Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Female Student Discovering the Thrill of Ex Sex: female, student/intern, 21, Crown Heights, straight, single.
8 a.m.: I wake up and think about the talk I had with my Ex the night before. It’s Spring Break, and he said he wants to see me. As many times as we’ve broken up, I know this time it’s actually permanent and am hesitant to get sucked back in. I have plans that night with a guy friend and a lot of his very attractive, very single friends. I shower and groom meticulously, then put on cute, matching underwear. I make sure to grab my sunglasses and a hair tie in case I need to make the long walk of shame home from Harlem to my place the next morning.
3:30 p.m.: I flirt with the guy who works down the hall from me. I definitely think he’s flirting back, but other times he’s a complete asshole. I’m hesitant to make a move as he’s much older, and sometimes I get the vibe that he thinks of me as a child. Then again, I have always wanted a secret office hookup, and this is the perfect time for it.
5 p.m.: Text from the Grad Student asking if I want to hang out that night. I tell him I have plans, and he says we’ll “talk soon.” He’s a guy who I’ve worked with on campus and is what one would describe as “good on paper, ” but not exactly oozing sex appeal. I’ve always had a little thing for him, and he finally asked me out last week. We had a good time, and he kissed me before the night was over. I didn’t think he had the balls, honestly, and it makes me wonder if I underestimated him.
11:30 p.m.: The group I’m with all go to school together and are letting loose after finishing a week of tests. We arrive at the club and are slightly drunk already. My friend introduces me to an older guy who has apparently made the rounds of women from their school but has a great body. There’s something about a guy who could literally throw me around and fuck me that makes me let him buy me a drink.
11:35 p.m.: Ripped Guy is shoved aside by his creepy roommate, the Investment Banker. Both are getting weird, talking shit about the other in some bizarre proving-of-manliness thing that I find grossly unattractive.
12 a.m.: I say I’m going to the bathroom and instead crawl through the crowd to the door. I run down the stairs, grab my jacket, and am out. I text my friend, telling him I’ll call him tomorrow. When I left, he was grinding against someone I’m sure he’ll regret in the morning, and I don’t want to interrupt.
1 a.m.: As I walk to the train, I stop on the steps of a church to text the Teacher. He’s a guy I met last year and have hung out with a few times but have nothing in common with and want to hook up with solely because he has a great body and what looks like quite a bulge, though bulges can be deceiving.
1:10 a.m.: He texts me back telling me to meet him downtown.
1:20 a.m.: I get to the train and decide to bail, partly from being tired, partly from just not wanting to deal tonight. I text the Teacher and tell him I’m heading home, but to let me know when he’s back in the area.
2:30 a.m.: I drunk-text the Ex, then pass out.
6:30 a.m.: I wake up to a text from the Teacher, sent hours ago letting me know he’s by my place. I contemplate replying with an apology for never getting back to him, but decide I really don’t care enough to bother.
9 a.m.: My Ex replies to my drunken text from last night saying he wants to see me this week. He once told me he wouldn’t sleep with me if we weren’t together, because he cares too much about me and it’s more than just sex with us. I’m thinking if I do see him, I would really like to get some. In the few weeks before we broke up, the sex got more and more amazing, and I miss it. Sometimes I wonder if the only reason I miss him is because I miss his penis, and then think that that probably gives a good insight into what our relationship was like.
2 p.m.: Pass out for an afternoon nap. I wake myself up in the middle of a sex dream, involving only me and my vibrator. I reach down and touch myself and make myself come within a minute. The fact that my sex dreams don’t have people in them anymore worries me. I think about starting therapy.
6 p.m.: Getting ready for a night out with the girls. After last night’s disaster, I have no expectations, but groom and get ready anyway. I am oddly horny and pull out my vibrator before I leave to meet my friends. It takes me awhile to come, and when I finally do, I feel unsatisfied.
11 p.m.: At a bar in the East Village. I text the Teacher to meet up and immediately regret it.
12:45 a.m.: The Teacher shows up with his very cute roommate, who I like (not in a sexual way) so much more than him. I had thought that the Teacher was just kind of dumb, but it’s becoming more obvious that really, he is just incredibly boring.
1 a.m.: We move to a new bar, and the Teacher spills a beer on me. He drunkenly wipes himself off and leaves me to mop up myself. I decide he’s not worth it just as he puts his hand up my dress and starts to kiss me.
2:30 a.m.: The Teacher grabs a cab back to Brooklyn with my roommate and me. I can tell he’s looking for an invite up, but after the beer and the boringness, I’m not feeling it. He grabs my head and shoves his tongue inside my mouth, reaching his hand up my dress again, rubbing my clit through my tights. I’m not wearing underwear, and it feels pretty great, but I’m not nearly drunk enough to succumb to the temptation.
2:45 a.m.: Get into my apartment and resist the urge to text the Ex. Fall asleep fantasizing about him.
10 a.m.: Wake up hung over and respond to a text from the Teacher asking me to hang out later that day. His reply to my denial is slightly bitchy, and I think good riddance, I won’t have to dodge him or pretend I’m interested again.
3:30 p.m.: My Ex texts me and we make plans for a few days from now. I want to but don’t at the same time. Start thinking of the great sex we’ve had in the past and wonder if I even want to go there. I think about how we had started experimenting with me fingering his ass while we fucked. I get horny thinking about it and grab my vibrator. I come quickly after watching some gay porn. I usually watch lesbian but wanted to see if guy-on-guy would get to me in the same way. It doesn’t, but it still does the job.
8 p.m.: I drink a bottle of wine with my roommate and start to feel good about the whole situation. After the whole breakup, I’ve felt bipolar about it, sometimes being thrilled at the prospect of being single and dating, sometimes missing my Ex horribly and wondering if I’ve made a mistake. Cheap wine from Trader Joe’s always helps though.
10:30 a.m.: First real day of spring break! Wake up after dreaming about my boss fucking me from behind in his office. I come just from the dream, without having to even touch myself, something that happens to me kind of often and that my Ex found to be really strange.
1 p.m.: I plant myself at a café with a coffee at a table positioned to check out all the guys coming in and out while I wait for a friend in Williamsburg.
1:35 p.m.: My friend arrives and so does a very cute, almost surely straight guy who sits across the room from us while he waits for his order. We make eye contact a few times, and I blush. I have the worst blushing problem, and it always gives me away.
2 p.m.: A huge foreign man drinking a very small bottle of Orangina sits down, blocking my view. I remember my friend calling me a pussy for not speaking to the cute Norwegian guy at a bar this weekend, and I try to build up the courage to say hi, but he leaves before I get it, and I regret my lack of initiative.
10:30 a.m.: At work, walk by the executive’s office and am reminded of his flirtiness when we were in the elevator together a few days before. Think about the upcoming work functions I know he’ll be at and make a mental note to wear something that gets his attention.
8:30 p.m.: I go to dinner with some friends, and while out I get a text from the Teacher asking me to come meet him. I’m seriously confused as I thought it was clear I wasn’t interested, and ignore his text.
10:30 p.m.: I confirm plans with my Ex for the next day. I know we’ll either end up having sex and a great time, or we’ll fight and stop speaking for a few weeks. I decide I’m fine with either scenario.
12:30 p.m.: The Ex gets to my place and looks amazing. Within minutes, we’re going at it on the couch.
1 p.m.: He takes off all my clothes and starts going down on me. My clit is so sensitive, and I get wetter than I ever remember being. He starts rubbing my clit with his dick, and it’s driving me crazy. We have sex hard, then slowly and sensually.
1:30 p.m.: He flips me over onto my stomach and holds my lower back down, my favorite position.
1:45 p.m.: He fingers me, and I come almost instantly. I almost never come during sex, but he always finishes me after.
10:30 p.m.: We get home after spending the day together, and we have yet another talk about us. I tell him I need space and we need to move on and this can’t keep happening. I fall asleep with him wrapped around me.
7:30 a.m.: I wake up with the Ex pressed against me. He starts to kiss my back.
8 a.m.: We fool around for a while, before he has to get up and get ready for work. He kisses me good-bye, and it really seems like good-bye. I fall back asleep.
10 a.m.: I get home and cancel my plans with the Grad Student so I can spend the day being depressed and watching Sex and the City.
9:30 p.m.: I get home from yoga and text the Ex, despite my resistance all day not to.
11:30 p.m.: He gets to my place, and we move to my room, where we are having sex within approximately 30 seconds. It’s slow and passionate, and we both come.
12:30 a.m.: We watch a movie and drink some wine. We both have work in the morning, and I know that the next day I’ll tell him again it’s over and probably not see him again for a few months.
2 a.m.: We go to my bed and read for a while before falling asleep. Sometimes our routine reminds me of an old married couple, and weirdly enough, despite my extreme distaste for tradition and commitment, it doesn’t bother me.
TOTALS: two acts of ex sex ending with amazing orgasms, three acts of masturbation, one canceled date, many fantasies.
Would you like to take part in the glorious tradition that is the New York Magazine sex diaries? Just send an e-mail to firstname.lastname@example.org with your contact information and why you think you’d make a good diarist. If you’ve got what it takes, we’ll be in touch!