Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Guy on a Post-Breakup Trip to Asia: male, 27 years old, Park Slope, straight.
6:07 a.m.: Packing. Running on three hours’ sleep, I watch the sun rise over Manhattan. Mind wanders to yesterday’s hookup with Raquelle, who is absolutely out of her mind, but I admire her for her creative and very forward attempts to gain entry to my bed.
7:30 a.m.: Roommate emerges from his bedroom with pseudo-girlfriend. I never hear them having sex, but I imagine they must. As we leave for the airport, they share an old-married-couple kiss and I think about my ex. Specifically, about the very large post-breakup fight we had last week, which ended with me telling her to never talk to me again. Really mature. Heart sinks.
8:08 a.m.: Receive thoughtful text from Potential Keeper wishing me a safe trip. Ponder appropriate response.
12:17 p.m.: Opt for short noncommittal phone call to PK, on the grounds that (a) texts are easily misread, (b) are impersonal, and (c) calling allows me to inject humor into the discourse and control the length of the conversation (less time to say the wrong thing). I also want to appear different from what I imagine her other suitors are: namely rich and boring.
12:45 p.m.: Stuck in Newark Airport with roommate, praying we make our connecting flight to Asia. While in line to get food, see cute girl with sunglasses and very ample breasts in front of me. Brief sex fantasy involving creative use of the counter yields awkward high-school boner (i.e. requires use of a book or bag to hide from plain view).
5:17 p.m.: The in-flight movie is The Blind Side, and I seem to be the only person who hasn’t seen it. I alternate between being turned off by the obvious racial overtones and being turned on by Sandra Bullock, who I imagine is an incredible lay.
5:35 p.m.: Arrive in Japan. The first thing I notice is how incredibly quiet it is here. Checking into the hotel, I contemplate whether it’s okay to apologize for terrible things said during post-breakup arguments. Decide to buy an e-book on getting over heartbreak instead, and hide said book from public knowledge. Fall asleep masturbating, but am too tired to finish.
8:19 a.m.: Wake up with the lights still on, fully clothed. Mind drifts to the Ex. Heart sinks.
8:23 a.m.: Memories of last date with PK arrive. As I imagine what our first night together will be like, long fart from roommate entering from his room interrupts sex fantasy in which her heels are wrapped around my neck. I make up my mind to drop Raquelle, and take things uncharacteristically slow with PK. I don’t want this to be a rebound.
9:22 a.m.: Hotel breakfast with roommate. He gets visibly upset when I suggest he’s serious with PG, but makes no effort to deny it, either.
11:16 a.m.: Spot my first cute Japanese girl who is trimming a patch of grass outside a gift shop with a pair of scissors. She smiles coyly as I take a picture.
1:07 p.m.: The temples here are breathtaking. At one overlooking the Pacific Ocean, I pay 100 yen to light a prayer candle that I use to send goodwill to the Ex and her family.
2:11 p.m.: While on an impromptu hike, stumble upon a mother and four kids playing on hillside. It is nauseatingly idyllic, more so because I realize at this moment that I wouldn’t mind being a father. Decide to start drinking more on this trip.
7 p.m.: Find gift-shop girl, clumsily invite her to drinks, but she says she has to get up early in the morning in broken English. Strike.
4:03 a.m.: Wake up in cold sweat after the following nightmare: I am getting road head from my Ex on our way up the coast, and I pull over on a deserted exit and bend her over the hood of our rental car. However, when I go to return to the car, she is having sex with some other faceless guy. Make up mind to actively pursue a hookup with a Japanese girl.
10:05 a.m.: Project Active Flirting beings, in which my primary weapons are my camera and the word shasin (“picture”). No woman is safe. Remind myself to learn Japanese, stay in shape, and return later. Note: girls in the countryside, though less well-dressed, are cuter.
11:16 a.m.: Meet some guys at a medieval castle, who are being escorted around by Yumi, a cute English-speaking girl. She flirts with her eyes, and I imagine tying her up and eating her out while she has a blindfold on.
3:06 p.m.: At a public bath, I emerge from the showers and realize uncomfortably that some of the Japanese men are staring at my dick. I fluff it up for a public show.
Midnight: We are without reservations for tonight, and all the hotels close by are booked. Wandering around, we are offered help by an old woman who says she can offer a place to stay, but then adds that it is full of “beautiful girls.” I consider, but my roommate refuses outright, proving once again that he’s in love with PG.
12:25 a.m.: Find an expensive hotel that is so small that my roommate has to climb over my bed to get to the bathroom. Consider again sending apology to Ex, but decide to sleep on it first.
10:13 a.m.: Wake up late with severe sinking feeling in chest. Cry in the shower. Send Ex a short three-sentence e-mail apologizing for cruelty during last argument and for making her cry. Nothing fancy, and as I send it I am confident in it until I notice a typo. Don’t expect a response.
1:03 p.m.: Wandering through a part of the city famous for its electronics, though all the prices are extremely high. The highlight of the afternoon is being beckoned into a shop by a girl wearing a French-maid outfit. The outfit doesn’t do it for me, but I appreciate the effort.
11:23 p.m.: Night out on the town. Nigerians in cheap suits accost us from all angles promising tits. A lone woman, older, offers us at least five massages. We decide instead on a club off the beaten path, the one that looks the classiest. It is not. Hairy foreign men in cheap suits grope horny Japanese girls and get into shoving matches. Do a circle of the club looking for an attractive mark, but without avail. Pound drinks.
1 a.m.: My roommate detaches himself from my hip and announces that he’s going home. I decide that I’m going to make the most of an uneventful night, and I start dancing to whatever is on like it’s the greatest song ever.
2 a.m.: Eventually the crowd thins, and she emerges. N is cute and a little bit shy. We dance a little bit and she’s very touchy. Feeling the drinks, I go in for the kiss.
4 a.m.: Still making out with N.N asks me where I’m staying. She runs her hand to my crotch. I tell her, then think of my roommate asleep on the double bed a foot away. I suggest her place. She balks, saying she’s got a friend staying with her. We make out some more. I finger her, pressing rhythmically against her clitoris until I feel her shudder and her breath quicken.
5:30 a.m.: The club closes and I take N’s number, though I know I probably won’t see her again. I have a dumb smile on my face all the way home. Get home and masturbate twice. Sleep like a baby.
10:30 a.m.: While at breakfast I read about something in Japan that they call a love hotel: short-term, high-end hotels where Japanese couples go to “relax.” I think that there must be a reason that I didn’t have this information sooner. Try to call N. Wrong number, though I can’t be sure that I even took it down right.
12:46 p.m.: Check e-mail before leaving for the airport. Find an e-mail from Raquelle entitled “thinking of you” and a response from the Ex thanking me for my apology, and wishing me the best.
Midnight:I respond to neither e-mail, choosing instead to sleep all the way home.
9:50 p.m.: Back. Receive a text from PK welcoming me back home. Set a date for Thursday.
10 p.m.: Try to envision a scenario in which I don’t accept if she invites me to her place. Can’t. Do push-ups. Fantasize about entering her from behind. Sleep.
TOTALS: One act of masturbation; one hookup with Japanese club girl; one good cry in the shower; one exhibitionist experience in a Japanese bathhouse.