sex diaries

The Woman Getting Flown Out for a One-Night Stand

Photo-Illustration: Marylu Herrera

This week, an unemployed woman spends a romantic weekend with a new crush: 27, single, Los Angeles.

DAY ONE 

9 a.m. I wake up thinking: I can’t believe it’s happening. Tomorrow, I’m flying from L.A. to Seattle to spend a weekend with a guy I met once.

11 a.m. Finally roll out of bed. Extremely grateful I can sleep in, and that I have the flexibility to take this trip! I’m unemployed right now, and am happier than ever. Six months ago, I quit my job as an assistant at a major talent agency — 60-plus hours a week for minimum wage. I couldn’t take a pee break without returning to a million voice-mails. It was just like The Devil Wears Prada, minus the glamor.

1 p.m. At coffee with my friend, trying to explain to her why I’m catching a flight to meet this guy. Here’s the deal: I met R in a hotel bar in West Hollywood about five months ago. He’s 25, lives in Seattle, and was traveling with his friend. He’s not my usual type — blue eyes, wavy golden hair. Happy. I typically go for gloomy, dark-haired, dark-eyed Slytherin types.

Anyway, R and I had a cutesy one-night stand, and I assumed I’d never see him again, but we randomly messaged on Instagram a few months ago and kept in touch. A few weeks back, we were on the phone, and he asked me to visit him in Seattle. He said he’d get me a ticket. I thought he was joking, but a few hours later I had a JetBlue ticket in my email. I decided to go — R and I had a real connection, and I have friends and family in Seattle.

3:00 p.m. Spend a few hours watching TV and trying to pack.

8:30 p.m. Lazing about thinking about the last guy who offered to fly me out. We met in Vegas when I was 22 and he was 31. We hooked up but nothing really happened after that. Now he’s married to someone who looks just like me except prettier and more put-together. They live in New York with their two babies and dog. I follow their life on my fake account and I’m very happy for them (no sarcasm).

10:00 p.m. Bed! Want to be fresh for my flight tomorrow.

DAY TWO 

9:55 a.m. Last-minute packing. I do everything last minute.

1:40 p.m. Land in Seattle and text R that I’m here. He says he’s 40 minutes away — stuck in traffic. Perfect. I dip into the airport bathroom to lint-roll myself smooth and apply a full face of fresh make-up. I’m in a tiny black cropped tank, black leggings, and an oversize vintage leather jacket.

2:10 p.m. I spend a moment spiraling — what if R has gained weight or lost his hair and I won’t be attracted to him?

2:15 p.m. R texts that he’s arrived. I spot him in the parking lot — he’s beaming and looks gorgeous! I throw my arms around his neck and we hug and he kisses my cheek.

2:30 p.m. We’re in his car and he’s driving and we’re squealing and laughing and catching up. He jokes: “I can’t believe you’re here — I met you once! Who are you!?!” I laugh and tell him something about him made me instantly trust him the first night we met.

3:15 p.m. We get to R’s house, which is 30 minutes outside of the city. His pitbull puppy, Cairo, yelps at me in greeting. He carries my luggage to his bedroom, and I shut the door behind us. All of a sudden his hands are all over me. I fall back on his bed and he’s on top of me. We’re making out, ready to eat each other alive, but his roommate, S, knocks on the door, and asks if we want to go to a nearby lake.

3:50 p.m. We laugh as we get into the car with his S, who drives. I feel this wild, swelling, sexual tension between R and me.

5:00 p.m. R and I walk around the lake hand in hand. S has drifted away to meet some other friends. R and I start making out — he covers my face in kisses and tells me how happy he is that I’m here.

7:30 p.m. Back home. R and I get ready for the night. We’re going to a friend’s place for dinner and then going out. R helps me pick my outfit— a strapless top and black leather pants.

7:55 p.m. I’m frantically applying final touches of makeup, and R comes up behind me. He whispers “You look beautiful” in my ear.

8:30 p.m. It’s not just a dinner — it’s a Shabbat dinner. This kind of surprises me — I didn’t even realize R was religious because he has tattoos. It’s fun, though, everyone is super-nice. We mix drinks and smoke cigarettes; the boys wear paper towels on their heads in place of yarmulkes. Before we eat, R reads a passage from the Torah. I’ve never done this before, but I love new experiences!

11 p.m. We’re at a night club in downtown Seattle to see a German house duo. I’m in my element; I’m hanging with R’s friends and having a great time.

11:30 p.m. We all start taking shots.

3 a.m. We got way too drunk. I never get this drunk! Five minutes away from R’s house, I throw up in the Uber. Oh God, I’m so embarrassed. R is worried about me, but I don’t want him to see my splotchy face. I run to the bathroom and get cleaned up as soon as we get home.

DAY THREE 

9 a.m. The memory of last night is faint. We stumbled in and started having sex but R said I was too drunk and stopped things. I know he’s right, but I’m very sensitive and I feel rejected.

10 a.m. We’re extremely hungover. We cook breakfast and revive ourselves.

11 a.m. R and I decide to go on a hike, just the two of us.

2 p.m. Nice hike in the woods — very Twilight.

5:30 p.m. Back home. We have a coffee and cigarette on the porch. Then, before you know it, R is carrying me to his room. He’s HARD. I tell him I’m still spotting from my period, and he reaches for a condom. We start having sex, but I’m a bit turned off by the condom thing. We definitely didn’t use one last night. A real man isn’t scared of a little bit of blood!

8 p.m. We’re out at dinner in a sleek, trendy sushi restaurant in downtown Seattle. We’re on the same side of the plush booth. He’s got one arm draped over me; the other is sliding up and down my thigh. We talk about everything — our past, our travels. He pays for dinner; I pay for parking. We slink out two hours later, exhausted.

11 p.m. I change into black lace lingerie. R is in bed already and the lights are out. I climb on top of him. We’re both almost asleep, but I feel him rock hard under me. With very little warning he slaps some lotion on his dick, flips me over on my tummy, and thuds himself inside me — raw. It’s my favorite position — doing nothing.

DAY FOUR 

11 a.m. I wake up and R is not here — I remember that he’s at work. I’m excited to see Z, my friend from college, for lunch and my sister and cousin for drinks later.

12:45 p.m. Lunch with Z at a Thai place in Bellevue. She’s getting engaged soon. She has two cats named Jasper and Butter. I’m so happy for her!

5:00 p.m. Meet up with my little sister and my cousin for drinks. My sister just bagged a fancy consulting internship, and my cousin works at Google. Did I mention I’m unemployed?

8:00 p.m. Back at R’s place but no one’s home. I hop in the shower. When I get out I hear him calling my name. He comes into the bathroom looking amazing — his face is all tanned and flushed and his smile is glowing. I think to myself if we ever really dated, it’d be difficult to stay mad at him since he’s so hot!

11 p.m. We don’t have sex tonight. Instead, we talk for hours. R tells me his secrets, his fears, his dreams. I share, too. I usually don’t share this much with guys, especially at the beginning, but it feels easy with him.

1 a.m. R is asleep since he works tomorrow but I’m wide awake with my head on his chest. This is probably the last time I’ll see him. It makes me so sad. I know in my heart this is special.

3 a.m. Why am I awake!? I surrender and swallow half a Xanax.

DAY FIVE 

11:45 a.m. Just woke up. R is calling me. He says he wants to take me to the airport if he can.

2 p.m. The dog and I go on an adventure. We get coffee at a local spot, then go to a beautiful green park to explore. Wow. This time last year, I was wearing four-inch heels and a cheap blazer, sitting under fluorescent lights, shackled to my desk.

5:15 p.m. R is still stuck at work. He tells me he’s sad he can’t say good-bye to me and offers to pay for my Uber. I text: “No worries! I had the best time with you.” He responds right away: “Me too, I’m going to miss you. A lot.”

5:30 p.m. I sob underneath my sunglasses the entire way to the airport.

8:50 p.m. Land in L.A. It’s hot as hell, and all I can hear are beeps and honks and curses in every direction. Yeah … I’m back.

8:55 p.m. R calls me but the service is bad so we hang up.

DAY SIX 

10 a.m. I open a dating app and flip through some matches. The first guy has a selfie with what appears to be real blood dripping down his face. The second guy has a group photo of six grown men peeing in a meadow, mooning the camera. You can’t make this stuff up. I exit the app and go back to sleep.

11 a.m. My friend invites me to a yoga class, but I decline. Yoga makes me anxious. If I’m going to exercise, I want something that causes a burning pain in my chest.

1:00 p.m. Watch some TV and take a nap. I miss R.

5 p.m. Drag myself to the gym. I run on the treadmill. Nothing compares to turning up this machine and pounding away until you can’t take it anymore!

DAY SEVEN 

10 a.m. Time to apply for jobs. What am I trained to do? Manage someone’s calendar and answer their phone?

10:30 a.m. Spiraling. I’m not qualified for any of these jobs. I wish I majored in computer science.

11:30 a.m. Still browsing LinkedIn and other platforms, and nothing looks remotely appealing. I made a Care.com profile. I love kids, and I think I’d be an excellent nanny!

1 p.m. Make myself some lunch and rewatch One Tree Hill for the fourth time. Living the dream!

8 p.m. R FaceTimes me. It’s unexpected, and we talk for about an hour. He brings up coming to visit me here in L.A. I’m not sure — I had a really nice weekend, and I’m grateful and I’ll always remember it. I say so, but he keeps talking about catching a flight to see me. Well, maybe our story isn’t over…

The Sex Diaries column, which began in 2007, is the basis of a new docuseries on HBO.

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The Woman Getting Flown Out for a One-Night Stand