Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Casual-Encountering Retail Merchandiser: 26, male, Lower East Side, straight, in a relationship.

DAY ONE
11:30 a.m.: Waking up to a massive hard-on and loving that it is unseasonably warm and sunny. I finally get to see some legs after a long, cold, damp winter.
2 p.m.: Walking into my friendly local Key Food and notice a note on the door that the hot cashier — who I used to dream of having sex with on the conveyer belt for all shoppers to see — was murdered by her nut job of a boyfriend. In the store. I sure know how to pick ’em.
5 p.m.: Setup my biweekly Craigslist casual-encounter post with a shirtless pic of myself from an angle where my girlfriend can’t notice it is I. I can’t help it that so many white women have secret fantasies of sleeping with black men behind closed doors. Just type "interracial" on any porn site.

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the, um, Interactive Producer in a Workplace Affair: 27, female, Lower East Side, straight, married.

DAY ONE
1:07 a.m.: Lie in bed with pseudo boyfriend. Afterglow. What started off as a very close work friendship with an almost sweet sexual tension has turned into a full-blown affair.
1:15 a.m.: We kiss a lot like they're our last kisses, because "spring break," as we've been referring to the month that my husband has been away, is nearly over. We keep talking about a winding-down period — though it's not likely. We'll have to start fucking at work. For what it's worth, I've been "faithful" to Pseudo.

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Rebounding Divorcé Lawyer: 36, male, straight, recently divorced, financial district.

DAY ONE
6:15 a.m.: Alarm goes off. Morning wood is pronounced, as if it knows about Sex Diary project. Kiss sleeping sweet, loving, sexy Rebound Girl. I use capital "R" and capital "G" because your first (and second, and third…) post-divorce relationships are quintessential rebounds. Take silent pride in the fact that Rebound Girl is hotter and kinder than ex-wife.
7:25 a.m.: Check morning e-mails on BlackBerry. They include a message from a regular swingers party that my ex-wife and I used to frequent. She apparently still goes, but now with my former best man/best friend, whom I discovered she was sleeping with six months ago, leading to my divorce after two and a half years of marriage. We all thought he was closeted. Guess not.

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Terrified-of-Seeing-the-Ex Fashion Student: 20, female, Manhattan, straight, single.

DAY ONE
11:56 a.m.: On my way to class. Ever since I moved into his neighborhood, I’m terrified of running into him … and his new, younger, prettier girlfriend. We had a happy relationship until one day he felt it was too much for him to handle and dumped me by deleting me on MySpace. Haven’t seen him in four months, and I’m still trying to figure out what to say when I finally do see him again.
5:13 p.m.: : Eye-fucking some hot guy in the elevator at school, but he reeks of the “straight-boy who goes to fashion school” ego. I suspect that the girls who have found decent boyfriends here are probably the same girls who have an orgasm every time. Lucky bitches…
9:19 p.m.: : Dinner with my best friend from high school. We finally resolve the typical catty bullshit we’ve been holding for years — but I can never tell her about that one-night stand I had with her boyfriend during freshman year of college after one too many Red Stripes.

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Guy in a Smoking-Hot, Not-Quite-in-Love Relationship: 26, male, straight, UES, advertising manager.

DAY ONE
9 a.m.: Koreatown hangover. To alleviate the nausea, I watch a saved-until-manually-erased DVR'd OnDemand porn. It features co-eds and/or teens.
Midnight: Wasted in Brooklyn. I’ve been in a relationship for the past six months despite my rampant self-involvement and immaturity. I’m constantly pushing my luck. Luckily, she’s not out tonight to see the drunkenness.
1 a.m.: Still wasted, and en route to Manhattan-bound subway. I walk past an attractive girl smoking and crying in an apartment doorway. We talk. She's French and still crying. I tell her a joke about two peanuts walking into a bar. I walk her to her doorstep and decide not to lean in.

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Rebounding Law Student: 26, female, Chelsea, straight, law student.

DAY ONE
8:15 a.m.: Feeling groggy after staying up until 2 a.m. perusing Nerve.com's personals. The ex and I mutually broke up last week after show at Bowery Ballroom. I'm doing relatively okay, and the online searching is progress. But my friend was right — too many trashy hipsters. They are oh-so-adorable trashy hipsters, though.
8:42 a.m.: See well-groomed guy in navy wool coat, khakis, and leather shoes on the subway. I need to date someone like him instead of the man-boy in a hoodie, jeans, and Nike high-tops that I broke up with last week.
11:40 a.m.: See Heath Ledger on a magazine and momentarily get scared for my ex taking a similar cocktail of drugs, even though he assured me before we broke up that he's not doing that anymore. He's so doing that.

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Very Busy, Very Horny Single Mother of Two: 35, female, West Harlem, straight, single.

DAY ONE
4:30 a.m.: Alarm goes off. I stumble out of bed and nearly kill myself tripping over a toy on the floor. Ugh, my head hurts with the onset of a head cold. I fall back asleep
6 a.m.: OMG, I am going to be late getting my two sleeping children awake and off to school. I fell asleep last night quite horny after thinking about the hot sex my boyfriend and I had this past weekend … okay, stop thinking about it and get ready.

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Office Don Juan With a Taste for Casual Encounters: male, 33, Upper East Side, single, straight, program coordinator.

DAY ONE
2:15 a.m.: Awakened in the middle of the night by my Craigette — a Craigslist casual encounter from a few months ago that worked out. We’ve been seeing each other fairly frequently since meeting. It’s starting to get pretty serious, which is as nice as it is unexpected. Her bad dream woke me up.
2:25 a.m.: Consoling Craigette leads to quiet, intense sex.
8:30 a.m. :Alarm clock goes off — I wake to radio chatter about high-class prostitutes.
8:39 a.m.: Alarm clock goes off — I wake to radio chatter about high-class prostitutes.
9:45 a.m.: Taking the train downtown for work. Incredibly crowded. As a man’s crotch sways in my face, and I contemplate whether I would ever be able to go down on a man.
10:05 a.m.: See an e-mail from a former co-worker. I slept with this woman some time back, immediately after she filed for her divorce. She’s coming to New York and wants to know if she needs to make “an appointment.” Not sure what I think about this trip, as I have done nothing to encourage her since our encounter.
11:13 a.m: In a meeting with several colleagues when I realize the woman across the table from me, a woman that I’ve never really contemplated sexually, has a very sheer shirt on. I stare at the outline of her bra. Consider asking if she wants to get a drink after work.
2:23 a.m.: Former co-worker writes again, asking about an appointment. I put her off by asking why she’s coming to New York and where’s she’s staying.
9:25 p.m.: Out with some people from work after a successful event. Craigette sends me a text message asking me to come over.
9:35 p.m.: Craigette calls. I tell her that I’ll give her a call when I get back to the neighborhood, but that it might be late.
2:12 a.m.: I call Craigette, but she doesn’t answer.

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the 29-Year-Old Desperately in Love With a 19-Year-Old: Female, Bensonhurst, straight.

DAY ONE
10:30 a.m.: He calls me from work, and I ignore the call on purpose to seem not so interested. He's 19, and I'm 29. This is my tactic to keep him interested and wondering what I'm doing.
10:33 a.m.:: Two minutes later I feel stupid for not answering his call because I really want to hear his voice. I contemplate on whether to return his phone call, but don't.
5 p.m.: I return his call, knowing he's not going to answer because he is on the train coming home from work. I leave him a voice mail asking him to call me back when he hears this. I wish he would come over tonight, but he's very inconsistent.

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Hot, Everything-But Guy: 26, male, Chelsea, gay, single.

DAY ONE
7:05 a.m.: Wake up an hour before alarm, ugh. I need to pee.
7:10 a.m.: Once the morning wood deflates, I climb down stairs from my loft bed, put on boxers, and scurry out of apartment into hallway to the shared bathroom.
7:45 a.m.: Making yummy omelette with hot peppers when I hear sounds of flip-flops flip-flopping from the hall. I look through the peephole with a clear view of hallway to the shared shower hoping for Hot Neighbor in apartment #4 or guy above me in #10. Nope, it's just Cliff.