Fake Sex Diaries

The Micro-microfamous Blogger in Over His 5’5” Head

Today, the Micro-microfamous Blogger in Over His 5’5” Head: 24, male, San Francisco, questionably heterosexual, average, in an open-yet-serious relationship.


DAY ONE
12:01 a.m.: The date change refreshes the Status message in the three IM windows I have open.  “Away.”  “Asleep.”  Is my dick really average?
12:02 a.m.: I take a sip of $7 shiraz from my coffee mug.  Send an IM to “Away.”  Pass out.
11:15 a.m.: Catch up on email and idly wank.  Twitter something clever about Obama and other clever people on Twitter.  I have been working!
9:45 p.m.: Finish my pack of Saltines.  Hungover but can’t sleep yet.  Wank and watch The Office.  Blog that I am watching The Office.  IM girlfriend that I am watching The Office.
9:48 p.m.: “Away”  is online!  She is drunk already and agrees to another beer, but up in her neighborhood.  Ten minutes until the Next MUNI.  I refresh her Tumblr and remind myself to mention the post she just made about cable cars.
10:00 p.m.:  Still reading her Tumblr.  I miss the bus.  I IM her back saying I’ll take a cab.  Too bad cable car doesn’t run this late, I add.  She’s Idle again.  
10:45 p.m:  In the cab.  Ignore text from girlfriend sent hours ago — “Sondre Lerche next week, yes?” — that I also ignored then.  Text Twitter hookup from blogger meetup.  “Hey, do you like Sondre Lerche?”   
11:00 p.m.: Glad she got here first.  Now I only have to pay for my own PBR.
11:15 p.m.: She interrupts my story about that one time Nick Denton gave me a bump of coke off a key to say she lives around the corner.
11:45 p.m.: I try to shake my dick back from its disappointment for a second round. “Who’s Nick Denton?” she asks and passes out.  


DAY TWO
10:00 a.m.: Check into Brightkite from cafe around the corner from Away-girl’s apartment. “Just fleshed out the first act of my screenplay!”
10:25 a.m.: Text from my girlfriend saying Yay on the screenplay.
6:54 p.m.: File my first story of the day after wanking into my trashcan to a Sasha Grey anal video.  
6:58 p.m.: Girl from OkCupid still hasn’t responded to my message asking if she liked the old Woody Allen video I reblogged from my writer friend in New York.  He’s a writer and he writes for New York magazine but he did not write about me.  Did she like it?
6:59 p.m.: Ask girlfriend on IM if she has plans.  
11:00 p.m.: After she makes us dinner, I fuck girlfriend into her pillows.  She whispers in my ear asking if it was hot with the OkCupid girl (who I actually have not fucked yet) but I don’t say that. Then tells me she loves me and I come and tell her I love her. 
11:15 p.m.: While she’s in the bathroom I check Twitter.  No one is @ing me.  


DAY THREE
8:00 a.m.:  Girlfriend is awake and rubbing my dick with her leg.  I tell her I need to get home and work on my startup and my screenplay and my comedy show and she should know better.
8:15 a.m.:  Notice extra-large condoms mixed in with the regular ones on her bedside table and grab one to see what it’s like.  We fuck sideways and I hold her belly and tell her after she comes that I don’t know how to say it but she seems skinnier.  
9:00 a.m.:  Girlfriend is at work blogging on her laptop and I check into OkCupid on my iPhone from her bed.  Text Away-girl asking if she likes writing across from a boy at a cafe.
9:05 a.m.: Girlfriend says she’s sick of working at home and wants to work from a cafe.  I say I have to get going anyway.  Kiss her and tell her I’ll see her soon.
11:15 a.m.:  Shower, wank into trash to something from Megaerotic.  Head to cafe on my own with my notebook to write sketches for my comedy show which now has 100 subscribers!  On YouTube alone!
1:00 p.m.: Text girl from Casual Encounters hookup, “Hey, is that you at Ritual Roasters?”
9:45 p.m.:  Over drinks, complain to my startup guy friend that I can’t get anything done with my startup. 


DAY FOUR
1:15 a.m.: Drunkpost some shit to Gawker.  Shit shit shit.
3:45 p.m.: Realize I haven’t updated Twitter all day.  A Regina Spektor lyric about falling in love should appease at least three of the girls I’m hoping to see this weekend.  Wank.
7:00 p.m.: Girlfriend asks me if I have dinner plans.  I lecture her over IM about how we can’t see each other every night and anyway I want to spend the evening in, working on my screenplay.  
7:10 p.m.: Facebook message the girls who sent me @ replies after the Regina Spektor Twitter.  
11:30 p.m.: IM girlfriend a video from CollegeHumor so she knows I didn’t go out after all.  Maybe she’ll hear it when she’s fucking the guy — with the dick? — she referenced in her IM Away message?  
11:45 p.m.: IM a tip to Ryan Tate that I didn’t want to give to Pareene.  Wank.  Did I eat today?


DAY FIVE
4:45 p.m.: Rushing after oversleeping to Blogger Happy Hour.  This is the drinking with writers I cleverly referenced on my OkCupid profile, “What do you do on a Friday evening?”  My friends are clever, except when they are not.  
5:30 p.m.:  Girlfriend arrives — she writes for Valleywag, did I not mention that?  She didn’t get her job from fucking me.  This is what she tells everyone.  She arrives alone, which is what I asked.  “It would be very Woody Allen to not have to come and go to every party together.”
5:45 p.m.: Text girl from OkCupid that I am in her neighborhood and when I am done with my Blogger Happy Hour with my writer friends would she like to get a drink?
5:55 p.m.: Flirt with blogger lady with nice hair but I can’t get her to laugh which doesn’t make sense because everyone says I am funnier in person.  

(This is where I need to break and explain that I was plucked, lifted by Nick Denton from my small Christian college to San Francisco to write and then be fired by him and then write for him and again be fired, and I am so grateful for women like this, to drink with and flirt with and feel important beside.  I have fucked nearly 20 of them or women who resemble them at least once.)

6:00 p.m.:  Girlfriend asks how my day was.  Why is she monopolizing me in public like this?
6:10 p.m.:  Girlfriend makes joke about the head I gave her in the bathroom of a bar during some web thing.  Why does she want to own me?
11:10 p.m.:  Leave girlfriend on BART platform.  Tel her I’ll see her tomorrow and ignore iPhone on vibrate in my pocket until I get five feet away.
11:15 p.m.: Log back into IM at home.  Away-girl is awake but ignores me.  Pretty blogger lady doesn’t answer my IM, either.  Too tired and too full of existential confusion to wank.
11:30 p.m.: OkCupid girl is out drunk and only two neighborhoods away!  


DAY SIX
2:05 a.m.: Still can’t get OkCupid girl off.  Imagine Sasha Grey.  Imagine girlfriend sucking my dick.  Imagine Rex Sorgatz.  Rex Sorgatz could get a hipster girl off in three minutes, even while skunk-drunk.
2:25 a.m.:  Come into a normal size Durex and sleep.  
10:00 a.m.:  OkCupid girl spoons me and I check my Twitter.  I’m on Favr’d!  Morning sex!
3:00 p.m.:  Finish brunch with OkCupid girl where we discuss my screenplay.  She wears a hoodie.  
3:05 p.m.:  Girlfriend calls to say I am late for date with my girlfriend.
3:10 p.m.: Text Away-girl that she reminds me of Moe, she knows Moe right, the blogger from Jezebel?
3:45 p.m.: Check Tumblr one last time before heading to girlfriend’s.  
10:00 p.m.:  After-dinner blowjob from girlfriend turns into long, sweet sex I could Twitter about but why make the other girls mad?
11:45 p.m.:  Really hot make-up sex with my girlfriend after she breaks up with me for Twittering with another girl right after the last sex we just had.  
11:55 p.m.: Twitter really hot make-up sex.


DAY SEVEN
10:00 a.m.: Girl I Twittered with last night has sent six text messages in the night, all containing URL’s.
11:15 a.m.:  Drink too much coffee at brunch with girlfriend.  Twitchy because I can’t figure out how to check the URL’s without her noticing.  Tell her it’s the screenplay.  It’s overtaken my thoughts.
1:00 p.m.: Get online and check the URL’s.  Well.  At least she used my whole name when she called me out on Tumblr.  At least everyone reblogged that part, too.
1:15 p.m.: IM Rex for help but he’s in Montauk with Julia Allison or something.  Wank.
3:00 p.m.:  Girlfriend IM’s to ask if it’s okay if she Facebook breaks up with me.  My dick is really average, right?
4:00 p.m.: Girlfriend disappears from IM.  Why does it always have to be about her? 
4:45 p.m.: At least I have like 50 new Followers now.
7:00 p.m.: Or maybe Balk will write about me.  I Facebook message Away-girl to share this insight.
7:05 p.m.: Away-girl blocks me.
7:06 p.m.: Away-girl blogs about me. That’s not fair.  I only texted her every other day.
7:10 p.m.: Drink.  Wank.  Reblog.


TOTAL: 7 self-induced orgasms, 2 blowjobs (one actual and one referenced), 6 acts of intercourse, 3 partners (2 bloggers), and 1 Favrd Twitter update.

The Pseudo-Fameball Oversharer in a “Secret” Relationship

DAY ONE
12:30 a.m.: After a tremendously dull networking event, I head over to my favorite NoLita imbibery, Sweet and Vicious. I Twitter my intentions, with the hope that a certain someone sees it and meets me there.
1:00 a.m.: The person I wanted to see my Twitter obviously didn’t, but two of my barely legal followers did. One of them is kind of chunky, but her friend is tolerably cute. The chunky one has lapped me on margaritas twice now, but I keep my eye on the prize.
1:45 a.m.: After ably convincing the chunky one she’s too drunk and needs to go home, I whisk the cute one into a cab and down to my apartment overlooking Ground Zero.
2 a.m.: I momentarily panic, having completely forgotten her name.
2:15 a.m.: Still can’t remember, but at this point it probably doesn’t matter. She’s pretty wasted, and the slobbery blowjob reinforces this fact. I can’t tell if she gives bad head because she’s 22, or because she’s blacked out. 
2:45 a.m.: Realizing this girl will never be able to get me off with her mouth, I whip out a condom from my blazer pocket. I’m promptly shut down, and thereby resort to jerking myself off into her mouth.
3:00 a.m.: Tell her I have an early VC meeting and she needs to leave. Give her $20 for a cab ride home.
3:10 a.m.: Twitter something clever about blowjobs to make that certain someone from earlier jealous. See, we’re not really in a relationship. Or rather, we don’t let people know we’re in a relationship, since we’re both pretty high profile online personas. I have over 1,600 followers on Twitter, and she writes for a very well known liberal internet newspaper. The blogosphere would go crazy if they knew about us.
3:15 a.m.: Nicole. The 22 year old was named Nicole, I think.
12:15 p.m.: Wake up and Twitter something cute @Nicole, just to further confuse her when I don’t answer her texts for the rest of the week. Back to sleep.
10:00 p.m.: Thinking about masturbating, but wind up falling asleep before I can even get my laptop out. I feel old for being too tired to jerk off.

DAY TWO
3:20 p.m.: Plan on getting dinner later with the secret lady, and I rub one out to clear the pipes for later. Twitter something about how excited I am, both literally and figuratively.
5:00 p.m.: Dinner is uneventful, she goes on and on about how her boss is so demanding. I inevitably wind up fantasizing about her boss, who is a rich, powerful Grecian blogger, and could totally support my goal of never having a real job again.
7:00 p.m.: Back to her apartment, where things get hot and heavy early. Unlike last night’s encounter, this woman is a fair bit older, but her experience shows and I enjoy every second. I don’t normally like sober sex (or have it at all, for that matter), but with her, it’s incredible. She just knows what she’s doing, and I don’t get that with the girls I typically sleep with.
9:30 p.m.: She wants to go for second round and I happily oblige. My only complaint is her proclivity for being on top…she’s a bit of a feminist, and it shows in the bedroom. I don’t think she’s ever blown me, come to think of it.
11:00 p.m.: I’m spent, but before passing out I Twitter an anti-semetic feminist joke, just to piss her off a bit. She playfully smacks me for my smarmy comment and I fall asleep next to her.

DAY THREE
9:00 a.m.: ARGH! I hate waking up before noon, and even her offer of morning sex can’t rouse me. She leaves for work pissed at me, and of course now I can’t get back to sleep. Today is going to suck, and I Twitter that.
6:30 p.m.: Feeling better after napping all afternoon, I head over to a Tumblr Meet Up. Tumblr Meet Ups are surprisingly awesome, since the guy/girl ratio is far better than any other tech party (besides the iVillage parties, but I’m not allowed at those anymore).  
7:00 p.m.: The regulars are here, plus a new circle of cute girls. I swear to god, these Tumblrettes are duplicating.
9:10 p.m.: Already drunk, and playing spin the bottle with 6 twenty-something girls. I feel like I’m back at UND, except I never really did this stuff back then. I Twitter about how cool Tumblr is.
10:45 p.m.: Besides a few makeout sessions during spin the bottle, I don’t think anyone is coming home with me tonight. I ignore a text from my pseudo-girlfriend; need to keep on the offensive a bit.
11:30 p.m.: Back home, jerking off to some YouPorn. I always feel kind of awkward getting off with Ground Zero behind me, but I’ve done worse.
11:45 p.m.: Finally respond to *her* text that I promise to see her tomorrow. 

DAY FOUR
6:00 p.m.: Realize I’m supposed to speak on a panel about blogs or some shit tonight at the W. Fucking Web 2.0 conferences. Not really sure what it’s about, but these things are all the same. Awkwardly, she’s on the same panel. Practice my trademark kissy face for the inevitable photo-ops later.
9:00 p.m.: Panel went fine, though we were sitting next to each other and caressing each other’s legs throughout the majority of it. No way are we going to make it back to the apartment.
9:30 p.m.: Knew it. She drags me into the bathroom at the W Hotel bar and locks the stall. At moments like these, I wish she wasn’t morally opposed to blowjobs.
9:45 p.m.: I love a mindblowing quickie. We sneak out of the bathroom one at a time, but I’m paranoid one of Nick Denton’s spies spotted us. I Twitter something about my paranoia.
10:30 p.m.: Back at her apartment, we go at it again.
11:15 p.m.: Pillow talk, she suggests taking our relationship public, and I get pretty snippy towards her. I’m way too old to get serious…if that were to happen, engagement would be inevitable. I tell her this, but she somehow turns it into me being presumptuous. I roll over and stop responding to her.

DAY FIVE   
10:45 a.m.: She doesn’t even bother to wake me up, and I’m alone in her apartment. I decide to go through her laptop email, but can’t crack her password. I Twitter something about passwords.
10:30 p.m.: Masturbating over Ground Zero, again. That’ll be the title of my memoir one day. I Twitter that I’ve figured out the title for my memoir.

DAY SIX
2:00 p.m.: Gawker writes something about me and my secret relationship. Fuck fuck fuck.
5:45 p.m.: Pick out one of my favorite blazers for dinner at the girl’s.
7:45 p.m.: Meal is just so-so, Jews are awful cooks. She looks amazing though and it more than makes up for her shitty culinary skills.
8:00 p.m.: We start making out heavily in the kitchen, and she whispers that she has a surprise for me in the bedroom. That’s all I need to hear.
8:05 p.m.: Oh my god, she’s actually blowing me! Like The Dark Knight, the actual execution is somewhat disappointing. Better than most, but still not what I expected. She doesn’t swallow, and instead runs to the bathroom to spit. What is this, high school? I Twitter that while she brushes her teeth.
8:45 p.m.: Time to reciprocate, something I happen to excel in. I wish women gave head like I give face.
9:00 p.m.: After 3 concurrent orgasms on her part, it’s time to get down.
10:15 p.m.: Totally spent, time for bed.

DAY SEVEN
10:30 a.m.: I break my rule about waking up before noon for some morning glory.
11:10 a.m.: The best part about morning sex is that I’m usually only half awake for it. As a result, I often have dreams while doing it. Today I dreamt I was at Bloghaus banging John Carney’s wife. Just kidding, but I Twitter that because I find it uproarious.
1:15 p.m.: Went to Sunday brunch; ran into John Carney and his wife. Awkward, and yes, I Twitter that too.
3:00 p.m.: Back to her place = afternoon delight! Alas, I can’t get the Starland Vocal Band song out of my head the entire time. I debate Twittering the lyrics, but decide to hold back for once.
7:40 p.m.: Back home, making plans to meet up with some of the Tumblrettes from the spin the bottle debacle.
11:55 p.m.: Fuck. Fell asleep, missed Mad Men, and have 4 text messages from Tumblrettes. I’m getting way too old for this shit. Twittered. 

TOTAL: 1 act of cunnilingus, 2 self-induced orgasms (never forget), 2 subpar blowjobs, 6 acts of intercourse, 0 Tumblrettes banged, 14 Twitters.