Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Transportation Coordinator Cheating His Way Out of a Relationship: 31, male, Upper West Side, straight, mostly single.
DAY ONE
8:20 a.m.: Wake up and start messing around with E. It’s not unusual for us to be up this early on the weekend or to be fucking this early. She orgasms from penetration alone and I finish shortly after. The former is rare, the latter is not. E and I have been seeing each other regularly for about a year and she’s beginning to take it seriously. I met her soon after a seven-year relationship came to a close. It was to be a casual thing. Now she’s taking this more seriously than I am comfortable with.
10:45 a.m.: We’re eating a late breakfast at a little diner. Our conversation is punctuated by talk of sex, like it always is. She interjects with the occasional “I love you.” I know I don’t. I should have seen this coming. Now I’ve got to get out of this mess.
12:18 p.m.: Receive a text from A confirming our meeting at the Met at 2 p.m. I met A in the Middle East a few weeks ago while visiting my friend. She is in the States for vacation, so we made plans to hang out during her stay. I’m attracted to her in an easy-sex kind of way.
2:22 p.m.: Found her. We hug for what seems like fifteen seconds. She has a friend in tow that she is desperately trying to get rid of.
5:10 p.m.: We ditch her friend and go for food, drinks, and then ultimately a cab. We make out and I put my hand up her skirt. She stops me before I reach her panties. This momentarily frustrates me.
9:56 p.m.: We have sex for a few hours off and on. Lots of water is consumed. She finishes me off with a fierce blow job. She says, “Okay, fuck the condom” before ripping it off. She admits right afterward that she had been celibate for awhile.
10:23 p.m.: I send an e-mail to my friend (who is also her colleague) giving him a rundown. I wonder how I should feel about this … I’ve never slept with two women in the same day. I feel really weird for a second and wonder what the masculine term for “slut” is … “This is not like me,” I tell myself, making it all seem okay.
DAY TWO
6:05 a.m.: Fall out of bed and peel the discarded condom off the wall from last night.
10:53 a.m.: Bored, bored, bored with work. I tell my friend about E’s admissions of love, and he advises me to break it off with her right away. I know he’s right, but I’m not good at ending things.
8 p.m.: Meet up with Y, a 23-year-old graduate student from Asia. I met her a month before on my trip to Cairo. Italian food. The conversation is not that deep, and the food is mediocre. I’m tired from inactivity at work and it’s noticeable. And I’m feeling a little creepy. I try to act upbeat but fail. She puts her hand on my knee and I get hard. There is life left in me yet!
9:45 p.m.: Back at my place, we’re making out on my bed — the only place where Y will be intimate. We have good sex and she seems to cum a few times, but I can’t really tell — she seems like she’s making too big a deal out of it.
10:30 p.m.: We spoon, I pass out.
DAY THREE
6:30 a.m.: I try and fail to wake Y up for sex. I get up and shower.
10:10 a.m.: E keeps texting me, telling me that she wants to see me. I tell her that I’m depressed and I don’t want to see anyone. It’s true, to some degree.
3:30 p.m.: Y wants to come over and cook with me. I’m exhausted and I ask her if we can do it another night. She agrees, but I can tell she’s not too happy with me. I feel guilty.
6 p.m.: A invites me to Cirque Dreams with her and her friends. I tell her I’m working late. I’m not working late. Again, I feel guilty.
8:45 p.m.: Jerk off and then veg out in front of the television.
DAY FOUR
12:32 p.m.: I get three texts. One from each girl. E wants oral sex and tells me she loves me. A wants to go to a concert in Central Park. Y still wants to cook. This simultaneously excites me — three women want me! — and makes me feel odd.
2:45 p.m.: I tell A that I will meet her, blow off the others.
6:30 p.m.: Sitting out on the Great Lawn with A and her friends, drinking wine. A won’t shut up. She talks and talks and talks. Says the word “precisely” way too often. I consider myself lucky she is leaving in a few days.
11:45 p.m.: A tells me she didn’t want me to think we had a future. I try to repress a big grin with no success. I didn’t think I gave her the impression I wanted her as a girlfriend … was she using reverse psychology?
1:30 a.m.: I am home, alone, and I’m thankful because of it.
DAY FIVE
6:45 a.m.: A few extra minutes today, so I masturbate to some random solo-girl porn on my computer before showering and running out of the apartment.
8:33 a.m.: A sends a text — “Next sleepover … Have a ‘present’ for you. I had it prepared in my bag…” Briefly try to figure out what she could be talking about.
9:25 a.m.: E sends me a long e-mail list on how to overcome depression. She ends it with a P.S.: “I miss your mouth.”
10:01 a.m.: My friend and I exchange catch-up e-mails. I tell him I’m tired of A. He tells me he spent three days in Jordan. His rundown was more interesting.
11:30 p.m.: I put my head in my hands and wonder what the hell I’m doing.
1 p.m.: Decide the only way out of this malaise is to find a girl I want to marry. Y IMs me, tries to say that she still wants to cook for me, but instead tells me that she “wants to cock.”
10:50 p.m.: Dinner and TV at Y’s. We sit on her bed and watch Cartoon Network. She lives in a gigantic apartment in Harlem. I’m exhausted, but want to get laid. She gets the hint but she’s playing it out. I’m debating whether or not to go home.
11:45 p.m.: I fall asleep while she’s in the shower. She comes in, lies on top of me and I take off my shorts.
11:55 p.m.: Ugh. That was quick. I lasted hardly a few minutes. What the hell is going on? I don’t think she noticed and I try to recover by pleasuring her. She’s not having it and tells me to go to sleep. Maybe she did notice. Ego takes a hit. We both set cell phone alarms for 5 a.m.
12:40 a.m.: We talk for a long time. She tells me about some guy she’s seeing that may or may not have a girlfriend — she’s not sure. She asked for a secret, so I told her some story about how I was arrested in Seattle for vagrancy. It’s a story that I cobbled together from other people’s experiences — nothing that ever happened to me in real life. She told me how she was raped by her boyfriend after they broke up when she was 17. The act resulted in a terminated pregnancy. Yikes! That beats my “secret.”
DAY SIX
6:11 a.m.: Holy fuck! What happened to the alarms?
7:20 a.m.: Home. Showered, shaved, and coffee. Plenty of time to spare. My friend and I exchange a few e-mails. I need to have a conversation with someone I don’t work with or sleep with or am not trying to sleep with.
9:30 a.m.: E sends a text asking how I’m doing. “Oh, okay, I guess” is my response.
9:50 a.m.: Try to make plans to meet A later in the evening via IM. Says yes, but she can’t stay out too late because she has an early flight. Just as well, I think. I suggest dinner and drinks. She goes offline without answering.
11:10 a.m.: Y IMs me, telling me that I snored and almost pushed her off the bed. I apologize. She said it was okay. She says she would like to see me again soon. I’m surprised after last night’s ultra-quick performance.
8 p.m.: Dinner with A is ordered, conversation is light. She is wearing a very low-cut and revealing top. Occasionally, she runs her hand between her breasts, smiling. A few drinks later we’re all over each other.
DAY SEVEN
Midnight: The cab ride home was spent making out. Clothes are left by the front door.
1:30 a.m.: Again, I’m finished off with an enthusiastic blow job. She spends way too much time sucking on my balls, which turns out to be somewhat painful and tickles like I wouldn’t have imagined. All is made up when she says her favorite part is tasting herself all over me.
4 a.m.: She showered and gathered herself. Cab is at the door and we kiss good-bye. We both promise to keep in contact as she leaves the apartment.
4:10 a.m.–6 p.m.: Coma sleep, food, sleep. Too early to tell how I’ll feel about this.
Totals: Five sessions of intercourse with three women, two of them non-U.S. citizens; six meals with three women; two nights alone; two acts of masturbation.
