Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week: the Disgruntled, Divorced Former Banker Back in School and the Dating Market: 25, male, Queens, straight, single.
DAY ONE
7:45 a.m.: Wake up hard. Of course, all alone in bed. Masturbation, when conscious of it, is not fun. I do it anyway and move on with my day.
10:30 a.m.: Send good-morning text to my friend with benefits, or as I like to call us, Two Adults Being Adults. My long line of instantly regrettable relationships, along with my marriage at 18 and subsequent divorce, have all led me to this.
3:45 p.m.: Riding the F toward 57th, watch a great body walk right by. She walks from car to car. You see this often on the trains when people are avoiding the smell of piss or a homeless person. Once in a while, though, it is because a woman is avoiding a creepy guy.
3:46 p.m.: Creepy guy enters. A fat, odd-looking black male. He not only follows her from one car to the other, but into another as well. I follow him following her, just in case. Mom raised me well. Nothing happens.
8:34 p.m.: Texting with my Adult Friend. We share a few “I can’t wait to see you again and treat your ass proper” texts.
8:40 p.m.: Get hard and rub one out for old time’s sake.
DAY TWO
10:30 a.m.: Starbucks. I order a grande americano and am offered an extra shot from a cute employee in a horrible uniform. I compliment her on her great shoes, and she chuckles.
12:03 p.m.: Write a few pages toward my writing project, about how love is something or other. A relationship is and always was this empty vessel of an illusion of what we always regret doing. No longer can I be a part of a counterproductive social experiment. Dating: What a con it truly is.
1:45 p.m.: Starbucks. Two orders this time, one for my Adult Friend. Instead of the cute girl, I am greeted by a happy member of the gay crowd, shoes not so nice. Bring a nonfat cappuccino to my friend, and we exchange some quick, sexy, tasty kisses. I yearned for those lips all day. A mutual tease, but it builds character.
8:10 p.m.: Just leaving the place where I rock climb in Brooklyn with a friend from middle school. She is having boyfriend issues. Me being a man with a penis, I make the point that all men want to have sex with the females in their lives. The difference is whether or not we actually act on it. I remind her that I want to have sex with her, but wouldn’t actually pursue it. It’s true.
9:30 p.m.: Drinking together. My jeans are making my Peppy uncomfortable. We talk about the possibility that all the people in the bar are with someone they are cheating on, or they are there cheating on someone.
11:10 p.m.: Masturbation after traffic is still masturbation.
12:45 a.m.: Can’t sleep. Horny and still. Open a bottle of wine. Then another. I have midterms tomorrow, and all I want to do is bang.
DAY THREE
11:10 a.m.: Wake up angry. Cold shower, ready to go.
5:15 p.m.: In class, taking my test. Girl that always sits to the right of me leans over and says good luck. I bet her that I will be finished before her. If I am, she is buying coffee.
5:50 p.m.: Finished. Meet with girl from class, who says she failed.
6:15 p.m.: Coffee becomes Ketel vodka, which becomes hooking up and gentle fondling in my car.
6:18 p.m.: Realizing that my next midterm is in minutes, I give the girl a kiss and run to class.
9:21 p.m.: Home. Horny, speak to Adult Friend and tell her that tomorrow it’s me and her, going out without friends, and staying at a hotel.
11 p.m.: Make a reservation to stay at a hotel downtown for the next day.
DAY FOUR
9:20 a.m.: In traffic, realize that I need condoms. I hate condoms. Is there an I Hate Condoms Facebook page that I can become a fan of?
11:15 a.m.: Text Adult Friend about how I can’t wait to bend her over.
11:16 a.m. In line to buy condoms, realize that I chose the wrong ones. Get off line and walk back to the aisle.
11:16 a.m.: I hate picking out these wretched things. Is it me or does the combination of latex and my penis cause anger? It can’t just be me.
3:15 p.m.: Checked in. Instead of roses on the bed, her favorite candy. Mom would be proud.
7:10 p.m.: Dining together at a small place, hooking up over the table.
8:45 p.m.: In the shower, bodies rubbing. DAMN CONDOMS. Hard as a rock + condoms = angry me.
9:05 p.m.: Sex was tasty, I want more. She is on the top of my list of lays. My Favorite Friend.
11:30 p.m.: Witness an amazing oral performance. Then make my own oral presentation. The imaginary crowd gives us a standing ovation.
DAY FIVE
5 a.m.:- Woken up hard, and for once masturbation is not needed. I am being properly taken care of. Luckily.
12:34 p.m.: Check out. Starbucks. What a great night!
7:20 p.m.: Start early at Brass Monkey. It’s someone’s birthday. He’s a nice guy, but a major cock-blocker.
8:45 p.m.: Notice a bunch of women. Bartender announces that they are having a bachelorette party and asks who is buying drinks. I raise my hand, buy some drinks, and start talking. It’s all easy flirtations and laughs and giggles.
8:53 p.m.: Enter the cock-blocker, Birthday Boy. Makes a fool out of himself, starts lurking over the girls I am talking to. He has no decency.
9:15 p.m.: I tell the girl who seems to be in charge that he has four kids. What an SOB. I paid 80 bucks for drinks for these girls, and was making damned good headway, and he screwed it all up.
10 p.m.: Leave drunk and pass out in cab. I should’ve eaten today.
DAY SIX
9:45 a.m.: No morning wood, just a mild chubby. I think I might be getting some sort of heart disease. I need to go to the doctor — it’s been a while. Isn’t that what they say? That if you don’t wake up with morning wood, it’s a sign of possible heart failure?
12:30 p.m.: Somehow my TV attention gets diverted to Persian porn. Find a good one and take care of business.
4:50 p.m.: Get a text from the ex-wife. And I quote: “ On Austin St with T*****, CUM meet me here.” Ignore.
5:20 p.m.: Text from my climbing buddy. She is also nearby, and wants me to meet her and her friends for margaritas. I just don’t feel like dealing with her today, so I say I’m sick.
5:30 p.m.: She calls me gay and says next time.
6:14 p.m.: Receive text from buddy of mine. I tell him I’m sick. Yes, I lie. It’s a product of my previous profession: banker.
8:20 p.m.: Adult Friend texts me, asking if I am hungry. No longer sick. Smith & Wollensky is overrated. I leave a substantial tip.
10:21 p.m.: Heading back to Queens together. Adult Friend starts blowing me while I drive. She is MY FAVORITE FRIEND. We pull over and finish. I drive her to her home, and we make plans to go shopping the next day.
DAY SEVEN
8:31 a.m.: Wake up pissed off. I slept like crap. Second morning of no woody. I am getting nervous.
8:34 a.m.: Hard-on.
12:22 p.m.: Meet Favorite Friend at Starbucks. Our talking turns into me talking about what has messed up my emotions and heart so much. Conclusion: ME. I think I am jaded, but the kind of jaded that helps you grow as a person. You can’t really say you are in love until you can say you have really been hurt.
3:30 p.m.: At Martha’s Bakery. Cupcakes so good.
5:23 p.m.: Still in Martha’s Bakery. We go to the bathroom, lock the door, and I play her vagina like a violin.
10:23 p.m.: Back home, alone. Sit down with a bottle of wine and get back to work.
TOTALS: One act of hooking up with a fellow student; four acts of masturbation; three acts of fellatio; two acts of cunnilingus; one act of intercourse; one act of purchasing expensive drinks at a bar for no reason.
