Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Actress and Porn Writer Living With Her Mom: Female, 28, actor/porn-screenplay writer, Upper East Side, single, straight.
DAY ONE
11:00 a.m.: Wake up way later than I’d like. I’ve been having dreams about my two big exes. The last one, J., I dated for a year, the one before that, B., eight years. The ones about B. are always kind of nice and wistful, the ones about J. make me angry. Whenever I’m sort of getting it back together and feeling okay, he turns up and manages to make me feel totally shitty and ruin my week.
11:30 a.m.: Make tea, excited the apartment is empty. I love living with my mom, but most mornings I really like being alone and not talking to anyone.
2:30 p.m.: I run into one of J.’s roommates at an audition. I think about ignoring him, but they call my name and his head shoots up. After I’m done we make small talk for a minute. He goes, “I haven’t seen you since … you know,” and I want to say, “Since your friend totally broke my heart? It has been awhile! What’s up with that?!” I overact how happy I am to see him. I do feel kind of great — he’s gained weight and his skin looks really bad. I might be going through a bad spell, but at least I’ve held it together in the personal-care department.
5 p.m.: Get some writing done and watch Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Sean Bean is a total beast. I’d love to meet a guy I really like instead of ones I feel kind of apathetic about. And it would definitely be a plus if he could totally throw me around and show me what’s what.
1 a.m.: Think about masturbating before bed. Decide against it; I’m too tired. I still feel a little weird about doing it in my mom’s place too. It’s like a no-sex zone for me.
DAY TWO
9 a.m.: Write two treatments for some porn-movie ideas. I send it to my writing partner for feedback, and she asks me if I wrote it so I could star in it. It’s not a bad idea. A classically trained actress doing porn with XXX actors but with “legit” directors and scripts? I seriously consider it, but can I deal with people seeing close-ups of my pussy? It’s a scary thought.
11 a.m.: I’m surprised at how not into anyone I am. I used to be totally boy crazy and have crushes all the time. Now, I couldn’t give a shit. I blame the meds (antidepressants). On one hand, it’s great not to have such out-of-control emotions; on the other, I feel a little flat.
12 p.m.: I walk around after a doctor’s appointment. I think about M., the guy I had a fling with in London. The sex was exactly what I wanted: rough but not scary rough, dirty but not crazy dirty. I was way into it. I really want to call him, or rather, I really want him to call me.
6 p.m.: I get a text from K., this guy from OkCupid. He really likes me and has asked me to be his girlfriend. I don’t respond right away. He’s really sweet, but I’m just not into it. I think it’s because he tries too hard to impress me. I thought that it might be good for me to be with someone so effusive, unlike the moody and withdrawing dudes I’m usually attracted to. But I just can’t do it.
8 p.m.: At a dinner party, my friend L. tells me that she’s still in touch with my ex, B. Turns out that he’s not seeing anyone. I tell her that I’ve been thinking about him a lot and wondering if I made a mistake with him. She says, “What? No! He’s a dog walker. Let it go!” Okay, thanks L. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?
DAY THREE
12:00 p.m.: After a night of Internet sad-shopping, I receive a package from Babeland, a JimmyJane Form Two vibrator. I feel like a dork, trying to hide the package from my mom. I’m almost 30 and I’m hiding stuff from my mom.
2:00 p.m.: Since we’re both home, I watch a movie with my mom. Anytime there’s a sex scene I get totally embarrassed. Like church and state, there is, or should be, a separation of sex and home. Maybe that’s why I’m not into dating right now. The idea of bringing a guy home to my old bedroom is too weird. But I can’t stop thinking about boys. I’m conflicted. For the first time in my adult life I’m not sex obsessed. Well, I
6 p.m.: P. and V. are having an engagement party. Literally all of my close friends are coupled up. Awesome.
12 a.m.: After P. and V.’s engagement party we all go out and I get wasted drunk. I invite K. so I can fake having a boyfriend for the night. V. drives us home, and I insist K. stays over. I go straight to bed, no kissing, no nothing.
DAY FOUR
10 a.m.: I panic a little because I do not want K. here. I don’t want him thinking this means anything or that I want to sleep with him. I don’t want my mom to see him there. He wakes up and is trying to be cute and/or sexy. I make an excuse as to why he needs to leave. I resolve to end it ASAP.
7 p.m.: I meet my friends P. and Q. for dinner and drinks. Q. finds a way to change the subject every five seconds to her boyfriend, S., who might not be such a great guy. I don’t know if I want to hit her or if I feel sorry for her.
11 p.m.: Start writing. I watch some scenes of my two big porno crushes: James Deen and Dane Cross. I think about how I want to write the kind of porn I’d like to see. Would I be in it? Maybe just so I could make out with those two. I bring myself off four times.
DAY FIVE
3 p.m.: A guy on OkCupid I’ve been chatting with asks me, “So how come you are on here if you are a good-looking, working actress? ” Gosh guy, I dunno. Way to go for the $64,000 question. How about we go on a few dates before you make me question my appeal to the opposite sex?
6 p.m.: Meet H. for dinner. He just started dating my friend C. and apparently they’re having some sex issues: He’s too big for her, she’s too restrained during sex and doesn’t give it up enough. My problem is almost the opposite. I was having sex with a guy I really liked, and once he had his hand up my dress he said, “You’re so wet! There’s something wrong with you.” There’s a palpable moment when I think about what it would be like to fuck H. He’s a lot younger than me so it might not be that great, but maybe I could boss him around and make him do whatever I want.
11 p.m.: I got a text from this kid I used to hook up with. He wants to apologize for how things ended between us and asked me out on a real date. Was dubious, but I accepted. On the way home he pushes me up against a wall and we make out. His hands go up my skirt, but I’m having a hard time shaking this mood, so I stop him.
1 a.m.: I’m single for the first time in my life, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Sometimes I love not having to deal with another person’s feelings and baggage and stuff, but I also miss the boyfriend experience. Is there a brothel full of guy whores that do that? There should be. Maybe I’ll open one out of my mom’s office. I think she’d be impressed by my can-do attitude.
DAY SIX
9 a.m.: On set to shoot a sex scene for my new film. It’s my first one, and I’m nervous and excited. The actor playing my boyfriend is super cute and when they take us to the bedroom set and tell us what they want for the scene, we get the giggles. We go over our boundaries, like, don’t touch me here or here, whatever. Turns out neither of us have any. AWESOME.
10:30 a.m.: We get on the bed, position ourselves so we look naked (but we’re really not) and go at it. Later, I look at the footage. We look like a real couple. I love this couple. I want to be in this couple. Unfortunately, this guy has a girlfriend in real life and I don’t play that game. However, if he should get in touch with me later …
5 p.m.: Wrap shooting. Too amped up to go home. Go to Whole Foods. See all the couples shopping for dinner and think hateful thoughts. Think about texting M., but I decide not to. He’s made no moves to contact me, so it’s done, or is he waiting for me? I feel like I was raised by monogamous wolves; how do real people deal with this kind of stuff? I’m so ill prepared. Maybe I should look into an arranged marriage. Are there any boyishly handsome artsy types looking for a cute, smart, funny, hot chick with money in the bank and mad blow-job skills?
7 p.m.: Think about oral sex, specifically blow jobs. God, I love giving blow jobs. I do have a problem receiving oral sex; it gives me the giggles. Or maybe I haven’t had my mind blown with a dude’s oral skills. I’m looking forward to it.
8 p.m.: I text M., and we decide to meet up that night.
11 p.m.: We meet up and talk, I like him, he likes me, we will start hanging out. Yay! I mention that I feel like a creep always texting him if he won’t get back to me. He says he doesn’t mind, it’s not a turnoff or anything. I win! We make out on his stoop. He puts his hands inside my jacket and cups my ass and strokes my back under my shirt. I really want to go upstairs and have nasty, hair-pulling sex, but I surprise myself by going home. Maturity!
DAY SEVEN
10 a.m.: I text M. and he doesn’t get back to me all day. I don’t want to move into anything too fast, but come on, man! Holla back! I hate the idea of “He’s just not that into you.” If that’s true, then be a man and tell me so. What’s the problem? I’m sure this makes me sound like a crazy, but if that’s so then IT’S BOYS THAT MAKE ME CRAZY. I was not born this way! Guys are the worst.
1 p.m.: Last-minute audition. I run into this hot guy I shot a job with last year. I think about giving him “ask me out” telepathic messages, but I think I would ruin him. He seems too clean-cut for me.
3 p.m.: I finally text K. and break it off with him. He’s totally sweet about it, which is a relief but also kind of makes me feel like a heel.
4 p.m.: Resist the urge to shop, cook instead. I make huge pots of soup and tomato sauce and other stuff that will keep for a while. I also scrub down my bathroom, take down the curtains to be cleaned, and change the sheets, cover the furniture on the terrace. I need something to help me get rid of this nervous energy.
12 a.m.: I get some porn spoofs in the mail from my writing partner. Yikes. I watch them for “research,” and I’m surprised at how turned on I get. I rub it out so many times I lose count.
TOTALS: 1 make-out session, 2 acts of masturbation, numerous orgasms, 1 simulation of sex.
