Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week: the Asset Management Guy and His Flirty Hand: 28, West Village, straight, in a relationship .
7:32 a.m.: The crappy workweek begins with me receiving world-class fellatio from my girlfriend. And then I realize that my living nightmare is true, and it really is Monday morning.
12:07 p.m.: Recalling last night, when the completion of my fantasy-football draft led not only to the realization that I drafted a ridiculous team, but also to very hot foreplay and sex with the girlfriend, who achieved multiple orgasms. I was let off the hook for ignoring my woman during the draft.
8:15 p.m.: Having dinner at Carnegie Deli with my girlfriend, her mom, and my mom, who is visiting from out of town. Somehow the table discussion among the women turns into giving birth, cutting the perineum, and C-sections. I’m about to projectile vomit.
10 p.m.: Still disgusted from the table talk and uncomfortably full from dinner of hot pastrami and corned beef. No way sex is going to go down.
10:15 p.m.: I lotion my girlfriend’s breasts in exchange for a good fifteen minutes’ worth of good old-fashioned ball scratching while we watch Gran Torino. Blissful.
7:46 a.m.: We make up for last night and have some solid morning sex. I wish every day started with morning sex. It’s far better than coffee and a bagel.
12:45 p.m.: Trying to figure out a sex schedule. I have to go home to Chicago on Friday for a wedding in which I wasn’t invited plus one, and my girlfriend will be in Long Island starting Thursday. Hello, hand.
7 p.m.: The cold chill as I leave my office building serves as a harsh reminder that the women of NYC are once again replacing cleavage-generous blouses for turtleneck sweaters. Most women will be losing one or two points on the base-ten scale.
10:16 p.m.: I’m sleeping alone tonight so I break out the laptop and check out the new videos on pornhub.com to pleasure myself.
7:50 a.m.: I realize that I’m letting morning wood go to waste. A bit of tear hits my eye.
12:30 p.m.: It is obvious that New York has some of the most beautiful women. I notice quite a few on my way to lunch.
4:15 p.m.: The realization that I will not be getting any from Thursday to Sunday is setting in.
10:06 p.m.: I return to my bedroom from brushing my teeth and find my girlfriend wearing the slutty sex outfit we bought on vacation together. We subsequently attempt to make up for our impending separation from one another.
7:50 a.m.: I planned to have morning sex with my girlfriend, but I woke up and am too tired. This is one time where my mind will not overcome my cock’s fatigue.
11 a.m.: My girlfriend calls me from the train, telling me how much she wanted to be together this weekend. My penis and I are now sad.
11 p.m.: I hit up all my favorite porn sites. Masturbating is really more enjoyable when it’s not a daily activity.
1:27 p.m.: I read a story on Fox News that Mila Kunis is preparing for a steamy sex scene with Natalie Portman. Go-go-gadget boner.
4 p.m.: Stuck in a middle seat for my flight to Chicago. My only prayer is that two hot chicks sit next to me.
4:05 p.m.: Prayer not answered.
11:54 p.m.: Laying in bed, I contemplate rubbing one out. I’m pretty tired and feel rather awkward about masturbating in my dad’s condo. I end up just passing out while thinking about sex.
10:20 a.m.: I’m horny and just can’t help myself. I start flirting with my hand, which leads to a tawdry sexual encounter.
4:45 p.m.: My buddy, whose place I plan on crashing at after the wedding, warns me against rubbing one out in his shower. Plan B is then effectively foiled.
6 p.m.: At wedding BBQ. Quite a few couples there and I get frustrated that my girlfriend isn’t with me, considering she would probably allow me to maybe sneak off to a bedroom for some fooling around.
10:20 p.m.: My sole goal at this point is to continue drinking. I really don’t even entertain the thought of flirting with girls, especially since in my condition my flirting would come off as either sad or creepy.
11 a.m.: I go with a couple friends to the brunch spot I used to go to every weekend before I moved to New York. The female manager there is trying to lure my buddy into sleeping with her. When I lived in Chicago she was trying to bang me too. So he surprises her by bringing me along. Works.
4:04 p.m.: I notice a particularly attractive woman in the airport security line. It gets me horny. I’m always horny in airports.
8:15 p.m.: Pick up girlfriend in a cab on the way home from the airport.
8:25 p.m.: Apartment. Within three minutes, clothes are off, lube is open, and my sexual frustration is alleviated. My penis and I are finally at peace.
TOTALS: Three acts of masturbation; one act of lazy couch petting with girlfriend; three acts of intercourse; one act of drinking way through wedding.