Sex Diaries, this week’s choice quotes
Amazing diary this week. Love it/Hate it.
Today, the Loner Guy Trying Not to Be a Loner: 27, male, Times Square, straight, single, unemployed.
3 p.m.: Thinking of W. My last relationship that lasted more than a few dates was probably high school. This isn’t to say I never meet girls and hook up, but it’s rare and never anything that I wish to pursue for more than a night. It’s become quite apparent that I need to find a girlfriend. I want someone to spend time with. The last three years I’ve basically been running solo.
8 p.m.: Show started. I ran into two platonic female friends there and join them. W warned me that it wasn’t for sure but said she’d text me and play it by ear. I hate NYC. This never happened in New Hampshire, where I used to work in construction. There was nothing to distract us at the last second. If we made plans, we stuck to them. Since getting here last September, I’ve had people cancel or no-show on me countless times and it’s never done in contempt. Simply how NYC works, but I don’t see myself ever getting used to it.
DAY THREE
10 p.m.: (in NH) We rank the girls in the bar in totally shameless fashion, critiquing every fault, despite acknowledging our many physical and psychological failures. We both talk big games but make zero attempt at picking up girls. We pretend it’s because we’re from out of town and it’s a waste of time. The ability to justify every failure and be continuously single go hand in hand.DAY FOUR
8 p.m.: Back in NYC. W from Thursday is working at the theater. We exchange some pleasantries, and she doesn’t even mention missing the show. Would a girl who likes a boy ever completely ignore him on a hang-out situation? No, but I refuse to admit I have no chance.
10 p.m.: My two friends and I go to a quiet bar afterward and I’m inundated by girl talk. They discuss how the cute one has fallen in love with her old boyfriend and has been having sex with him all week despite being on her period. This destroys my plans to attempt to hit on her.
2 a.m.: A girl that I have zero sexual interest in is being pretty blunt over text about wanting to hook up. Such is my life. I really, really don’t want to masturbate tonight.
2:30 a.m.: Fantastic time. I hate myself.DAY FIVE
7 p.m.: Had an improv class with W. Class went badly.
10 p.m.: The class goes out for drinks after. W joins us, and on the way there I backhandedly ask W out. I ask if she wants to see Bombardo, a popular independent improv troupe, this weekend. She says she’s busy and doesn’t know who they are.
11 p.m.: W is being receptive to one of the other men in class. He’s making her laugh and she’s calling him adorable. He’s discussing his failure with women. She says that a lack of confidence conveyed when asking a girl out attracts her. Up to this point I have worked very hard at seeming confident and not a loser. This news seems bad.
11:20 p.m.: She’s grazing his hand.
11:45 p.m.: W and I leave to take the 1 train together. She’s crossing her legs away from me, and not being very receptive to the conversation. At 42nd Street she asks if this is my stop. It isn’t, but I get the message.
12:15 a.m.: This is probably the most work I’ve put into asking a girl out in a long time, and it was an epic failure. The worst part is that the guy she was so receptive to is the same height as me and looks old and isn’t in good shape. I continually use my height (five foot six) as the reason why no girls will go out with me. It’s apparent that I was shot down for me and nothing else. I really, really liked this girl. I was confident that we could have a strong relationship, more so than any other girl I’ve met. I failed. Horribly.
3 a.m.: Still stings. I simply don’t know how to “close” on a relationship, either platonic or romantic.DAY SIX
10 p.m.: It’s becoming more and more apparent that I only signed up for this class because I had a thing for the teacher during the open house.DAY SEVEN
5 p.m.: W just texted me asking me, yet again, where our improv group is meeting. So her cell phone does work.
