sex diaries

The Writer Who Will Only Stay Awake for the Right Man

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Writer Who Will Only Stay Awake for the Right Man: female, 35, freelance writer, Upper East Side, single, straight.

6:38 a.m.: Masturbate. Lay on bed spread-eagle and bury rabbit vibrator deep between my mahogany thighs. I hate Mondays, but at least this is a good way to start the week.
8:32 a.m.: Morning walk before beginning workday.
6:08 p.m.: Finish writing, texting, Facebook, and surf the Internet.

7:12 p.m.: Read the day’s news online via RSS feed. Order dinner via
9:32 p.m.: Wind down by watching eighties movie Vision Quest on Netflix. Love the guy-on-guy grappling scenes.

7:09 a.m.: Contemplate what it might be like to date a soccer player, diver, or cyclist. They have the best bodies.
8:18 a.m.: Morning walk. Week already feels routine. Eye-fuck hot, sweaty Latino jogger dude who passes me on Second Avenue.
4:46 p.m.: Read text from guy I’ve been going on dates with. Plan to get together on Friday.
6:37 p.m.: Call friend in Nevada to catch up. Tell her I worry the guy I’m seeing might be a bit self-centered and that usually makes for a lousy lover.

4:13 p.m.: Meet up with a guy friend at Museum of Art and Design. He touches my arm a lot while speaking.
4:32 p.m.: He wraps his fingers around my elbow as I enter the museum’s elevator. I pull away.
5:11 p.m.: He says, “That’s what’s so appealing about you” when I tell him I miss the Midwestern pace of life. I smile, then glare.
6:41 p.m.: We have coffee together. He flirts. I fumble while explaining I’m not interested. He keeps flirting. I’m annoyed.

8:21 p.m.: Show up almost half-hour late to a friend’s erotic reading series about people in the sex trade.
9:52 p.m.: Listen to final story about boinking for pay.
10:17 p.m.: Catch bus home and eye-fuck white guy sitting across from me. We exchange numbers.
11:52 p.m.: Have drink with the dude from the bus as he touches my leg under the table at the bar.
12:24 a.m.: We make out at bar, with his fingers near my breasts.
1:12 a.m.: We kiss and I feel that he has an erection. Hot. I think he’s big. Want to go home with him but don’t because I don’t like sleeping with more than one guy. Kissing, flirting, sure. Sleeping with? No.

6:15 p.m.: Meet redhead guy (Ginger Boy) I’ve been seeing at “Doug + Mike Starn on the Roof: Big Bambú” exhibit at the Met.
8:45 p.m.: Walk through Central Park with Ginger Boy.
9:19 p.m.: Catch a cab back to his place.
9:37 p.m.: After foreplay, turn around on Ginger Boy’s mattress so he can fuck me from behind. His uncut, long, narrow penis slams into my cervix. Tell him we have to try something different.
9:42 p.m.: The redhead is really good at giving head. A perfectionist, he’s thorough. He nestles his head in my crotch until I start shivering.
10:03 p.m.: Lay on my back as he positions his pumpkin patch and jackhammers me while shouting. “Fuck, this feels so good. Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck.”
11:52 p.m.: Wake him for seconds by fellating him.

3:08 a.m.: Ginger Boys wakes me for thirds.
3:13 a.m.: Tell him I’m sleepy. He says he’s sleepy, too, but “sleepy is losing battle to horny.”
3:16 a.m.: Thirds.
1:48 p.m.: Brunch with a female friend. Tell her about my night with Mr. Porn Star.
6:12 p.m.: Meet friends at the Standard Biergarten. Check in on Foursquare.
6:16 p.m.: Another guy friend, a brunette, sees update and texts: “Oh, hello.” Invite him to join.
6:42 p.m.: Brown-haired boy arrives.
7:59 p.m.: After beers, I depart for dinner plans with my girlfriends.
9:22 p.m.: I tweet pictures of the meal, “Putting delicious things in my mouth.”
9:32 p.m.: Read text from Brown Hair. “But I have delicious things for your mouth, too!”
11:34 p.m.: Brown Hair texts me address, and I board train to Chelsea, planning to meet him for drinks — and more flirting.

12:16 a.m.: Phone runs out of juice en route. I take 4 train home to charge it.
12:37 a.m.: Arrive home and pass out on my couch. While I am asleep I receive the following on my phone:
12:27 a.m.: Text: “How’s it going”
12:53 a.m.: Voice mail from the Brunette. “You okay. Thought you’d be here by now. See you when you get here.”
1:08 a.m.: Missed call.
1:17 a.m.: Text: “So …… “
1:20 a.m.: Missed call.
1:29 a.m.: Text: “Really?”
1:38 a.m.: Missed call.
1:49 a.m.: Text: “Ok … well I’m making other plans. Hope all is well. Have a good night hun.”
2:39 a.m.: Text: “So yeah …. thanks for making me wait around for a couple hours! :) fun!”

Total: One act of masturbation; one act of fellatio; one act of cunnilingus; three acts of intercourse, various positions.

The Writer Who Will Only Stay Awake for the Right Man