I Need To See Your ID Before We Have Sex
The Time I Asked for Identification Before Having Sex With Someone
We were getting ready to undress and I was excited, filled with the anticipation of arousal, and ready for sex. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t wait to see her flesh completely bare, unshrouded, nude before my very eyes. I waited patiently to ask the question so we could get down to business and enjoy one another’s bodies — even if just for one night.
Several years ago I found myself in a hotel in Orlando, Florida, having just arrived from California to stay for a couple of months while I completed some work, and I was feeling aroused, bored, excited to be in a new city, and a bit of a hodgepodge of other emotions that resembled a gradient between excitement and wonder. The crisp air was getting cool, it was December, the perfect time for a trip to such a warm climate. Across the main road from my hotel room sat a Starbucks that served their usual coffee — you know, the kind that tastes like deliciousness poured into your mouth at four-hundred degrees Fahrenheit? The moment you take your first sip, you think to yourself, “Do they make this stuff the flavor of scalding flesh on purpose?”
It was the perfect thing to warm me up as the temperatures dropped about as low as Florida goes, which is about fifty-five degrees. Going there was a part of my daily routine and I spent hours collecting my thoughts and enjoying the richness of the bold, aromatic, roasted coffee and the sounds of organic jazz. The only thing better to compliment the falling temperatures, at that point, would have been a cuddle partner — or perhaps some hot, casual sex and then a cuddle partner.
Every day, I’d arrive and order as I sat and would listen to the sounds of the people chatting, those indistinct voices that seemed to blur together, myself only catching rudimentary and fragmented pieces of conversation, on occasion. As I sat, I’d observe the bustle of the establishment while having fragmented conversations of my own on Facebook, Instagram, and of course, Tinder.
I could tell it was the first time a man had asked her for ID before sex…
In those couple of months, I met some pretty amazing women, all of them were genuinely beautiful people inside and out. Life, at the time, was nothing more than enjoying myself with minimal responsibilities. I was single and unapologetically having fun. I met a girl who I found quite intriguing on Tinder and we eventually had coffee at that very same Starbucks, before we decided on going back to my hotel room for some conversation and possibly something naughty. The conversation about which types of sex we enjoyed had already taken place in juicy detail, streaming through the digital lines of communication that had connected us without cease…we both knew where this was heading…we were into each other and sex was imminent…
The moment came as her big, bright, beautiful eyes gazed up toward me and they met mine and locked. We were sitting across from one another in the chairs provided by the luxury hotel I had booked. We’d been chatting for about an hour, getting lost in silly conversation and shameless jokes, an impressive start for two people who’d only met one another in person a few hours earlier.
Her smile was more playful in person, yet sinister in a way, mischievous even, and her dark complexion was nothing shy of mesmerizing. I’d never been with someone from Morocco before and I must say, she was nothing shy of stunning — even before her clothes came off. Most of all, she was honest and direct. She was candid in a way that most other girls weren’t— she radiated authenticity in every gesture and every glance. She didn’t have to tell me that she was mostly interested in casual sex, in order for me to know it — it was just understood. I appreciated this honesty that she wore with every move.
“Would it be alright if I saw your ID before we have any physical contact?” I asked her directly and with the most assertive-yet-friendly tone possible, as I sat back into my chair and extended my legs to sit more comfortably.
“What?! Why?” She replied, slightly annoyed, but she did the thing where she nervously giggled a bit to try to cover up that fact.
“Listen, it’s not that I want to be rude or that I don’t trust you, I do, otherwise you wouldn’t be here in the first place, but I need you to understand that the consequences of me letting just one person slip through the cracks could be catastrophic for my life and arguably yours, too. I just need to see some state-issued verification that you are as old as you say you are.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, as she began to rummage through her purse after retrieving it from the ground near her feet, “If you insist…”
I could tell it was the first time a man had asked her for ID before sex…sure enough, she was nineteen, just as she’d said she was…
“Thank you, I’m sorry about that….I hope you can understand,” I said, continuing, “I really don’t see asking for ID and making sure that someone is over 18 as being all that different from asking to see an STD test or asking for other types of safe sex, like condoms, don’t you?” This caught her off guard…
“You know…” she said, before taking a long pause, “I’ve never thought of it like that before.” I could see the moment when it all clicked in those pretty eyes of hers. I was also surprised at how quickly her slight annoyance disappeared and was quickly replaced by the trust of learning that I was only after one thing: responsible, healthy sex.
From here, we had a few more laughs before I took my extended pointer finger and grazed it against the contour of her gorgeous jawline, beginning from the hinge of her jaw slightly beneath the ear and wrapping around front to her chin to nudge her face upward toward me as I stood above her, moving up from my formerly seated position. Her eyes pierced through mine and could have lit up the sky. I winced as if to cut right through her with a hungry stare of my own. From here, we launched into one another simultaneously like two objects collide wrapping our arms around one another and our lips pulsed and heads swirled for our first kiss.
Not only did we hit it off well from the beginning, but she knew from that point forward that I was someone she could confide in, someone she would probably be safe with, someone who would keep her information secure, and someone who was willing to sacrifice the chance of possibly hooking up with a really, very gorgeous woman if it meant protecting us both — all very powerful messages which can be communicated with a single question.
The sex was extremely good, we did it in a lot of positions and in all sorts of fashions; I think we ended up having sex twice back-to-back with a short rest period in between. It was so good that I got a little depressed instantly, afterward, knowing that this would likely be the only time we slept together or had any sort of real intimacy. She was a good girl from a wealthy family, I was a rebellious man with a world to conquer and cities to see, we were simply too different to try and mingle in the broader scope of our respective social lives, but the attraction and chemistry we shared alone were undeniable.
The sex was downright explosive. We couldn’t keep our hands off one another and the cuddling session afterward hit the spot. Sometimes, the people we come into contact with aren’t right for us but that’s no excuse to throw away a visceral attraction and rob ourselves of the opportunity for some spicy, unbridled sex just because we don’t have a future or our friends wouldn’t approve.
The point is that we should take care of one another in these moments, however, to look after one another, to help one another, and to do no harm. We are out for pleasure and connection, after all, right? Asking for ID was just one more step in the process of obtaining consent and I can only assure other men out there that it’s an intelligent move for us to make — it protects everyone involved. And being bold, being upfront about this, even asking to see ID communicates that you care about these things. Think about it, had she been a year and some months younger and lying to me, this story could have ended very differently. Had she been seventeen, two lives might have been ruined over a lie and a bit of irresponsibility. This wasn’t the only time I asked for ID, it was actually something I did often, and while I was always met with a raised eyebrow and a bit of confusion every single time, it was always worth it. No, I’ve never been rejected just because I asked a woman to prove that she was old enough to have sex with me. No one has ever stormed out and left me high and dry, nothing like that has ever happened to me. Should we normalize this practice? I think so. I think it should be taught to children who are coming of age that it’s just the smart thing to do.
Dear reader, I will let you decide…