Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week: the Advertising Underling Sleeping Around While Waiting for Mr. Right; 22, female, Chelsea,straight, single.
DAY ONE
7:45 a.m.: In the shower, trying to decide if I should do a bit of personal grooming. It is Wednesday, which means I will most likely be drinking tonight, and better safe than sorry.
9:30 a.m.: On the way to Grandma’s funeral. I’ve been single for about a year now after a very messy, Oops-I-Made-Out-With-Your-Frat-Brother-While-Drunk breakup with my boyfriend of three years. Yes, I know. This would be so much easier if he were here.
9:45 a.m.: Arrive at funeral home. See car in parking lot and briefly believe ex-boyfriend has somehow heard about my grandmother’s death and rushed to my aid. Of course the car has local plates, meaning ex is still out of state with his girlfriend, Bland Girl. Elaborate fantasy ends.
7:30 p.m.: Check mail at apartment and see a letter from my gynecologist. I = STD FREE! Great success.
9:30 p.m.: At trivia with some friends, including Euro Guy, a student I met through my friend. We’ve hooked up a few times, unbeknownst to my best guy friend, Ben. Order a bourbon and Diet Coke. Game on.
11 p.m.: A college friend that I accidentally made out with a few weeks ago arrives. Begin flirting, partially so that Euro Guy will see.
11:30 p.m.: Still talking to college friend. Get a BBM from Euro Guy: “Want to hang out after this?” Not exactly charming, but I will take it.
Midnight: In cab with Euro Guy back to my place. We’ve been trying to keep our late-night trysts a secret, mostly because he believes that Ben is interested in me. He asks me how many people know about us. I leave out that almost everyone knows except for Ben
12:30 p.m.: Having sex with Euro Guy.
12:50 p.m.: Briefly recall once calling his penis weird-looking while drunk. It has a strange curve to it. He finishes; I do not.
DAY TWO
7:30 a.m.: Wake up to alarm. Head hurts.
7:35 a.m.: Euro Guy is also awake, attempting some sort of foreplay. Morning sex. This time I get off, but only because I give myself some personal attention. Hope roommate doesn’t hear.
8:40 a.m.: Leave for work while Euro is still asleep in my bed.
1 p.m.: Discussing karma with a co-worker. We are both certain we’re doomed to never meet the right person since we cheated on perfectly fine boys who adored us. Here’s to hoping we’re wrong.
7:45 p.m.: Pre-gym session with my trusty vibrator. I rarely let myself browse porn sites. Catholic guilt, I guess.
10:30 p.m.: Fix bed after morning massacre and get some much-needed sleep.
DAY THREE
3:30 p.m.: Too anxious to work, so decide to browse wedding blogs. Jealousy. Being single is a lot of fun, but ultimately I just want to settle down with someone awesome. Contemplate going on a sex hiatus and looking for something serious.
9 p.m.: Tipsy while getting ready for dinner after wine with a group of friends who are in town. Visit with my vibrator for a few minutes.
11:30 p.m.: Recklessly order a bottle of Champagne for our group, even though my salary is minuscule.
12:30 a.m.: Bars with friends. I accidentally spill wine on myself. Attempt to clean with club soda, and instead it looks like I’ve lactated all over my dress. Classy.
1 a.m.: Texting some of the reserves, including a boy straight out of NYC Prep.
2:30 a.m.: Meet NYC Prep at his apartment. On the way there, get a text from Euro Guy asking if he can come over. Tell him I will think about it, then fail to respond.
3 a.m.: In bed with NYC Prep. Since moving to NYC we hook up every few months, even though he’s emotionally unavailable (read: crazy).
3:15 a.m.: Pretend to be interested in mundane conversation topics, including how the actual cast of NYC Prep ruined what he and his friends had established. Hold back laughter. Why am I here?
3:30 a.m.: Having sex. He is not very good in bed, which I have shared with him on occasion. Puts my legs over my head. Am I the only girl in the world who HATES this position?
3:45 a.m.: I am bored. Speed up the process by giving him a blow job and then pass out.
DAY FOUR
8:30 a.m.: In NYC Prep’s bed. Curse myself.
9 a.m.: NYC Prep asks if it is okay if he doesn’t walk me to the door. Never again. Walk of shame home.
2 p.m.: Dad’s birthday party. Drinking beers in a sports-stadium suite.
3 p.m.: My aunt is drunk. And trying to set me up with a questionably gay member of the staff. This is getting awkward.
4 p.m.: Manage to stop Aunt from giving questionably gay man my card. Leave stadium to nap.
1 a.m.: Out with friends, including Euro Guy, Ben, and an Intern I sometimes try to sleep with just to say I did.
1:45 a.m.: Trying very hard not to vomit. Urge dissipates. I’ve won.
2:30 a.m.: Very, very drunk friend Melissa is aggressively flirting with Euro Guy. He tells me her opening line was, “You look like you’d be fun to hook up with.”
2:45 a.m.: Melissa gets mad that Euro Guy is being unresponsive and tells me he must be gay. She realizes she was hitting on THE Euro Guy. Her response: Do you mind if I flirt with him?
3 a.m.: Euro Guy and I are alone! Making out at bars is one of my favorite pastimes.
3:30 a.m.: Cab with Euro Guy, who again gives the “Why we cannot tell Ben” speech. I’m starting to think he wouldn’t care. Then he asks why I choose to hook up with him rather than any of our other mutual friends. Weird.
3:35 a.m.: Text from the intern. Leaving the bar was a mistake. Clearly.
3:45 a.m.: Sex with Euro Guy and pass out. Again no orgasm.
DAY FIVE
9:30 a.m.: Wake Euro Guy up for some morning sex. I do not get off again. Sometimes I am absolutely impossible.
11 a.m.: Send Euro Guy home to change before brunch with out-of-town friends, so he doesn’t ruin our clever ruse.
2:30 p.m.: There is a D.J. at Sunday unlimited-drinks brunch? These are my people. Dancing. Slosh mimosas everywhere. Melissa breaks a glass. Euro Guy is either amused or afraid.
5 p.m.: Leave. Go to Ben’s apartment. Pass out on ottoman.
7 p.m.: Wake up to Euro Guy taking pictures of me passed out. Definition of class.
8:30 p.m.: Dinner with Ben and Euro Guy. Euro Guy and I do our best to act casual.
9 p.m.: Find friends, who are still passed out from brunch and have all missed their trains home. Help them piece together their lives and send them to Penn Station. Go home and pass out.
DAY SIX
10 a.m.: At work. I’m not in college anymore. I can’t keep acting like a frat guy.
11 a.m.: Recounting stories of the weekend over Gchat.
4 p.m.: Talking to Ben on Gchat. He has been trying to get with the same girl for a month, and she still hasn’t put out.
6 p.m.: Contemplate BBMing Euro Guy about his evening plans, but resist. Must pretend to be uninterested.
10 p.m.:: Finally leave work. Bitter, tired and alone. Grab dinner with Dad and promptly fall asleep.
DAY SEVEN
10 a.m.: Exchanging e-mails with roommate and Ben about concert tonight with Euro Guy and the girl he’s dating.
Noon: Giving blood for the first time. Pass all of the weird sexual questions with flying colors and feel instantly better about myself.
6:30 p.m.: At the liquor store in my neighborhood. Buy far too much bourbon.
7 p.m.: Train to Long Island. Euro Guy is acting distant. He tells me I am a stain and better slow down on the drinking. Can’t tell if he is amused or horrified.
9 p.m.: At concert. So happy. Find a group of boys in front of us and promise to give them bourbon if they share their joint. They oblige.
9:30 p.m.: Ben goes to buy chasers. Euro Guy kisses me and thanks me for inviting him, ecstatic because I could have invited anyone but invited him. What is with his weird “why me” complex?
10 p.m.: Get all emotional because these shows make me miss being in love.
10:30 p.m.: Starting to black out. Continue on my “I miss being in love” tirade. Text Ben that “every time I see this group, I pray to love the one who is with me.” (Note: The next morning I will be MORTIFIED by this text message.)
10:45 p.m.: Text the ex. He has only HORRIBLE memories of all of the shows we’ve been to together, yet I insist on texting him at every one. Tell him that it makes me miss him.
11:30 p.m.: Pass out on LIRR.
12:30 a.m.: Stumble to a cab, say good-bye to Euro Guy, bed.
TOTALS: Four acts of intercourse; two acts of masturbation; five days involving heavy drinking.
