Once a week, Daily Intel looks behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Small-Business Owner With Three STDs: 34, Female, Queens, straight, in a relationship with a man without STDs.
11:30 a.m.: Stirring to wake from a late night working on the website for my start-up. My man’s at his Bronx apartment. We’ve been together for two months now, but were best friends for six years before that. Damn, I want his sex.
3:50 p.m.: I feel a shock surge through my labia. I must be developing HPV warts again. I pray it’s not a herpes outbreak — I don’t think I’ve ever experienced one, but I test positive for both strains of herpes. I got all three STDs from my ex-fiancé’s cheating.
4:30 p.m.: Online. I implore my man for cybersex. He ignores me. He’s trading after hours. I could get annoyed but I don’t. He practically moved into my apartment to be with me, just after I found out about my status. He’s an insanely gutsy guy relying only on his trading for his livelihood. Sometimes I wonder if he’s addicted to risk.
10:37 p.m.: I’m going to bed frustrated. I call this “pink balls.”
8:30 a.m.: The alarm sounds. Snooze. Head to client appointment late.
Noon: We break for lunch. I need the dose of dopamine to the brain that I get from hearing his voice, so I call. We talk about how each other’s day is going.
6:19 p.m.: Horniness overtakes me, but I decide to hold back so I can ravage him if he drops by tomorrow. I’m not having an outbreak so far this week, so I’m bummed he’s not here to sex me. We do not have intercourse when I am in outbreak, as chances for infection increase.
11:30 a.m.: My sexual frustration gets the better of me and we argue on the phone about not having sex.
11:45 a.m.: I go on a dating website to free my mind from the distress. Chat quite innocently with random men.
1 p.m.: On the phone. He curses me out for having gone to a dating website. Yelling through the phone, he sputters that he’s devoted his life to me despite my diseases and how could I do this. He gets so angry because my ex-fiancé still calls, and so the dating website, for him, is another whammy. But I did nothing wrong; just chatted.
3 p.m.: He’s still cursing me out. I walk away from the screaming phone and he doesn’t realize I’m gone. He’s mad because he thinks he owns me. He’ll learn.
5 p.m.: Masturbate. I use my washed bare hands. It’s safer self-sex.
9 a.m.: I call him, but he’s giving me the silent treatment for the whole day. I’m frustrated, but not of the sexual variety this time. He holds a grudge for way too long. I’m happy with our relationship for the most part, except that he needs to learn to trust me.
11:37 p.m.: We’re talking again. He’s lost a lot of money trading this week. His car registration expired, so I pick him up from the Bronx.
1:11 a.m.: Make-up sex! Back home, I rip his shirt off. He plants kisses around my neck, avoiding my lips. He’s been drinking and knows I’ll get mad. I leave it alone for now as I have bigger fish to fry. He puts on a condom and I go down on him. Erect, he flips me into positions known only in Kama Sutra illustrations. Release, finally!
10 a.m.: Run to the supermarket. My car gets dented in the parking lot by a hit-and-run driver. Sucks.
Noon: Drop my man to the Bronx and head to Queens to visit Mama.
2:45 p.m.: We eat a late Mother’s Day lunch in Freeport, Long Island (Nautical Mile). Restaurant charges me $11 for a virgin strawberry daiquiri. How absurd!
5 p.m.: Drop my mom and sister home. My baby sister begs for me to spend the night. I can’t, though, because my mother doesn’t want me sleeping in her home because I have both strains of herpes — which makes zero sense. I’ve learned long ago to emotionally shield myself from her harshness and irrationalities. She is who she is.
7 p.m.: Go to bed early.
10 a.m.: Wake from fantasizing about him. It’s one of those dreams where you know it happened but the details escape you.
11:30 a.m.: Call him. We have phone sex. This past week was odd because we’re usually together 24/7. He doesn’t like that I’m keeping a diary about our sex life, so he’s trying to limit my opportunities for inspiration. Clever, that one!
Noon: Visit porn site. Masturbate to a man eating pussy. My man and I haven’t figured out a way to bring me that pleasure, so instead I enjoy seeing other people go at it.
TOTALS: Two acts of masturbation, one with climax; one act of fellatio with a condom; zero acts of cunnilingus; one act of intercourse; one blowout fight with boyfriend with 24 hours of the silent treatment.