New York mag's Daily Intel unfortunately publishes the Sex Diaries of various New Yorkers, which are usually nauseating and packed with way too much information. This week is no different, and everybody's trying to guess who the writer is: "Jewish Carrie: 32, single, Gramercy, editor and blogger, single-as-fuck, straight." Jewish Carrie/blogger leads a strange life: she's seeing someone called "Band Dude" and blogs about sex; her friend accuses her of "turning into Julia Allison."
DAY TWO 9:22 a.m.: Stop at Duane Reade to pick up bottle of Advil and wander by shelf of pregnancy tests. Consider picking one up. My two neuroses: I am constantly convinced that I either have cancer or I am pregnant — neither at the same time. 9:25 a.m.: Find Advil. Skip pregnancy-test purchase. Karma dictates that I will probably get my period the moment I purchase a test. Therefore, a waste of money. 10:55 a.m.: Blog about complications of phone sex with Band Dude. 11:15 a.m.: Friend replies to blog post, "What don't you share with the Internet? You are turning into Julia Allison." 11:52 a.m.: Ahh! Co-worker who I have a crush on is organizing things near my desk. Desperately search for something to say. I come up with, "It smells like beer in here. Do you smell that?" He doesn't. Cringe in horror and text several girlfriends to relay bad interaction with crush. 9:15 p.m.: Text from Band Dude: "Hey lady. How are you on this fine evening?" 11:17 p.m.: I take a pic of my cleavage with my phone and send it to him.