Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Single College Girl Obsessed With a Yale Law Student: 20, female, East Village, straight, single, and looking.
11:46 a.m.: Wake up to phone call from mom. Run downstairs for coffee and a bagel.
12:45 p.m.: Surf the Net for a while and then get back in bed. Start thinking about hot medical-school student who flirted with me yesterday at the hospital where I’m interning. Use alone time without roommates to masturbate while picturing hot med student undressing me and enjoying my anatomy.
10:45 p.m.: At lame bar with girls from college. Run into old friend from sleepaway camp who’s put on some weight. Wonder if she’s thinking the same about me.
11:05 p.m.: No one at the bar remotely attractive or interesting. Gulp my Mojito and tell the girls I’m calling it an early night. Wish that I had a boyfriend to come home to. That was one of my favorite things about being with my ex — knowing that he’d be waiting for me to come over and spend the night. I was a freshman in college for the six months we were together; he was my first and only real boyfriend. But he graduated and it all ended a year ago. I haven’t had anything serious since, but I’m living in New York City — just about the only thing I’ve ever wanted more than a boyfriend, and there’s a whole city around me filled with possibilities.
5:30 p.m.: Hit the Met with best friend to escape the heat. We find a group of Upper East Side prep-school boys more exciting to observe than the collection and hypothesize reasons as to why all rich boys walk with the same swagger.
7:30 p.m.: Best friend gets a call from an acquaintance inviting us to a party at her older brother’s apartment. He goes to Yale Law School — we’ll be there.
11:05 p.m.: Party is okay. Talk to some fellow Ivy Leaguers who spurt intellectual justifications as to why they’re using their education to make exorbitant amounts of money for themselves rather than bettering society.
11:37 p.m.: Introduced to acquaintance’s older brother. He mentions something about opera, and I feign interest because he’s pretty cute. He then proceeds to quiz me about some esoteric English composer in order to make me sound and feel like a total idiot. Determine that he probably wants in my pants.
12:42 a.m.: Suspicion confirmed when he challenges me to a game of darts. Just as I’m about to shoot my first dart, I feel his arms wrap around my waist and he whispers in my ear, “How’s your concentration now?” I’m immediately aroused. He offers me a tour of the outside, and suddenly we’re in the alley kissing up against the brick wall. He puts his hands up dress, caresses my legs, and draws me closer to him. He tells me I’m sweaty. I say it’s his fault for not having air conditioning. He tells me he likes the idea of making me wet and that there’s air conditioning in the bedroom. Decline the offer seeing as his sister/my best friend is still there. Put my number in his phone while he licks my ear.
1:27 a.m.: Leave party with best friend who lectures me about how he took advantage of the four-year age difference. Too drunk and elated about my steamy hookup to care. My head is already filled with the possibility of us hanging out again and again having a spectacular summer city romance.
2 a.m.: “Sucks that you left,” he texts. The drunken beginnings of true love … I try to convince myself.
11:45 a.m.: Wake up. Hope he calls. Grab a bagel. Tell myself to stop eating bagels or I’ll get fat and no one from Yale Law School will want to screw me.
12:17 p.m.: Roommates finally gone — my thoughts immediately turn to the dart game and the alley and when he told me I had a tight ass. Think about what would have happened if we had gone up to his room. Have truly fantastic orgasm and hope he can give me one in person soon.
12:32 p.m.: Sick of staring at the phone waiting for him to call. It’s just that he’s so perfect. No one’s perfect, but he comes pretty close: intelligent, Jewish, tall, cute, and working as a summer associate at a serious law firm where he’s guaranteed a job when he graduates. I’ve hooked up with some pretty good catches in the past, but this guy seems to have the whole package.
11:25 p.m.: Wallowing in self-pity. I’m just so desperate to be taken on an actual date and will be so crushed if Yale Law boy never calls. I always do this: get myself way too invested only to be let down. I know that I do it but just cannot make a conscious effort to stop.
8:30 a.m.: At the hospital, enjoy flirty eye contact with hot med student — forgot all about him after the weekend’s escapes. Psyched when he asks me what I’m doing for lunch but disappointed to hear he’s off to study for the boards.
4:30 p.m.: Hit the gym for daily three-mile run. Think about Yale Law boy’s hands on my “tight” ass with every pace.
6 p.m.: Find my in-box flooded with e-mails regarding messages, flirts, and hot listings from dating site.
9 p.m.: Frustrated that I wasted three hours of my life responding to guys on a dating site. Who knew the service included an instant-message feature? Just as I’m about to finally sign off, I receive an IM from a relatively normal recent college grad. Give him a shot because he’s not wearing a muscle shirt or posing on a motorcycle in any of his pictures. Don’t feel up to Internet small talk, so I flat-out ask him to meet me for food. Also ask him not to rape me.
9:10 p.m.: In utter disbelief I am going out with someone who I “met” online ten minutes ago. Alas, I’m up to try anything.
10:45 p.m.: While waiting for my Internet date, I get a call from Yale Law boy! We make plans to hang out Thursday after he’s done at the firm. In true lawyer fashion, he completely dominates the conversation and doesn’t allow much out of me besides a few giggles and a “sounds good.” Wish I could send Internet date home considering his services are no longer needed.
10:49 p.m.: Internet date is astronomically less attractive in person than he is in his pictures. Sweet kid, but pretty awkward. I carry the conversation as best as possible and know that I’ll never hear from him again.
11:59 p.m.: Promise to quit dating site tomorrow because I have succeeded in getting a real, live date all on my own — and a Jewish Yale law student at that! Lay in bed contemplating what to wear on my date, whether he’ll be interested in a long-distance relationship after our thrilling date, and what boys’ and girls’ names go with his last name.
11 a.m.: Standard morning at the hospital. Hot med student approaches while I’m at the copy machine doing bitch work. He makes a sexist joke about me getting him a coffee and filing some of his paperwork. Don’t really mind because I’m hoping this means he finds me sexy and wants to fuck me. Act accordingly — roll eyes, put hands on hips, and give him a teasing, “You would only be so lucky.”
4 a.m.: Fill in best friend on pending date with Yale Law boy. She’s skeptical and concerned that I’m setting myself up to get hurt when I realize he’s only after sex.
7 p.m.: Dinner with my grandparents. They eagerly listen to my stories about working in a hospital. Every time I mention a female doctor my grandfather asks if she’s married and has kids. How subtle.
6:45 a.m.: Tomorrow is my date with Yale Law boy. Must not eat carbs today.
7:15 a.m.: Eat a bagel on the way to work.
9 a.m.: Hot med student and I are assigned to shadow the same doctor all morning. Score.
10 a.m.: My mind starts to wander while the doctor is taking a lengthy patient history. Hot med student is sitting inches from me. Start to imagine what we could do alone in this exam room. Picture him lifting me onto the table, his stethoscope falling to the ground as he massages my breasts with his big, strong surgeon hands.
5:30 p.m.: Meet friend for drinks in midtown. Love midtown — so many young, professional men wearing Oxford shirts tucked into khakis. Guys in work attire really turn me on. I think it’s the feeling that they could take care of me. That’s all I really want … and some raunchy lunch-hour sex.
6:30 p.m.: Yale Law boy calls — he’s caught up at the firm and doesn’t know when he’ll be done. I try to play it cool. He promises to call if there’s any chance of him getting out. Wonder if he’s lying.
9:15 p.m.: Phone rings. He apologizes and suggests that I come over.
10:45 p.m.: After playing Jewish geography and boring me to death about corporate law and litigation, he suggests we head up to his bedroom to “watch TV.” He can barely find the remote before we’re on top of each other. He’s kissing me softly, unlike our alley antics of last weekend, but I’m definitely into it. Things progress and I am pleasantly surprised by his very toned arms and abs. He’s so ridiculously perfect for me. I let him play with the area below my belly button, unzip my jeans, and touch me under my brand-new Victoria’s Secret lace-trimmed panties for a bit. Things are good, but I make an executive decision to stop before we go too far. Hope this will increase the chances that he’ll call again. He agrees to resume watching TV as long as I keep my shirt off.
12:10 a.m.: He puts me in a cab but doesn’t offer to pay. This bothers me. Am also bothered by the fact that he was more interested in talking about himself than getting to know me. It was really more of a hookup than a date, come to think of it. Oh well, I like his sarcasm and his skin touching mine — I can get past the arrogance. I know that I shouldn’t get too wrapped up in this guy because he’ll probably stop calling me once I give him head, but I can’t help hoping that just maybe there’ll be dinner dates, sleepovers, and morning-after brunches in our future. The truth is, I figure that I’m going to be let down by pretty much every guy until I find the One, so I might as well enjoy what I can get, right?
Totals: Two makeout sessions with Yale law student, including one executive decision to thwart his attempt at third base; two acts of masturbation; one medical examination fantasy about hot med student; one Internet-dating-site date; three carbtastic bagels.