Once a week, Daily Intel peeks behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Personal Assistant With a Sugar Daddy, in Love With a Military Man in a Relationship: 28, female, Brooklyn, straight.
9:55 a.m.: The ringing phone wakes me up. It’s my Benefactor. We met at a bar when I was 21 — he’s seventeen years my senior. He unexpectedly gave me $100 for lending an ear to his problems. We’ve stayed in touch, and he’s always come through — deposit to my first place, birthday gifts, advice — without me having to ask. We do lunch, dinner, and anything else to avoid doing each other. He was the cat and I was the mouse, always dangling in front of him but always slipping out of his reach, only because he let me.
12:25 p.m.: I can’t help but think of the Benefactor and how we never have actually been intimate. I mean, isn’t that what’s kept it so tempting and beneficial, on and off for the past six years? What if we actually did let this evolve into a physical relationship? No, there are way too many bad outcomes to this scenario: actual sexual chemistry might fizzle; and I would no longer be getting support from a friend, but money from a sugar daddy.
6 p.m.: I would like to meet a man to share my life with that will make me laugh and my toes curl. Sigh. For the past three years, I’ve had a non-relationship with an American soldier because we have never been in the same place at the same time. Last year, in an effort to move on, I became engaged to a diplomat while living abroad, but ended it. Now, both the soldier and I live in New York but I am single and he is not.
11 p.m.: Reviewing Gilles’s goodies in the Sex and the City movie. The way sexy Dante reminded Samantha of how she used to be and what she couldn’t have — seeing the soldier always reminds of the hot sex we used to have AND the happily-ever-after that I want.
12:58 a.m.: IFC channel is playing Body of Evidence. Hot sex on top of a car in a dark parking lot is now definitely on my list. I want sex; I want passion, and make-you-blush escapades with someone special. For now, though, Body of Evidence is as close to passion as I’m getting.
10:58 a.m.: Couldn’t help but give myself a quickie. Sometimes I crave human contact, sweet nothings in my ear, and the climax that comes with it. But since I am determined to avoid flings and haven’t met anyone special, my two hands and the bullet are the only ones that will be giving me a climax for the time being.
1:35 p.m.: There is graffiti of a hanging penis next to two hairy breasts staring at me from the wall on the subway platform. Why would someone take their time to draw that on a wall? Whoever did so must the lamest person.
2:15 p.m.: Got to the job interview late. He hires me. I’m getting that creepy vibe that I usually get when I can feel an old man (as in my parents’ friends) checking me out. Plus, he’s Googled me.
3:13 p.m.: Four different guys try to talk to me in the street on my way to the city. Unfortunately one of them isn’t a tall, sexy chocolate soldier. It s ridiculous how much I miss someone that it turns out I might not even really know. He’s only ever revealed the minimum required to keep me hooked while I let him read me like an open book.
6:42 p.m.: Great dinner at Chef Wu with the Benefactor. He wishes me well on my job search, and mentions he could never spend a whole day working with me when he is always viewing my naked body in his head. It is true that he’s seen me partially naked, but we both showed major restraint to end that moment. Still, it does give me a small thrill to know that the image of my body, even in his head, still has such an effect on him.
7:53 p.m.: Listening to “Touch My Body,” and like everything these days, it makes me think of the tall, dark, and irritating guy that I’m still not over.
1:26 a.m.: When a man old enough to be your father tells you he just wants to devour you, that is not a red-hot compliment, but just eww. They should not let men over a certain age in nightclubs. It s just creepy!
1:50 p.m.: My ex-fiancé felt the need to tell me he still loves me. What am I supposed to do with that?! Why do men feel that they reserve the right to pop in and out of my life whenever they feel like it, even after their stupidity caused the demise of whatever relationship I had with them? My ex-fiancé does it and so does the soldier.
5:44 p.m.: Cute guy on train with gray eyes and a little scruff exits the train, turns to me as he is standing on the platform, and slowly smiles as the doors close. It was actually kind of hot.
11:30 p.m.: I’m at the club and doing my best to mingle. A woman is eyeing me. She asks me to dance as her husband watches. So I oblige and let him enjoy seeing his wife dance with a hot girl. Then they leave, probably etching me into their fantasies. That was actually kind of fun. Sexy and a definite confidence-booster.
11:10 a.m.: Boys must have some nasty programmed in their DNA from birth. My adorable 2-year-old cousin insists on playing with his wee-wee the moment the pull-ups come off. He comes giggling into the living room, wee-wee in hand. We laugh at how innocent it is, but I hope that he doesn’t grow up to let his wee-wee rule him like so many men do.
6:15 p.m.: I get a call from the soldier and play the indifferent card, but only because I care too much. I’m pretty sure he sees right through it. I have to face the fact that he will probably never be willing to be in a real relationship with me. I’m like his joker card that only matters when he needs a fill-in.
8 p.m.: There’s no bigger turn-off than an unkempt, clingy, loudmouth, ignorant drunk. A longtime neighbor who fits that description is in front of my family’s building and insists on hitting on me to the point where everyone is uncomfortable. On the other hand, certain men make family life look so tempting, like my cousin’s husband. Even their squabbles are cute, and when my cousin calls him a jerk, what it really sounds like she is saying is, “I love you.”
12:30 p.m.: Walking hurriedly with my earphones on, but this guy refuses to get a clue and keeps following me and yapping along. Note to all guys: If we have earphones on, most likely it’s because we don’t want to be bothered.
3:40 p.m.: Ran into an acquaintance. I thought meeting him at my cousin’s wedding where he was the date of a family friend made him off-limits, but apparently he doesn’t think so.
4:12 p.m.: I’m thinking about that guy from the wedding and whether I should consider getting back into the dating game. Wonder what it’s like to make out with someone who has braces. I truly don’t think I could ever enjoy or be attracted to that, no matter how much I care for the person.
11:53 p.m.: A call from the soldier gets me back to where I started: wanting him but knowing he’ll probably end up disappointing me yet again. Still, I say yes to meeting him this week, knowing that he probably will never call to confirm. It’s happened so many times before. Yet I still say yes. What is wrong with me?
10:01 a.m.: Got to the boss’s place on time. I start preparing myself to unleash the bitch in case he gets any ideas. He says that he thinks it would be a “French benefit” if we would develop a relationship while working together. Stupid guy doesn’t even know that it’s fringe benefit. So I unleash the prepared bitchiness with steely calm.
11:09 a.m.: I am leaving after collecting an hour’s pay and quitting after he makes it clear he’d like me to work on him as well as with him. I honestly don’t think he was peeing in the bathroom judging by all the grunts. Some men just disgust me. Nothing about his disgusting self would be a benefit of any kind to me. I almost threw up in my mouth.
3:40 p.m.: Spent the afternoon walking with the magic bullet in my purse, but could not find compatible batteries anywhere I went. I’m going to have to upgrade to a toy with accessible energy.
6 p.m. I love the fact that I can share the details of my pervert ex-boss with my girlfriends and cousins, but I wish I had a man to kiss it all away and make having batteries unnecessary.
TOTALS: Two acts of masturbation; one failed search for vibrator batteries; one act of job-quitting owing to sexually inappropriate boss; zero acts of intercourse; countless thoughts of one soldier.