In the unsettling quiet of late April 2020, as the world retreated indoors, a Tinder feature called Passport became temporarily free. This act of pandemic generosity allowed users to transcend geographical boundaries, a digital escape hatch that one writer used not just for connection, but for a profound journey of self-discovery.
A Pandemic Pivot to Paris
The author, who had relocated to Indiana to be nearer to an elderly mother, found the local dating scene—populated by profiles featuring "giant freshly caught fish" and "craft beer"—uninspiring, especially for a self-described hypochondriac unwilling to risk a new virus for small talk. With a high tolerance for sexual droughts, the writer turned attention to a personal goal: practicing French. Setting her Tinder Passport location to Paris, she matched with Étienne, a 33-year-old who was ten years her junior.
His profile was direct, stating he was a "fetishist" and featuring a photo of a woman's calves and feet. The author, who confessed a soft spot for foot fetishes, was intrigued. Their initial exchange was brief; he complimented her feet and legs, she replied with a simple "merci." After moving their conversation to WhatsApp, the dynamic quickly escalated into explicit territory.
Language as a Gateway to Liberation
Étienne asked to be dominated. The author, wielding an imaginary whip, commanded him in French to get on all fours ("Mets-toi à quatre pattes!"). This digital dance of domination and submission became a powerful catalyst. When Étienne later requested she wear her dildo, it unlocked a part of her identity long kept hidden.
"I’d never shared my whole self with a partner," the writer reveals, linking her reluctance to embrace her own masculinity to childhood trauma. The dildos had remained mostly in a drawer, symbols of a facet of herself she felt compelled to hide. But with Étienne's request, "I shed years of shame."
This liberation fueled an intense dedication to learning French. The author explains, "I’ve never studied anything like I studied French during the period of my affair with Étienne." She pored over dictionaries, used Duolingo and Rosetta Stone, and even ventured onto a French dominatrix's website to learn slang. Note cards filled with vocabulary from their encounters piled up, a testament to how powerful a motivator their connection had become.
Embracing a Nonbinary Self
The virtual, Francophone nature of their affair created a unique space for exploration. The physical distance and linguistic barrier somehow made it safer to be vulnerable. The author, who had long identified as queer and felt like a "boy/girl," began to understand the need to let this nonbinary identity be more fully present.
Their roles were fluid; both were "switches," taking turns being "la salope" (the slut). Sometimes she commanded him to wear her fishnet stockings or panties. Other times, he took charge. This exchange of power, articulated in a foreign language, was transformative.
"Through topping Étienne, I released much of the fear and shame I’d been carrying around my own masculinity and sexuality," she writes. The ecstasy of their connection pushed her through long-held fears. For the first time with a cis man, she felt safe, not because of trust, but because of his vulnerability.
The affair eventually concluded when Étienne met someone else. The author, who was also dating others, mourned the loss but was filled with gratitude. The relationship had served its purpose. "With Étienne, I embraced a side of myself that I had never fully expressed," she concludes. Though their digital trysts were over, she was left feeling more whole, eagerly anticipating the future exploration of her nonbinary identity.
