Wednesday , January 29 2020
Breaking News
Home / Sexuality / The Fashion Assistant Sharing a Bed With Her Ex

The Fashion Assistant Sharing a Bed With Her Ex

New York’s Sex Diaries series asks anonymous city dwellers to record a week in their sex lives — with comic, tragic, often sexy, and always revealing results.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”19″>This week, a single woman explores her sexuality while her live-in ex is out of town: 25, single, Brooklyn.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pliy6000u3h67j3otxc6y@published” data-word-count=”2″>DAY ONE

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pliz5000v3h67acoo9jx6@published” data-word-count=”115″>10:00 a.m.

By some miracle, my former friend-with-benefits, T, texts me back to make plans for this evening. The last time I saw him was on the night of my first date with N, my ex.

I reached out to T after the long silence to come over and catch up, though we both knew the real intention. I lied and told him that I had alcohol leftover from Thanksgiving so it wouldn’t be so weird that I invited him directly to my house.

He says that I have terrible timing because he’s moving upstate for a while to do an artist’s residency (so hot), but agrees to come over for a bit before packing.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”72″>5:00 p.

m. I just started a new job a few weeks ago.

I work in design at a well-known fashion company and things are still slow, so I’ve been sitting around fantasizing about T all day. Everyone in this office usually leaves work at 5 on Fridays, which is pretty dreamy.

I’m excited to get an extra hour to shower, shave my whole body, and clean the apartment before he comes over.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”196″>7:00 p.

m. T arrives and I’m still so attracted to him.

We met at a bar in Williamsburg on one of the first nights I went out after I moved back to New York from Italy, where I spent my junior year of college. He had so much curly hair, a gorgeous smile, and very soft-looking lips.

He still has all of those things! My friends were dragging me out of the bar so I got his number and ran. I texted him and we saw each other the next night.

I must have been pretty drunk because he said that he didn’t think I would remember him the next day. I could never forget a smile that nice, and years later I still cannot get it out of my head.

We were hooking up for a few years on and off up until the night I met N. We make small talk for about 20 minutes before we start kissing.

He is such a good kisser. We eventually have sex after a ton of foreplay and he makes me squirt three times.

This has never happened before and we’re both totally shocked … and pleased.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”2″>DAY TWO

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”65″>11:30 a.

m. I wake up on the couch because my sheets were too wet from squirting.

I have no obligations today and an entire apartment to myself. (I still live with N until we can figure out the apartment situation, but he’s out of town for the week).

I make coffee, order breakfast, and resolve to stay in pajamas for the rest of the day.  

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”54″>6:30 p.

m. Still in pajamas, still thinking about last night’s fun.

I make plans with my friend E to do yoga and get breakfast tomorrow. I also text L, a recent Tinder match I enjoyed chatting with, and ask her on a date.

We make plans to grab a drink later in the week. 

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”153″>I have always been openly attracted to women, but never really figured out how to pursue them.

I find it impossible to tell how a woman identifies when I go out to bars. The thought of hooking up with a woman for the first time who I met on an app was terrifying.

The idea made me feel like a fraud and I thought I could never go through with it. I was also just scared of going down on someone.

Then I met O through a mutual friend a few days after N and I broke up. She’s the first and only woman I have slept with, and we’ve now been seeing each other consistently for a few months.

Turns out, she tastes fantastic and bringing her to orgasm is an insanely wonderful feeling. I have always been relatively submissive with men, but I feel dominant and beautiful when I’m with her.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43plj9400123h67uzjhk0oy@published” data-word-count=”2″>DAY THREE

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljaj00133h67zit01f4w@published” data-word-count=”57″>12:20 p.m.

This yoga class was supposed to start at 12 but the teacher shows up late because of the weather. He finally shows up and I realize how hot he is.

I should have known: My friend is a regular because of this guy. We have a great, sweaty session and then get some bagels after.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljbv00143h67v57cbojm@published” data-word-count=”109″>9:00 p.m.

Sitting around an empty apartment all weekend has me thinking a lot about what I want in the next phase of my life. A year ago, N and I talked about being engaged by now, which is what I really wanted at the time.

Now, I cannot imagine committing the rest of my entire life to someone. I used to think dating in New York was the absolute worst.

Now I feel like there’s no better place to date than New York. I feel like there are parts of my sexuality that are completely untapped and I would love to learn more about that with other people.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljcz00153h67clyuuk29@published” data-word-count=”2″>DAY FOUR

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43plje500163h6768zdyksm@published” data-word-count=”54″>10:30 a.m.

Work is slow again, which is fine with me. I spend the better part of the morning chugging coffee and looking at apartments.

I’m planning to move into a new apartment by myself in January. The prospect of finally having no roommates is exciting, and I love the hunt despite the stress.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljfb00173h676jvh1f5c@published” data-word-count=”67″>3:00 p.m.

I recently downloaded an app specifically for meeting singles and couples interested in exploring their kinks. I’ve always wanted to have a threesome and now feels like the right time.

I start chatting with a cute couple that I have a lot in common with. We make a plan to get drinks to get to know each other a little better the week before Christmas.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljgj00183h67p3tolc40@published” data-word-count=”36″>5:45 p.m.

I slip out of work a few minutes early. I have to run home to clean my apartment because a broker is showing it to a couple who will potentially take over our lease.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljhu00193h67685zrn0g@published” data-word-count=”79″>7:30 p.m.

I think they really liked the apartment! I head out to view another apartment for myself and fall in love. It has an open layout for the living room and bedroom, but a separate kitchen so I don’t have to put a tv on top of like, my stove.

It also had a backyard for my dog, was below my budget, and close to the subway. First floor, and super sunny.

It checked all of the boxes.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”66″>8:45 p.

m. I left my debit card at a bar last week so I run to my friend E’s house to borrow her card and take out $500 for the apartment deposit.

She’s a saint for putting up with me. I put a deposit down five minutes after another person does so I spend the rest of the evening perfecting my application so they’ll pick me.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljkc001b3h67lyc618la@published” data-word-count=”2″>DAY FIVE

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljll001c3h67jzwvhwc2@published” data-word-count=”71″>8:30 a.m.

I woke up this morning feeling great about the apartment, but nervous for my date with O. I always get anxiety when I am about to see her because I’m afraid of messing things up.

She’s a total package and I really like spending time with her. We haven’t had any conversations about being an exclusive couple, and I’m trying to keep them at bay until I move out.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljmo001d3h671g18j5lk@published” data-word-count=”75″>7:30 p.m.

O rings the bell to my apartment and I try to play it cool. She gives me a perfect kiss on the lips and I immediately relax.

The dinner I made turned out well, and I could tell she was impressed. Then the sex we have is so fun.

I use a vibrator on her for the first time in her life. It’s so hot I have to get her one for Christmas.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljnv001e3h67fajh93vw@published” data-word-count=”39″>11:30 p.m.

We firm up our plans for Saturday night and then she leaves. I get stoned and eat the rest of the pasta.

No regrets. I plan my outfit for my date tomorrow with L and pass out.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljp6001f3h67sxucak6k@published” data-word-count=”2″>DAY SIX

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljqg001g3h67le9h6m5r@published” data-word-count=”76″>2:30 p.m.

I get an unexpected text from T. He’s in town from the residency just for the night and asks if I’ll be around.

I have my date with L, plus I have to stop by a bar on my way home to give my friend her debit card back (thanks again E). I have to decline the offer, but it definitely feels pretty good to know he’s still thinking about the night we had.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljrm001h3h6727syb2lx@published” data-word-count=”72″>4:30 p.m.

N is sending me pictures of potential souvenirs to bring home for me from his vacation. I don’t get back to him right away and he buys me an ugly piece of jewelry, and I’m instantly reminded that he doesn’t know me at all.

I send him a snarky text so that he knows I’m mad at his poor gift choice. Petty, I know.

I can’t wait to move out.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”79″>6:30 p.

m. I meet L at a bar near my office.

She’s gorgeous, interesting and passionate. I love her smile and her loud laugh.

She has long-standing dinner plans with her roommate so we get the check after two glasses. She asks if we can split it, but I decline and pay for the whole thing.

I tell her that I would like to see her again and that she can pick up the bill next time. She accepts.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43plju1001j3h67w8z54b7c@published” data-word-count=”39″>8:30 p.m.

We walk to the subway together arm in arm. We share a kiss and part ways.

I text her something flirty while waiting for the train and she replies immediately. I am blushing the whole ride home.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljvc001k3h67spq7uazl@published” data-word-count=”2″>DAY SEVEN

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljwj001l3h67fww6dsmv@published” data-word-count=”63″>12:00 p.m.

I’m trying to use my sick days before the end of the year, so I have the day off. I wake up late and get started on laundry.

N is coming home tonight and I still have not washed the sheets from my night with T. I text O and we confirm our plans to meet up at a museum later.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pljy7001m3h67iauxq0rh@published” data-word-count=”39″>6:30 p.m.

I’m so happy to see O and she looks so hot. It’s nice to do something with her in public other than sitting at a restaurant.

We’re pretty touchy throughout the night and I’m really feeling it.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”25″>12:45 a.

m. O is staying at her parents’ house tonight because she has a family obligation tomorrow.

We part ways and I go home alone.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.” data-word-count=”69″>1:30 a.

m. N is in bed when I get home.

We still share the bed some nights when he doesn’t want to sleep on the couch. I didn’t miss him but it is nice to feel his warmth.

I feel like I’ll always treasure these last moments of our relationship even if he is terrible at buying gifts. I snuggle up behind him and fall into a peaceful sleep.

<p class="clay-paragraph" data-editable="text" data-uri="www.thecut.

com/_components/clay-paragraph/instances/ck43pkskv00kfi0yecw2ay51a@published” data-word-count=”15″>Want to submit a sex diary? Email and tell us a little about yourself.