Something, something is strangely addictive about anticipation.

Not the kind that comes with waiting for a parcel or counting down to a holiday.

I mean the kind that settles somewhere underneath your skin.

The kind that makes an ordinary message feel like an invitation.

The kind that makes you smile at your phone before you’ve even opened it because you already know who it is.

That is where we are with her.

We haven’t met.

Not yet.

We’ve only talked.

Somehow, that makes the whole thing even more exciting.

Because right now, she’s still somewhere between fantasy and reality: a woman we’ve been getting to know through conversations, teasing messages, little glimpses into each other’s personalities and the occasional comment that makes me look across at my husband with that expression.

The expression that says:

You read that too, right?

He always knows.

He’ll smile.

I’ll shake my head.

And we’ll both pretend we’re not already imagining what it might be like when the three of us finally share the same room.

We’ve started calling her our unicorn.

And I think the name suits her.

Not because she’s some impossible fantasy.

Not because she’s something we expect to find every weekend.

Quite the opposite.

A genuine connection like this is rare.

Finding someone who understands the dynamic of a couple, who can flirt without turning everything into pressure, who can be confident without being arrogant, playful without being childish, and adventurous without bringing a suitcase full of drama along with her

Because there is something incredibly intimate about the first few minutes when everyone is trying to figure each other out.

The first smile.

The first hug.

The first proper look.

The first time we all sit down together and realize that the people we’ve been talking to on a screen are suddenly real.

I’ve wondered about that moment

I think about it sometimes.

The first time I see her.

Not in a photograph.

Not on my phone.

Not through a message.

Actually there.

Standing in front of us.

I wonder what I’ll notice first.

Her smile?

Her eyes?

Her hair?

The way she walks into a room?

Maybe I’ll simply notice the fact that my imagination suddenly has to make room for reality.

And I’ll probably be nervous.

I know my husband will try to pretend he isn’t.

He’ll probably be completely composed.

At least for approximately thirty seconds.

Then I’ll catch him looking.

I’ll give him the look.

He’ll grin.

And she’ll probably notice.

Which will make all three of us laugh.

And just like that, the awkwardness will disappear.

That’s the moment I’m really looking forward to.

Not some dramatic fantasy.

Just that instant where three strangers stop being strangers.

The woman behind the screen

There are things you can learn about somebody through conversation that photographs could never tell you.

The way she jokes.

The things she notices.

The way she responds when you tease her.

Whether she can laugh at herself.

Whether she knows how to flirt without making everything serious.

Whether she understands that sometimes the most exciting thing you can say is nothing at all.

Those things matter.

Perhaps more than anything else.

Because attraction might get someone through the door.

Chemistry is what makes you want them to stay.

And conversation is where chemistry begins.

We’ve already had enough conversations to make me curious about what happens when the distance disappears.

What happens when we don’t have to type the things we’re thinking?

What happens when a smile can replace a sentence?

What happens when a teasing look across a table says more than a paragraph ever could?

That’s the part I’m waiting for.

⸻

My husband knows

One of my favourite things about this whole situation is that I’m not experiencing it alone.

My husband is right there with me.

He sees the messages.

He hears the conversations.

He knows when I’ve become intrigued.

And he enjoys watching that curiosity grow.

Sometimes I’ll show him something she’s said.

He’ll read it.

Then he’ll look at me.

“Interesting.”

That’s his favourite word when he’s trying not to smile.

“Very.”

And we’ll carry on.

There isn’t that uncomfortable feeling of hiding attraction from each other.

Quite the opposite.

We enjoy it together.

Sometimes he’ll tease me.

“You seem rather interested.”

I’ll pretend to be offended.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Maybe.”

Then I’ll look at him.

“And you aren’t?”

He’ll grin.

“Didn’t say that.”

Exactly.

That’s the beauty of it.

We can both admit that she’s attractive.

We can both be curious.

We can both enjoy the anticipation.

And we can both wonder what it might be like to have her sitting between us at dinner, laughing at some ridiculous story.

That’s the fantasy.

The reality will be whatever it becomes.

⸻

And then there are the photographs

Of course, photographs add another layer.

They give the imagination something to work with.

A glimpse of dark hair.

A confident expression.

That unmistakable combination of femininity and attitude.

There’s something wonderfully natural about her appearance.

Not manufactured.

Not trying too hard.

Just a woman who clearly knows she’s attractive.

And perhaps that’s what makes the pictures linger.

It’s not simply what she looks like.

It’s the attitude behind them.

The suggestion that she knows exactly what she’s doing.

That mischievous confidence.

That little sense of I know you’re looking.

And yes…

We’re looking.

But we’re also curious about the woman behind the pictures.

Because ultimately, that’s who we want to meet.

The smile behind the photograph.

The laugh behind the message.

The personality behind the confidence.

⸻

I wonder if she’s nervous

That’s something I’ve thought about too.

She seems confident.

But maybe she’s wondering the same things we are.

Will they like me?

Will it feel natural?

Will the chemistry work?

Will I fit into their dynamic?

Will we laugh?

Will the first few minutes be awkward?

I hope she’s wondering.

Not because I want her nervous.

But because it would mean she cares about the outcome too.

And if she is nervous, I hope we can make her comfortable quickly.

I’d want the first evening to feel easy.

No pressure.

No expectations.

Just three people who already know they enjoy talking to each other, finally discovering what happens when they are together.

Maybe we sit around with drinks for hours.

Maybe we laugh until our stomachs hurt.

Maybe we go out for dinner and embarrass ourselves by talking too loudly.

Maybe we come back and continue talking until two in the morning.

Maybe there will be moments when the conversation goes quiet.

And nobody feels the need to fill the silence.

Those moments can be surprisingly intimate.

⸻

The anticipation is part of the fantasy

There’s something I’ve realised while we’ve been planning this.

I don’t actually want to know exactly what will happen.

I want some mystery.

I want to arrive at that getaway not knowing exactly how the evening will unfold.

I want to discover it.

I want the first look to happen naturally.

The first touch.

The first hug.

The first time one of us says something slightly cheeky and the other two realise we’re all thinking along the same lines.

I want that moment where the three of us exchange a glance and silently think:

Well… this could be interesting.

Because that’s when the fantasy becomes real.

Not when something dramatic happens.

But when the three of us realise the chemistry is actually there.

⸻

Maybe it’ll start with a drink

I can picture it.

The three of us sitting somewhere beautiful.

A drink in front of each of us.

The conversation flowing.

My husband beside me.

Her opposite us.

At first, we’re all slightly careful.

Then someone makes a joke.

Everyone laughs.

The tension loosens.

Another drink.

Another story.

A little teasing.

Maybe she catches my eye.

Maybe I catch hers.

Just for a second.Long enough.

I look away.

Then look back.

She’s smiling.

My husband notices.

Of course he does.

He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t need to.

And suddenly the entire atmosphere feels different.

Not because anything has happened.

But because something could.

That’s anticipation.

Sometimes anticipation is more powerful than anything else.

⸻

The first evening

I don’t know whether we’d go out afterwards.

Maybe we would.

Maybe we’d find somewhere with music and sit together for hours.

Maybe we’d walk somewhere quiet.

Maybe we’d simply stay where we are.

That’s what I like about this.

There isn’t a script.

We’re not arranging some carefully choreographed fantasy where everybody has to play a role.

We’re meeting a woman.

Getting to know her.

Seeing whether the connection we’ve built through conversation survives the transition into real life.

And if it does…

Well.....

Then the possibilities become rather interesting.

I can imagine us sitting together late into the night.

Shoes abandoned.

Drinks forgotten.

Conversation becoming quieter.

Closer.

The kind of conversation where people stop worrying about what they should say.

She might lean closer when she laughs.

I might reach across and touch her hand.

My husband might catch the moment.

And nobody pulls away.

Nobody needs to.

Because by then we’d know.

The chemistry would have answered the question for us.

⸻

There will probably be teasing

Lots of it.

I already know that.

She seems like the kind of woman who enjoys making people wonder what she’s thinking.

And I have a feeling she will enjoy watching the two of us try to figure her out.

Maybe she’ll deliberately sit a little closer.

Maybe she’ll catch me looking.

Maybe she’ll say something innocent with a smile that makes it anything but innocent.

And I’ll laugh.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

She’ll probably shrug.

“Maybe.”

That word.

Maybe.

It’s dangerous.

Because it leaves everything open.

And I think that’s exactly how this whole adventure should be.

Open.

Unforced.

A little unpredictable.

What I really want

I don’t want a fantasy woman.

I want a real woman.

Someone who can laugh.

Someone who can be herself.

Someone who understands that attraction doesn’t have to be complicated.

Someone who can spend an evening with a couple without constantly wondering where she stands.

Someone who can enjoy being desired without needing to control every second of the experience.

Someone who can walk away at the end of a weekend smiling because she had a fantastic time.

And I think that’s what we’re looking for.

Not perfection.

Connection.

That’s much rarer.

And much more exciting.

⸻

So why does she feel like a unicorn?

Because we’ve met plenty of attractive people.

Attraction isn’t rare.

What is rare is finding someone where everything seems to line up.

The attraction.

The personality.

The openness.

The humour.

The confidence.

The curiosity.

The ability to talk without turning everything into a negotiation.

The ability to flirt without making promises.

The ability to imagine possibilities without demanding outcomes.

That’s the unicorn.

And somehow we’ve stumbled across one.

She’s not standing in front of us yet.

She’s not lying beside us.

She’s not sitting across the table from us. She’s somewhere out there, living her own life, while the three of us are slowly making plans that might eventually put us in the same place.

And I love that.

Because something is still beautifully unfinished about it.

⸻

The getaway

One day, we’ll finally decide.

The dates.

The place.

The little details.

We’ll book it.

And suddenly this thing we’ve been talking about will have a date attached to it.

A beginning.

I’ll probably look at my husband and smile.

He’ll know exactly why.

Then we’ll tell her.

I can already imagine her reaction.

Maybe a smile.

Maybe a teasing comment.

Maybe something that makes me laugh.

And from that moment, the anticipation will become almost unbearable.

Because then we’ll know.

There’s no longer a vague sometime.

There’s a day.

A place.

A plan.

We’re going to meet.

⸻

And when that day finally comes…

I’ll probably be nervous.

I’ll probably pretend I’m not.

My husband will probably pretend he’s completely calm.

He won’t be.

And she might arrive with that same confident smile we’ve already seen in photographs.

Only this time, it won’t be a photograph.

It will be real.

She’ll walk toward us.

We’ll smile.

There might be that tiny pause.

That fraction of a second where everyone wonders who should speak first.

And then one of us will laugh.

Because that’s what people do when they’re nervous.

And we’ll hug.

And suddenly we’ll realise that all those weeks or months of messages have led to this one simple moment.

We’re finally together.

Three people.

One couple.

One woman who somehow became our unicorn before we’d even met her.

And maybe, just maybe, the first thing I’ll say after that hug will be:

“Finally.”

She’ll smile.

And perhaps she’ll answer:

“Took you long enough.”

I’ll laugh.

My husband will shake his head.

And we’ll walk inside.

⸻

And that’s where the real story begins

Because everything I’ve written so far is anticipation.

Possibility.

Imagination.

The delicious uncertainty of not knowing.

We haven’t had that first evening.

We haven’t shared that first drink.

We haven’t sat together until midnight talking about absolutely everything and nothing.

We haven’t discovered whether the chemistry in our messages becomes something tangible when we’re all standing together.

We don’t know who will be the first to get shy.

We don’t know who will make the first cheeky comment.

We don’t know who will break the tension.

We don’t know whether we’ll spend the entire weekend laughing.

We don’t know whether we’ll discover a connection none of us expected.

We don’t know what we’ll think when we wake up the next morning and realise: This actually happened. And honestly?

I wouldn’t change that.

Because sometimes the best part of an adventure is the moment before it begins.

The messages.

The planning.

The wondering.

The photographs.

The little fantasies.The jokes between my husband and me.

The anticipation of finally seeing her walk through that door.

That delicious question hanging between all three of us:

What happens when fantasy finally meets reality?

I don’t know.

Neither does my husband.

And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t either.

But that’s exactly why I want to find out.

Because she isn’t our unicorn, because we’ve already experienced everything with her.

She’s our unicorn because, somehow, before we’ve even met, she’s already managed to make us curious.

She’s made us laugh.

She’s made us wonder.

She’s given us something to look forward to.

Now there's a getaway waiting somewhere in our future.

A place we haven’t chosen yet.A date we haven’t settled yet.

A room none of us has stood in.

An evening that hasn’t happened.

A first look that hasn’t happened.

A first touch that hasn’t happened.

A thousand possibilities still waiting.

And perhaps that is the most exciting thing of all.

Because when we finally meet her, we won’t be repeating a story.

We’ll be starting one.

And maybe, when the three of us are finally sitting together, drinks in hand, laughing about how nervous we all were beforehand, I’ll look across at her and think:

There she is.

Not a fantasy.

Not a photograph.

Not a name on a screen.

Her.

The woman we’ve been waiting to meet.

Our unicorn.

And I’ll probably smile.

My husband will notice.

She’ll notice him noticing.

And we’ll all laugh.

Because somehow, I think that’s exactly how it should begin.

Not with expectations.

Not with a script.

Just three people who are attracted to one another, curious about one another, and brave enough to see where the c

The rest?

Well…

That’s the part we’re still waiting to discover. 🦄