Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Personal Assistant Deciding Whether to Schedule Sex Dates: Female, personal assistant, Carroll Gardens, 29, in a relationship, straight.
9 a.m.: Wake up, kiss boyfriend’s back, get up, make coffee and breakfast.
10 a.m.: Hear BF getting up. I run back in, shove him back on bed and start humping him. I say “It’s been almost two weeks since we’ve fucked!” He says “I know, but you’re always tired!” Me: “What?! You’re always tired!” Him: “We’re both tired.” Me: “How about we fool around every day this week?” Him: “Um, yes!” Me: “Great, tonight it is. 11:00.”
11:30 a.m.: I’m on my laptop working, he’s on his exercise bike. He gets off the bike, throws some eggs in a pan, and walks over to let me know he stinks. I love his boy-odor. He is the first and only man whose body odor I have been turned on by. He shoves his armpit in my face. I take a whiff and say, “So good. But I’m in the middle of work.” And this is usually how it goes — when he is in a flirty-playful mood, I’m busy or vice versa. I hate how real life has gotten in way of our sex life. I wish he could come over, shove his pit in my face, and then we’d fuck on the floor. But I have a deadline I’m trying to meet and he has an omelet that’s burning. We met three years ago (and had sex the first night). We hung out as fuck-buddies for the first few months. It was always dirty and exciting. When we fell into a relationship we promised we’d keep things just as sexy as they were in month one. Ha! “I love yous” were shared and the thrill of “I’m fucking a stranger” is gone. When I moved in a year ago, sex slowly fell lower on the priority list. Bills, jobs, chores, arguments, opposite schedules, and a dog that insists on licking our feet during intercourse have turned our rendezvous into a predictable routine.
12:45 p.m.: BF walks out of bathroom freshly showered and pantless. I decide I don’t want to wait till 11 when my day is done so I chase him into the bedroom as he’s getting ready for work and we have sex for the first time in two weeks. It is amazing and has a pre-living together vibe.
11:50 p.m.: I get home later than I expected and figure since we already had sex this morning I don’t need to adhere to my 11:00 proposition.
12:15 a.m.: I crawl into bed and he joins me. We watch True Blood.
1 a.m.: I roll over to sleep. He spoons me and asks, “Can I stick it in?” I pull down my PJ bottoms and he pumps in and out, more like a massage than hardcore intercourse. I love it. I love just having him inside me, I don’t really care if I come nor does he, we just want to feel connected, and we do. After fifteen minutes, I confess I’m super sleepy. We stop, we kiss some more. This feels nice. Feels like not only having sex but talking about sex made us more connected.
10 a.m.: I sleep later than I planned. I get up to make breakfast and coffee.
10:30 a.m.: I hear him get up. He puts on morning news show we DVR’d, I run back in, strip off my PJs, and jump on him. We make out for a few minutes before I announce I have to hurry up and get to work.
2 p.m.: BF calls. “Want to see a movie tonight? My treat.” I say okay, excited we have a date.
8:45 p.m.: We see Green Lantern. I’m not interested but I go because he really wants to see it. I try to rub his penis outside his pants during the movie but the theatre is too crowded for any naughty business.
10 p.m.: Randomly, during the movie he says in my ear. “You look sexy tonight, baby” and kisses my neck.
12 a.m.: After a long movie and long day, I’m beat. I tell my boyfriend I’m going to bed. He says he’ll be in a minute but ends up lingering on his laptop. I pass out.
8:30 a.m.: I get up and work out. He sleeps. I realize it’s already Wednesday and so far my week of sex has only included two and half sessions. Finding time for sex is harder than I hoped.
1 p.m.: I talk to my friend, who tells me that she and her husband actually write in sex nights on a calendar. I can’t decide if this is smart or sad.
2:45 p.m.: Out of nowhere I get horny on the subway. This is quickly interrupted by a screaming child in the arms of a woman who sits next to me.
7 p.m.: I leave work in a terrible mood because I got some bad news about a project I was working on and just want to eat and cry myself to sleep.
8 p.m.: I get home. BF is working late so I take advantage of the empty apartment to catch up on terrible TV and eat a platter of pasta.
10:15 p.m.: I decide my closet and drawers are a disaster and I must clean them. I go through my lingerie collection wondering why I even bother bother buying corsets and garters when my sexiest times occur when I’m in boxers or a towel. Besides, no one I know (myself included) ever seems to be good at putting on or taking off garter belts anyway.
10:30 p.m.: I consider wearing lingerie to bed so I can surprise my BF when he gets home but I’m out of razors and refuse to look like an actual bear in a teddy.
11:30 p.m.: I fall asleep in shorts and a tank top.
4 a.m.: I feel BF sneak into bed. He kisses my face and snuggles up against me tightly. This is my favorite thing in the world. As long as I have this, I can be okay with the less consistent ripping-off-clothes kinda sex.
8 a.m.: I’m up and still in a bad mood after yesterday’s crap. I bury myself to work and drink coffee too fast.
10 a.m.: He’s up and says in a cute voice, “You were nice to snuggle with last night.” I reply, “You too.”
11:30 a.m.: He leaves for work.
1 p.m.: I quickly masturbate before leaving for work. I’m not really horny, just want to have a release and thought it would be a good stress-reliever for my bad mood. I come quickly and I feel better, like after a jog. I shower.
2 p.m.: I leave for work. I won’t be home till 1 because I have an event tonight and we’re getting up at 6 tomorrow to travel to a friend’s wedding, so no sex tonight either. How do people find the time?!
5:30 p.m.: I talk to another married friend on phone. The topic of sex comes up and ask her how often she and her husband do it. She tells me that her and her husband are so busy they actually schedule it in like a meeting. “You do not schedule in sex,” I say. “Do you? Like on a calendar?” She explains sometimes that’s what they have to do to make sure they make time to be together. I wanted to scoff at this idea but looking at my own relationship, perhaps adding “bang boyfriend” to my iCal is inevitable.
2 a.m. I get home later than I wanted to, event ran long. BF is already asleep in bed. He looks adorable in his tighty-whitey underwear, snuggling the dog. When I crawl in, he trades the dog for me.
7:30 a.m.: On road to drive six hours to the wedding. Sometimes on long car rides I’ll give him road head or we’d pull over for fun gas-station parking-lot sex. But his brother is in the backseat, so our activities are limited to gossip and rotating naps. I keep my hand on his neck, shoulder or arm for most of the ride.
1 p.m.: We check into hotel and nap before rehearsal dinner that night. Hotels make me horny, something about the new space and super crisp, clean sheets gets me going. His brother is in second bed so me grabbing BF’s dick in bed isn’t welcomed. He whispers, “I really want to but my brother … ” I stop and say, “I know, I know. Let’s sneak off somewhere later.” We sleep.
3 p.m.: We all wake up and get ready for the night out.
5 p.m.: Go to rehearsal dinner. BF drinks some wine. I offer to be designated driver and instead get drunk off Italian food and cake.
8:30 p.m.: We are sitting outside the restaurant alone. We make out like teenagers. We look for a spot to sneak off to and have a quickie, but there are no options in sight. We agree when we get back to the hotel we will sneak off somewhere.
11:45 p.m.: We are hanging at a bar after the rehearsal dinner with the wedding party when BF gets a call that his aunt passed away. His mom, who lives near us in Brooklyn, is a wreck. Without hesitation we check out of the hotel and drive back six hours to NYC.
5 a.m.: We arrive at his mom’s house. What a horrible night.
6 a.m.: We go to sleep in his mother’s extra bedroom.
12 p.m.: We get up and help greet family members who are coming to visit. I cook food for his family. BF is really sad.
7 p.m.: We go home and snuggle up on sofa to watch a movie. Sex is not on either of our minds.
10 p.m.: I fall asleep. He stays up to watch more TV. He feels restless.
9 a.m.: Wake up and go to his mom’s house to help with planning services, where visiting family members will stay for week, etc.
3 p.m. Come home. We are exhausted. I am making lunch. Say to BF “This week got weird, huh?” He agrees. I realize that I can’t make plans for us to have sex or set high expectations for what our sex life should be like. He and I are okay with being very active sometimes and less active other times. If we are both happy, why am I questioning it?
9 p.m.: We get home from another long, emotional day. “Would having sex make you feel better?” I ask him. He says, “Normally, yes, but my head is elsewhere.” I reply “Yeah, me too. I love you.” He says, “I love you.”
TOTALS: 5 make-outs; 2 acts of intercourse; 2 penis grabs; 1 act of masturbation; lots of snuggling.
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