Drunken dialing while stone, cold sober may sound like an anomaly, but I assure you, it does occur. The moments when I’m all alone and wishing I was not and trying to make the best of the situation with my moist fingers or vibrating toy sneak up and take hold. I get it in my head that it’s a good idea to reach out to a lover or friend to see if he could come over. Maybe we could hang out and drink a few beers? Maybe we could get down and dirty and sinful while acting out our wildest fantasies?
I start with Naughty Cowboy and shoot off a text: Horny girl seeks Cowboy. I wait and wait. Images of past evenings with Naughty Cowboy—his aggressiveness mixed with tenderness, our deep conversations, heated games of Yahtzee until a few hours before dawn—filter through my subconscious as I touch myself more vigorously. As my phone beeps his reply, I’m let down to learn that he’s working. Again.
Who shall I call? Who will help me satisfy this nagging longing that grips my body?
Going down my list of possibilities, I pass over the young, enthusiastic lover who does nothing for me and the out-of-towner who is growing more and more distant. Panther briefly crosses my mind until I mentally cross him out. He has his son with him tonight. He would agree to come over and then leave me hanging. He would fuck me so good I’d want him for the rest of my life.
By the time I figure out that I can email one of my Craigslist guys, I’ve already climaxed and am feeling moderately at peace. The pair of men I bailed on the week before who want to have a three-way seem like the perfect seed to plant and nurture. I write:
Any interest in trying to all hook-up one night this week? Tomorrow would work well for me to host.
As I lay back down in bed, I imagine how excited D-Low and his friend will be to hear from me again. Thoughts about how we will meet for the first time, get to know each other, and then (ultimately) come back to my place—take hold and get me hot all over again. After an hour or so of checking my phone every few minutes while masturbating, it dawns on me that it’s the middle of the night by now and I’ll probably just hear from D-Low in the morning. After all, wasn’t he just as excited as I was for our three-way action?
When I check my phone at the crack of dawn and find no new message from D-Low, I’m disappointed but not entirely surprised. Wouldn’t he need to check with his friend to see if we are a go? Maybe he isn’t even up yet. The day wears on with me growing more and more aware of how much I really want this three-way to happen alongside the realization that it probably will not.
Of course, there are some seemingly plausible reasons why D-Low ignored my email last night:
1. His phone died / was lost / stolen / eaten by a dog and he desperately wants to get a hold of me but simply cannot.
2. He was ambushed by supermodels while out eating chicken wings. They threw him in the back of a mini-van, tied him up, had their way with him, and dumped him by the side of the road.
3. He pulled an all-nighter playing Mass Effect 3 and hasn’t come down off of his adrenalin high.
4. Monday Night Football.
5. His Great Aunt June came over and kept his hands busy while he held the yarn as she knitted him a new sweater while entertaining him with stories about her pet ferret.
6. He wanted to touch base with me, he really did, but he woke up with a really big zit on his face / feeling all bloated / bad hair.
7. He woke up in jail.
8. The toilet overflowed, and he had to tear apart the whole bathroom to try and figure out how to fix the damn thing.
9. His roommate hogged the shower for a whole hour and made D-Low completely distracted and out of sorts.
10. His girlfriend dragged him into the shower and made D-Low completely distracted and out of sorts.
While in reality, D-Low probably didn’t email me back because he isn’t interested in having a three-way anymore, it’s a fun diversion imagining him in jail or being blown by Heidi Klum. I hate it that I lost the opportunity to entertain D-Low and his friend—and maybe, just maybe there’s still an inkling of a chance—but there’s always tonight and the endless supply of cockshots available for me to peruse on Craigslist.
I think this time I’ll get started early.