Suzanne Portnoy

I remember the first time I entered Rios, the first time I met a guy from an Internet dating site, the first time I went to a swinger’s club. Each time I was shaking with nerves, could barely hold a drink without spilling it. I was scared shitless.

The other weekend in the pub with my friend we were talking about fear. He does a dangerous job that requires him to constantly be on his guard. It’s the kind of job I’ve only seen people do in the movies but it really exists. It requires cunning, logic, acting skills and knowledge of protocol. It probably requires a lot of other things too but we don’t really talk about our jobs when we meet. We just make goo-goo eyes at each other and chat about the nature of love and relationships and what have you and then he disappears for a year or so and that’s that.

Last week though we touched on his job because, of course, he was visiting me following a job interview so the subject came up. ‘What you do is about overcoming fear,’ I said, trying to sound like I might have some idea of what it must be like to put myself in danger everyday when I don’t.

Sure, I remember being afraid – afraid of being single, of being self-employed, of meeting men I didn’t know. Then I just got past it. I realised that being single was actually a hell of a lot better for me than being with someone I didn’t like. That working on my own was far more satisfying than running a business and that meeting men I didn’t know was no different than going into a pitch for a new client. None of these things were life threatening although I suppose a few times I might have put myself in danger.

‘I can’t get past fear,’ he said. ‘Or I’d be dead. Living with the fear keeps me alert.’

That made me think about how different we were. He liked living with fear but for me it had always felt like a burden, as heavy and uncomfortable and useless as a sweater on a hot summer’s day. As soon as I let go of my fears, everything just seemed to slot into place. I realised following each new experience that it wasn’t any scarier than anything else I had ever done and that I could do it again. Then, after a couple of years I began to relish new experiences and seek them out.

Then I thought about something he had told me a while back about how he was scared that if we ever did get involved, he was afraid that he might get hurt. At the time it sounded like one of those bullshit things that some people say to avoid intimacy but it still struck a chord with me. The thought of being close to him was attractive but far more frightening than fucking strangers in swinging clubs or going to Rios on my own or meeting men off the web. None of those things involved giving too much of myself away. The thought of giving myself to him – really all of myself and not just the part that most people see –now that really would be frightening.

I know lots of women that fall for men at the drop of a hat but I’m not like that. I’ll put myself in sexual situations that would scare the crap out of most people but, as I’ve said before, I have a polyamorous body but a monogamous heart. Emotional vulnerability scares me far more than jumping out of an airplane or bungee jumping (OK, maybe not quite that much but close).

But, for now, I don’t have to get freaked out. This particular guy is back off my radar. He likes to disappear, leaving me wondering when he’ll turn up. Doesn’t text or email or phone. Just disappears. From time to time he’ll pop up on Messenger. ‘Hey,’ he said after he had kissed me goodbye. ‘If I don’t get this job, I’ll be around London in 2012,’ making it sound like next week. This relationship-of-sorts is kind of romantic, kind of frustrating, pretty stupid and just a little frightening too. Despite not spending any time with me, he reads me like a man who has known me for years. From time to time I enjoy pretending I’m Cinderella but this time I’m forgetting about the glass slipper and just going with the flow. I just hope he’s ok.