As told to Whimn thecut. Whimn The Sex Diaries series asks anonymous city dwellers to record a week in their sex lives — with comic, tragic, often sexy, and always revealing results.
This week, an insurance associate who makes a date with a married colleague: Day one 4 a. I wake up this ungodly early every weekday. Group text from my boss, with suggestions for how we should be structuring our day. My boss calls 4 a. His wife is a stay-at-home mum to their two kids in a huge house on a river.
I genuinely enjoy my ride to work because I drink very strong coffee and sing for the whole km. I put on my pjs and straighten up the house because AJ, my housekeeper, comes tomorrow. Day two 4 a. I shut off my first alarm and turn on the second one because I was up too late last night doing nothing.
Sitting at my desk. I bet you are scared for Monday. Day three 7 a. I turn on the pretty filter you know the one and snap something quickly in the parking lot. A text from my dad.
The night that his father died, he sent a text. My first memory is walking in on a fight he and my mum were having over a woman named Nicole. They stayed married until I was Along with what I assume to be most women, I bristle at dick pics. He likes the risk or something. I tell him I need one of his face and he sends it. Tall and slim, a Gemini if I had to guess. Obviously popular in high school. Dark hair, dark eyes, ornery smile.
I see a couple of tattoos in the pictures he sends me. Him in the city for a bachelor party. Him driving home from work. Him relaxed on a long couch, sports on the TV in the corner. After he came through with something I needed way ahead of the original deadline, he said I could pay him back with a beer. I said yes and gave him my handle.
And really, I knew exactly what we were doing. He stayed friendly and flirtatious, cycling himself out when he saw I was dating someone, for months. But after a week-long series of newly single selfies, he asked if he could take me on a date. When I tell you I saw every single, slimy, slithering worm in that can, I promise you I did. And I peeled it right open anyway. Two thousand of us were there a few months before, and I did remember. I remembered overhearing someone mention in the city that she spent the entire weekend gambling heavily.
He told me he had never cheated before, but wanted something regular and wanted it with me. He said he had wanted to do this since the first time we met, two years earlier. He also said he had no intention of separating or getting a divorce. I open up Snapchat and take a shot from a slightly higher angle, lying on my belly and with the camera positioned above my face.
Day four 8 a. Someone brought bagels to the office, but I have to be naked on Monday, so I stay out of the lunch room. I just got home. I watch two horror movies and fall asleep on the couch during the third.
Day five 9 a. I think about how good it feels to take an Uber home and go immediately to bed with someone I love. Life is, largely, routine and monotonous. You have to be with someone who makes the boring stuff fun. Day six 10 a. I spend literally all day reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. I am very protective of Sundays. More than a few times I get caught up thinking about tomorrow … 6 p. I think I see his wife in another. I feel discomfort, but not guilt. Incredibly turned on by the idea of someone risking their career and family to have a probably one-time encounter with me … Day seven 7 a.
I make coffee and a mimosa. Has this ever happened to you? I consider that this is probably a karmic warning shot and I should tell him to go home. I skip the orange juice. He feels thinner than he looks. He keeps one hand around my waist and the other in my hair for a couple minutes, slowing down and speeding up. Less tongue and more tongue, until he pulls away softly. Upstairs in my bedroom, we undress ourselves separately and he kisses me again, moving me onto the edge of the bed.
Climbing back onto the bed, he grabs my hips and pulls me towards him, onto him. I inhale deeply and it feels so, so good. He talks more about work and then apologises for talking about work. I lie and say I like listening. Still talking about work. People he thinks are on their way out, people we think are having affairs.
We sit down on two separate couches in the living room. And then he stands up and unbuckles his belt. I start to move, but he laces his fingers through mine, kissing my left ear. A minute later, he pulls my chin toward him and kisses me hard. He moans, but my tongue is in his mouth. I click my lock screen one more time to see his response: