring, both together and separately. “Dylan,” she says, gesturing, “this is Lola.” 

I look over. Cute, I think. I smile and give him a hug. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “Lucky me, meeting a beautiful girl who’s also a Feeld ambassador,” he says playfully. “Sell this party to me. Why should I stay?” 

I grin. “Because I’m here! And now talking to a beautiful man.” 

He runs with it, and Dylan and I end up talking for the next few hours—about our lives, our desires, and our fantasies. I’m completely absorbed. At one point in the conversation, I get slightly embarrassed telling him about something I enjoy, and he reaches out to touch my shoulder, his fingers sliding down my back.

Ahh. That feels good. 

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” he says while smiling at me. 

I notice that I keep glancing between Dylan and Loreli who’s standing across the room. She’s deep in conversation with my roommate. Not once do they look at each other with jealousy or tension. There seems to be no possessiveness. 

Wow. I reflect. This feels like something I could actually do. 

The next three hours fly by. When the lights come on, I catch my roommate's eye—time to go. I give Dylan a long goodbye hug and we exchange contact information.

He runs his fingers through my hair, tucking a section behind my ear, lightly stroking the top of it. “It was so beautiful to meet you tonight.” He says. “I hope to see you again soon.”

Being so attracted to Dylan, and so unexpectedly moved by how seamless the dynamic between him and Loreli felt, was transformative. Watching them engage with my roommate and me so naturally helped confirm the desires that had been circling in my mind. I had a real-world reference point. This idea had once felt abstract, maybe even indulgent and silly. Now, it felt more approachable. It helped show me that the non-monogamous version of myself that I had been imagining might not just be a fantasy.  

Friday 

My morning and afternoon unfold slowly—a late wake up, tea at the café on my block, a few hours of remote work, and then a walk with my friend. 

I head back home around 6 pm. That evening, I’m sitting naked on my floor painting when I text Silas to come over for our shoot. I’ve been obsessed with Marlene Dumas lately—a South African artist who makes these wonderfully strange, intense, and expressive paintings. I’ve been staring at a print of one of my favorite paintings of hers entitled For Whom The Bell Tolls. 

The lights in my room are off except for one floor lamp casting soft shadows across my canvas and skin. I like working this way. I’m in my most natural state. Silas arrives 30 minutes later with his camera. 

When he sees me, Silas is amused. “Is this how you welcome all of your studio visit guests?” He laughs. I chuckle and tell him, “I wish!”

“I love how seriously you’re painting and how seriously beautiful you are without any clothes on.” 

I look up and smile at him. Silas begins to photograph. He walks behind me, capturing the silhouette of my back. Then he’s beside me, photographing my elongated arm with the paintbrush as I reach toward the canvas. He climbs onto a chair behind my desk to shoot from above, capturing my chest and pensive expression as I’m figuring out my next brushstroke. 

Afterward, he shows me the photos; they’re amazingly unposed, capturing a true candidness and [the] essence of me. 

Reflections helped me to discover that I often struggle to feel completely understood in relationships. I think it’s because moments like this one—a partner watching me paint naked—would usually only happen after months together, if at all. Just like our physical chemistry, I appreciate that Silas and I connected so quickly. I was able to skip past all of the formalities of early dating, and just be. 

I felt vulnerable, and completely comfortable. Safe and respected. He stayed the night.

Saturday 

Silas and I wake up slowly, bodies wrapped around each other. He climbs on top of me, gently brushing my bangs from my eyes. He adjusts the pillow beneath me to make sure I’m comfortable, then takes my hands and places them behind my head. We look at each other and smile. He kisses me, with one of his hands lightly pressing my cheek to the side so he can trail kisses down my neck. With his other hand gripping my hands behind my head, he begins to kiss down my shoulders, chest… eventually reaching my hipbones. 

When I shift to straddle him, his hands move to hold my legs. He lifts his head, sitting up, and pulls down his boxers. Slowly, we begin to fuck.

Afterward, he rolls onto his back and I climb on top of him squeezing him in a tight hug. We eat breakfast together before he heads home. 

Later, Dylan texts me inviting me to a party at his place. I want to go, but my friend has a gallery opening. I tell him I’d love to see him next week instead. 

Around 7 pm, I head to the Lower East Side. Ironically, my friend is an immersive artist and this opening is focused on the power of human touch. It’s as much participatory performance as a traditional opening. Perfect timing, I think. I’m home by 9, ready for an early night. 

Sunday 

I spend the whole day at a café finishing a proposal for an arts event I’m organizing in a few months. The work feels good and grounding after such an expansive week.

That evening, I head to a DIY venue in Bushwick to see a totally strange but awesome music show. As I'm jumping along to the music, my mind wanders. I think about Silas—the way our bodies fit together so perfectly, the ease of being held by someone who makes me feel entirely like myself. I think about Dylan and Loreli, and how watching them together made something quietly click into place. The week has left me with more than memories.

Somewhere between the experiences with Silas and at the Feeld social, and my conversations with myself using Reflections , things have started to crystallize. I recognize the way I tend to shrink my own desires when I'm uncertain, and I see that I don't have to. I’m beginning to understand that non-monogamy might not just be a curiosity, but a genuine horizon worth moving toward.

The music is loud and weird and fun. I let it carry me. I close my eyes and smile to myself, excited for what’s to come. 

To submit your own week using the app, take a look at our pitch guidelines. Curious about uncovering more of your own desires? You can explore with Reflections—a free self-discovery tool. Go beyond your surface with Feeld. 

*Name has been changed.