Dating 8 Girls at Once in New York City
ft. Amy, Isabel, Morgan, Jessica, Sunny, Jenna, Malia, and Celine
I’m not a handsome guy. I don’t have big muscles. I have no money at all, I have an old van with a bed in it and a blog on the internet.
But girls keep reaching out to me, and I keep meeting them. i can’t…stop… so here is everything that has happened in the past month in New York City:
April 7th, 2025
Edison, NJ
A police man woke me up last night, knocking on the van, shining a light inside. I was parked in a quiet dark lot outside the University football stadium. I almost didn’t open up but then I did.
He said SIR PLEASE OPEN UP THE WINDOW SO WE CAN TALK and I said alright alright… yeah just let me put some pants on… yes i’m a homeless freak i know...
I opened up and He said “Wow.”
I start all these interactions the same way: all right i’ll move. i know, not supposed to be here, yes sir, okay,
And I listen to their whole spiel about “trespassing” and “this is university property” and blah blah blah, yeah I know Mario I gotta move, I will start the van and drive to a different place.
He questions me about my life, & where i’m going, half out of Officer-ly-duty and half, I suspect, out of genuine curiosity: what is this mid 20s white guy doing sleeping in this van with a bed in it in this University parking lot on a Sunday night here in New Jersey?
“Are you a student?”
no…
“Well what are you doing here?”
I didn’t say all this to him, but here’s the truth:
I’m on a journey around the US in this van, I write a blog about it, I’m publishing a book too, but I am here in [redacted], New Jersey specifically because there is a really hot Virgin Asian Girl with a real penchant for the literary stylings of the Worst Boyfriend Ever, and we’ve been talking since February, back when I was in Texas, and now I’m all the way here in April and I’m finally about to meet her.
These pigs always get a little uncomfortable at the sight of me, the inside of my van looks like a really small bedroom, they can feel that they’re intruding on my personal space by opening up, I’m just an innocent-looking white boy, present and calm, it’s funny to see them make sense of the situation.
He actually took my drivers license, which I really didn’t want to give, because for the past 5,000 miles I’ve had a strong inkling that there is a warrant out for my arrest.
For the past 6 months I’ve been racking up parking tickets in all 50 states, I just let them fly off my windshield, I go through every toll bridge without paying, every express lane, I thought there’s got to be a whole litany of legal fees associated with this big blue van here, which are then associated with my drivers license via government tracking internet technology… but nope, apparently not today. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
He walky-talkied a check on the license like I was some kind of criminal and it came back clean. okay great… I was half-expecting to get arrested right there. That greasy Italian retard had no idea who he was dealing with.
He said alright you’re good, you just have to leave the premises because this is University property,
I was like yup yup sure, I know, I was hella sleepy but nothing wakes me up faster than The Law,
He said if I catch you parking overnight on University premises again it won’t be the same, I look at him saying yes yes i understand please just let me drive away i’m fucking tired and I hate new jersey….
I really do hate new jersey. they drive like assholes here. i got cut off by a school bus this morning... Amy you go to college in a ghetto. I see why you want to transfer.
1. Amy
April 8th, 2025
Somerset, New Jersey
Am I grooming her? Kind of… But she loves to be groomed. We had been simulating sex over the phone for the past 6 weeks. Like, here’s how it would go, if I was there with you, hypothetically:
So in real life I met up with her and dry humped her in the back of my van. I tried to put it inside but she wasn’t quite ready.
We drove to Colonial park, in Somerset NJ which turned out to be a big huge beautiful perfect empty parking lot surrounded by creepy East Coast trees. I got some new LED lights in the van just for her.
It was cold and raining outside which I was grateful for because the Florida sun made my last couple hookups a bit too hot and sweaty.
We spent over 4 hours in that parking lot. By the time we came out she was in love with me. We stood outside the van in the cold for a while inhaling the weight of it all, and then we drove to Panera.
April 9th, 2025
Somewhere, NJ
April 10th, 2025
Somewhere Else, NJ
Woke up to this lovely little message from my Ex Girlfriend.
She says one of the girls featured on this blog has a “lawyer friend” who is, Pro Bono, spending her days reading my stories + trying to find the women involved and reaching out to them asking if they would like to be a part of some Class Action Fuck You Lawsuit against me & my beautiful artistic expressions...
and here I am, grooming this girl in New Jersey…
So I went into Panic Mode:
2. Isabel
April 12th, 2025
Philadelphia, PA
Last night I went on a bad date with a girl who didn’t want to fuck me. I’m pretty sure she wanted to be raped in my van, but “pretty sure” isn’t exactly sure enough, because you only get one life and I’d rather not spend it in jail, so nothing really happened.
We met in the pouring rain. I drove 90 minutes from Jersey to Philly because I asked her if she wanted to hang out tonight and she said yes.
She said you can’t fuck me because I’m on my period (XD challenge accepted) but you can sleep at my apartment.
I live in a van, and it’s really cold, so any four walls with heat is good enough for me.
She messaged me on Substack as one of those “this is so fucked up but i’m kind of into it”-girls, the ones I think I can convert, and sometimes I can, especially when they have BPD like this one does, but I keep learning with these types that they’re just never ever worth it.
It was impossible to make her laugh— I am the funniest human on planet earth currently but she was a pit of despair…
She was a cute-ish tall-ish nose-ringed Mexican (?) girl wearing a thin crop top and loww slut jeans, which made me angry because I just wanted to fuck her all night long and she was too stupid to understand how much she would’ve loved to feel me inside.
I asked her if she touched herself to my work and she couldn’t say no. I spoke passionately about my project as I always do while she couldn’t tell me what she’s going to eat for breakfast tomorrow. She realized this as she was talking to me—that she didn’t know what she wanted, as many women tend to do. And from there I can tell them what to want or I can be a good person and just keep asking questions.
She was too brainwashed by College to laugh. At anything… Everything is Institutionalized Racism, all her friends are getting “hate crimed,” bitch What are you talking about? You said you’re making a film? You’re making something? Great let’s focus on that, I don’t know about you but I try to focus on the things I can control, it makes my life a lot less miserable.
The vast majority of girls I’ve met on here so far cannot be hurt by words. I will say the most racist shit I can, to their face and they blush and laugh. And then they try to hurt me back. With words. We play… The only purpose of words is to inspire laughter, to play. Everything else is bullshit.
These college bitches all think they’re “lesbians” now because their education has turned them against men. They love school and they hate thought. They love being told what to do. Their professors are their masters. Lets check my book sales.
171 orders processed in 3 days, what a wonderful world, everything’s gonna be alright.
OKAY Isabel didn’t want to fuck me, so I immediately went into my DMs and planned a date for the very next night with a girl who did:
in New York City:
3. Morgan
April 13th, 2025
Manhattan
Last night I met another troubled gal from Substack and she took me to one of the most expensive/exclusive clubs in NYC. She used to work there so we cut the whole line, got in for free, went up to VIP, and watched a very interesting burlesque show.
She introduced me to a lot of scary wealthy demons who were mostly frightened by my autistic energy. I became dramatically less autistic over the course of the night as she fed me drinks and cocaine. By 2 AM I was grabbing her neck in the back of a taxi cab choking her as hard as I could. She took a selfie. People treat you real nice when they love your blog.
She spoke very fast when we first met and I was afraid because she was physically stunning. She wore this weird leather designer shirt with square coverings over her breasts and this short black skirt so that her perfect stripper legs were fully exposed. She had the complexion of an olive-tanned Italian, like my father.
We went up to her Upper West Side apartment immediately, she didn’t even care to see the van, we just walked up to meet her little toy dog and have a quick “I’m-Not-a-Serial-Killer”-type chat before we went out to see The Box.
It’s NYC, so the building was kind of old and dilapidated, a hole in the wall like every place is here, but inside it was hot and loud and everyone was wealthy.
Morgan led me around like a dog at first introducing me to her friends and grabbing me free drinks and we watched the sickest cabaret, what those people were doing on stage was unexplainable… there was prob-fake-but-extremely believable human shit involved… the tastes of the ruling class are truly perverted & strange…
I was getting a little too affected by the Ketamine we sniffed together in the bathroom and groping her rather embarrassingly in the presence of her entire social network so she got us a taxi home.
She’s not a dumb girl. But she is a somewhat lost. She has built this lovely little life for herself but she doesn’t know what to do with it. Or she just has no good person to share it with.
She works as a stripper. She doesn’t identify as a stripper but that’s how she makes money. Or at least how she last did. She also makes money as a sugar baby. And doing Bottle Service.
She’s not a prostitute, she doesn’t fuck them, but she is a kind of softcore sex worker, and maybe she likes me so much ‘cause I’m a kind of a softcore sex worker too.
Morgan was probably objectively1 the hottest girl I’ve fucked so far. I wasn’t getting hard at first but then she gave me a professional lap dance and that did the trick. She’s…good at her job. My dick took a sec ‘cause we had been doing a lot of coke and ketamine all night, and drinking… and I took adderall to stay awake, this was no average night…
I like Morgan (23) but I have nothing For her. I know what I want and she doesn’t. Half of me wants to tell her to just find a man to marry you while you’re still so young and beautiful and the other half of me wants to keep fucking her and cumming inside her with no condom and immediately leaving the premise. This morning in bed she said “I don’t want you to leave…” and it stabbed me in the heart.
…and here I am COMPLAINING about all this…
HERE I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT IT!!!! COMPLAINING ABOUT LIVING THE GREATEST LIFE ON EARTH, ABOUT MY TOTAL FREEDOM ON THIS BEAUTIFUL SUNNY AFTERNOON IN THE GREATEST CITY IN THE WORLD!
I just know… she is now currently sitting in her apartment spiraling back into depression because I came inside her twice and left. Or not… or she’s rejuvenated by the experience and facing the day with exuberance and pride!! No, impossible. All I do is hurt people.
April 17th, 2025
Still in Manhattan
My life used to be so simple:
I am 25. I live in Seattle. with my Girlfriend. I work in Marketing. In my free time I like to Run. I also like Stand up Comedy.
Now I try to answer even the most basic questions about myself, like “Where do you live” and “What do you do” and I have to ask all sorts of questions in return…
ok so you know like van life? ok so you know Substack? ok so you know auto-fiction?
ok well all the stories are real but i call them fiction, because they’re so dark and actually i published a book! yes i published a book, just last week actually, and i’ve got 250 sales already it’s pretty great, there, that’s something people understand…
Let’s set aside the growing group of real girls (dozens…) who have been literally and spiritually fucked by me in the past few months and had their stories exposed on the internet and yet new girls keep messaging me every day and i really do live in my fucking van and i actually prefer sleeping there even when it’s cold cause then I don’t have to leave a sad female face in the morning and i’ve been meeting so many people all over the country who enjoy the Show2, um, and
I am turning everyone who once loved me against me, even my parents and sisters, I can’t stop, every time I make a new friend I see them as a new potential victim, I’m playing Jenga with my life, worst case scenario I get banned from Substack and in that situation I don’t know what the hell I would do…
April 20th, 2025
Manhattan
Amy finally let me do it last night. Our long & torturous sexual tug-of-war finally came to an end in the back of the van parked on West 11th Street in lower Manhattan on Sunday April 20th 2025 at 1:48 AM.
I know that was the exact time because after we finished, I pulled out hard and came everywhere in the van except inside her tight little asian pussy, I said the words “i’m sorry for raping you,” and she laughed, and so I recorded that as a note on my phone. That’s what it takes for me to laugh now.
The mission took 34 hours to complete. I picked her up from school in New Jersey on Friday morning and brought her up to the city.
Like an idiot I chewed 80% of a 10mg Cialis tablet and so from the moment she hopped into the van I could think of nothing but sex. She was wearing a big loose white t shirt and tight black spandex shorts and tall black leather boots. She looked like one of those dark alt-KPOP dominatrix sluts.
5 minutes into our cute little date at “Ad Hoc Cafe” I excused myself to the restroom where I stroked my dick until I came so that I could enjoy the rest of our day. The walls were paper-thin, it was an old building. The barista probably heard me doing it.
We had been looking forward to this Friday in NYC all week, despite the fact I have been, quite frankly, drowning in pussy since the day I arrived. I let her go through my phone so she could see.
34 hours later after finally penetrating Amy for the first time and hearing those precious little moans come singing out of her perfect Chinese face I thought about asking her to take a hot pic with my book so I could post it on Twitter so people could Like and Retweet and Etc... so I could Sell More Books… so I could continue to slowly but surely dig my way out of debt poverty & homelessness… but I didn’t do that, ‘cause I know girls hate when you ask for permission, more than anything else in the world.
Since I published the book I’ve been meeting all sorts of beautiful people.
Earlier in the day I was sitting pointlessly at Washington Square Park with my new friend Frankie, an Asian Male who is on the rocks with his own Girlfriend & loves/hates my blog,
he warned me of something called “audience capture” – this theory that for Modern Internet Entertainers the audience really dictates the content, and the audience will demand increasingly extreme forms of entertainment to scratch that itch, and so will you, and so how do you know you won’t go too far to satiate this impossible mob? Neither of us know the answer.
It took a few hours of being with Frankie for me to understand why he was so intent on meeting me:
At 6PM his girlfriend called him angrily on his iPad. He didn’t have a phone.
I said why don’t you have a phone…
He said oh because I got angry and smashed it during a fight with my girlfriend.
I said oh… did you write about it?
He said no, I’ve been writing around it,
and I said Dude if you take anything from all the shit I’ve said today, you need to write about THAT, just write exactly what happened and how you felt, not to share with anyone in particular, just record it for yourself. I swear you will thank yourself later. I hope he did but I doubt it, people need to be forced to change or they just stay the same.
April 20th, 2025
Hackensack, New Jersey
4. Jessica
April 24th, 2025
Columbia University
I was on track to take my second virginity this week. I’m not chasing virgins they’re chasing me. It wasn’t until I was on top of her in the van that I considered: maybe I’m not using these girls… maybe they’re using me.
We met on Broadway Avenue, right across the street from campus, in broad daylight, where all her friends could see.
She was much hotter IRL than she portrayed online. This is often the case with girls who are smart. I told her this and she did something resembling a laugh.
It was a nice day but we went into a bar because I can’t be seen in public.
People might ask questions. Simple questions, to this girl who goes to this school, this girl who is a mere Freshman at Columbia… questions like: Who is this guy? How do you know each other? Whats up? Neither of us wanted to deal with any of that poetry so we stepped down into a dark beer hall to have a little chat.
I handed her a signed copy of my book that said: “I’m sorry for whatever happens to you as a result of meeting me” which made me laugh and is also true.
Secrecy is hot. It’s less hot when you remember that I’m going to write about this and share it on the internet, ‘cause that’s kind of what I do, but in the moment it feels good to imagine that we are sharing this time together, just the two of us, and it’s not any more complicated than that.
I was terrified by her (lovely) face and she likened me to ugly old creep Charles Bukowski. She is now the 3rd girl who loves Bukowski who met me with the intent of losing her virginity in my van.
Jessica goes to Columbia and her dad went to Yale. Where did you go? What was your GPA? How many siblings do you have? None of this shit matters. What do you want from me?
She asks me a lot of questions sussing out whether I come from money and the answer is no on all accounts. I have nothing, had nothing, will never have anything except for what I can force out of my brain and type on a screen. You will gain nothing from being associated with me. I am just a retarded horny clown.
I told myself I wouldn’t fuck her, I am spiraling—she caught me on a bad week3. But she’s wearing these tall leather stripper boots and an incredibly short jean skirt and a big black belt…I can’t remember what color her top was because she had small tits, but her face was enchanting—she looked like Pocahontas with softer features and rounder cheeks.
She was dressed like a hooker but she was one of—if not The smartest girl I’ve met so far. I am still having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that she’s 19. Then again she’s also a writer, and as a fellow writer I know that you can trick people into thinking you’re smarter than you are by being really good at shuffling words around & making people smile. Or maybe I’m just retarded now, because of all the Drugs.
We talked in that pub until we were drunk and then walked across the street onto Columbia’s campus. I saw about 4,000 beautiful 20 year old Asian girls on our 6 minute walk.
Jessica confessed to me, pretty loudly, that she “doesn’t like black guys, or Asians,” there was an Asian guy in a hoodie walking right in front of us. I laughed, I am going to hell. Jessica is smart enough to know that she is Racist and comfy enough to share it with me, especially after the (1) beer we had at 2PM across the street.
We walked into a building and stepped down some stairs into a basement-classroom. Seats packed in like sardines. It had those white fluorescent lights that make you hate your life and it just wasn’t the type of place I feel that anyone could ever learn anything. But it was a Victorian Poetry class, so there was nothing to learn anyway.
The prof looked like tall gay Woody Allen and pontificated on the ironic subtleties of Thomas Hardy’s peculiarly poetic prose for 1h10m while I sat in the back with Jessica watching brain-dead teenagers play with ChatGPT and shop for womens’ clothes on their Macbook Pros.
I started typing really fast in the Notes App4 about how much I wanted to rub my dick on her thighs—it felt unfair to have her so close to me and I’m not allowed to touch her.
I get physical really quickly now, and all the girls identities are starting to morph together in my subconscious, so when I meet them I have to resist the urge to treat each one like my long-time girlfriend who I’ve been handling and petting like a dog for so many good faithful years.
This urge is getting harder & harder to repress, especially when girls like Jessica show up in their stripper clothes (then again all girls dress like that nowadays) and whisper things into my ear in the back of the class and so soon I found myself crossing my legs to hide my erection.
I didn’t retain a single word of the professors’ lecture because I cannot be taught. I can only learn by doing, and living. I have a feeling every other male in that room suffers from a similar condition, and this is why they are fleeing the Universities.
Jessica and I fled the class to go get some food and lay out on the quad. We ran into several of her friends and lied to them about who I was/what I was doing here. Because the way I’m living right now is completely unexplainable to normal people5:
She said I’m a “Family Friend.” I’m White and She’s Asian so that doesn’t exactly line up but most people don’t really care enough to pry. We laid on the grass Just Talking until a couple of her Really Close Friends came by and rudely interrupted.
I retreated into myself, reading my physical copy of Worst Boyfriend Ever and eavesdropping on their conversation about Cute Boys and Ozempic Skinny and the rest of their spoiled ignorant little trust fund lives—
Eventually I had enough, and wanted Jessica alone, so I urged her to come walk with me down the street back to my van. Her friends were a little concerned but I have good guy aura so everything was OK.
She got in the van like all the girls do and said “wow this is actually pretty nice…” and we sat on the bed ‘cause it’s the only place to sit, and I vowed that nothing would happen.
I didn’t want something to happen. Every time I fuck a girl in here I feel like I’m inflicting them with this terribly epic scar, but I can’t stop doing it; I’m so good at it and they make it so easy.
We talk more & gradually I start to touch her. I wrap my hands around her neck and she tells me that it feels pretty good.
By the time I notice she’s wet, she says “I’ve been wet for the past entire hour.” I’m not bragging I swear… Getting good at turning girls on6 is just like getting good at anything else, except it always leads to pain7.
Jessica really liked to be choked. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, revealing her perfect white daddy-bought teeth, and started moaning like she wanted something.
I placed my knee between her legs and she began to grind against me in frustration. She was not going to fuck me—she told me this over iMessage and she told me this again at the pub and she told me this again when we first got in the van. I’m not going to fuck you…
It kind of offends me when girls refer to it that way, like they’re “fucking me” … no, you stupid bitch, I’m fucking you…
It’s not up to you, when we’re in this van, and I’m on top of you and I’m stronger than you physically it really is no longer up to you—not that I would ever do something like that, but sometimes I remember that I could, and when it hits me, I laugh. And she asks me “what’s so funny…” and I say “Rape.”
I did not fuck her. She wasn’t ready. I dry humped her and came into my briefs.
It hurt when she called me funny, it hurt when she called me interesting it hurt when she called me cute, it only felt good when she said she liked reading my work. I hate myself but I love the work. Even when it hurts I love the work, especially when it hurts actually, that’s the only time it ever feels any good.
She told me I should get off Substack and stop seeking instant gratification online. I know she’s right, but if I did that then I wouldn’t get to meet girls like you.
We sat in silence and debriefed. She said this is so crazy and I said this is Wednesday. Yes I know I am repeating myself again and again and again.
5. Sunny
Sunny messaged me today at 9 and we met at 2 in “Mid-Town manhattan,” I barely know what that means but she gives me an intersection-address and I’m there.
I park the van in a hotel loading zone. We do that thing where you meet someone from online and they walk towards you and you’re like: “ok so this is the person. this is how attractive they are. this is how tall they are. we are awkward. this is good” and then we walk to central park. We smoke some weed as we walk. She is nervous to meet me because I am a niche internet micro-celebrity and she is a 19 year old girl who is addicted to weed.
Her first interesting statement is that she recently got kicked out of student housing for attending a protest and being too high. Isn’t that exactly what you’re supposed to do in college? She has helicopter parents but just forcing your kids into a good school isn’t enough—they also need passion. She has never been with a guy in a serious way before but she has had “girlfriends” — lesbian shit isn’t real to me so I just don’t ask about it. She has a nose ring which makes me sad but she’s 19, she’ll get over it.
We sit together on a grassy hill and gradually I start to touch her. Within 1 hour of knowing this person my hand is on her lower back my lips are on her forehead; I am petting her like a silly little dog.
She is not used to men being so forward like this. All the girls are starting to blend together in my subconscious—(wait did I already say that?) so I treat them all as if I own them, physically, like as soon as we meet. It just gets easier and easier. We walk the streets talking about writing drugs & life, get a slice a pizza and some boba tea.
Hundreds of Asian Eyes watch us judgmentally, like they do with all of my victims from online. The hotter the girl the harsher they stare. It gives me a sick little thrill and probably gives the girls nightmares.
I was too horny to be nervous. I was on Cialis. Which is a fine drug, for sure, besides the fact that it makes you retarded. Especially when you mix it with Weed, and you’re with a girl who is 19 and has a pretty nice body, and even her face starts to look pretty great too when you’re in the back of the van with her street parked in a Hotel loading zone in Midtown Manhattan: E 56th St. & Lexington Ave to be exact…you forget she has a nose ring and remember earlier how she said “Plan B is always a thing” and her shapely teenaged ass is feeling a whole lot better than you thought it would upon entry, she hasn’t said a word besides “ooouugh” in several minutes, you almost say some gay shit like “just tell me to stop or i’ll keep going…” but you decide against it, we’re well past words, the window-curtain blinds are engaged but the drivers’ side window is exposed, she likes to be choked but not as much as the last girl, she’s physically twisted so that we’re face to face while fucking her from behind, I’m a big fan of the prone-bone, doggy style never made much sense to me, lightly tonguing her lips and God this is so stupid, all of this, the van is visibly rocking for sure and there’s probly some grizzled hotel concierge outside whose job it is to stand on the street and just go “What the hell is going on in there?!” and quite possibly tap on the window in the next 5 minutes, this is one of the most heavily trafficked intersections in the entire country, I don’t care I’m fucking you anyway because I am an addict–I kept saying this online until it was true, not that I wanted to be like this I just couldn’t help myself, girls love it when you just can’t help yourself,
Sunny I had this awful thought while we were having sex–what is this girl’s name again?
I knew her for 4 hours and then I came inside her.
I was saying things like: “god I wish I could go faster but I’m going to cum, you have such a nice body, you’re so hot, fuuuck” and I really meant it, hopefully she could tell, until I looked at her face softened my expression and just said FUCK IT! FUCK IT FUCK FUCK IT!! And made the conscious retarded decision to CUM INSIDE HER BODY … and she didn’t say a word.
I wiped us off and laid beside her as I typically do.
She asked me what’s your favorite part of sex. I asked her what’s your favorite part of eating pizza. (We got Pizza earlier.) She said “it was warm and our legs were touching and I was with you.” I said that’s my favorite part of sex.
I thought she was trying to trick me into admitting that I’m an addict and that I don’t really enjoy sex at all, I just do it to not feel anxiety & pain any more, but she was not so Machiavellian.
I asked her why she decided to message me today.
Earlier she had no response–”I don’t really know.”
Now she had an answer: “i think about you a lot.”
Broke my fucking heart.
Then we went to a Lit Reading Event at KGB Bar. Asked if I could go up and was called arrogant and presumptuous. Tried to bring the girl in with me but the bouncer actually checked IDs and she was 19 so she couldn’t get in. We parted ways and I sulked faggishly in the back.
I sperg'd out at the reading and probably made a bad impression on everybody and so now the whole scene hates me. The end.
April 29th, 2025
i used to live in Seattle. i used to have a whole entire life before this. i used to have a precious 23 year old girlfriend who would fall asleep on the couch because she couldn’t spend enough time with me.
i used to have her trust completely. she would let me fuck her whenever i’d want and she couldn’t even dream of saying no. not because she was afraid of me but because she loved me.
i used to take pictures of her, obsessively, by the hundreds and thousands, because i could not get enough of her face. to be honest with you i still can’t. still to this day i can’t fully let her go.
i treated her well for two long years and then all at once i became addicted to cheating on her and writing about it and sharing the stories of me cheating on her online.
i thought it would make for a good compelling funny sell-able story and i was right—it did.
but the joke’s on me now, ‘cause whenever i go through my iCloud photos on my phone and see those thousands of pictures i took of her and of Seattle I long for those times when everything was so simple and i had my person and she loved me. even if we had no future, i loved her and she loved me.
love is just a word, that’s what i always say, but i mean it, we were a team. we had each others’ best interest and we were honest with each other—or at least she was honest with me, and at the end of the day i liked to be with her more than I did with anyone else, and that’s a good-enough definition of love to me. for maybe a year of my life i was blissfully happily in love.
May 1st, 2025
Harlem
Everything is Happening All At Once
Beside me an old fat white middle aged man reads the Physical Newspaper. Must be nice…
Here are all the things that have happened so far today:
I woke up in the van at 7:45 AM to see that I had a flat tire. Van wheel was punctured by a physical object, probably something I rolled through in Harlem. Or somebody’s gang-stalking me.
But then I got this message:
Took a video call from this guy ^ currently in Japan who said I could stay at his “$6M spot” in SoHo. Huge apartment with 2 roommates in private bedrooms and rooftop and sauna. Because he likes my blog. Ricky I love you. You are my guardian angel. OK yes of course I will go.
9/10 Big Titty Rich Blonde Girl MALIA From San Diego Messages me:
I was supposed to get a STD test today…
I Asked Morgan for money. She has rich parents she might go for it. She said no but we’re still friends.
The blonde girl who messaged me is really really really fucking hot. I want to suck on her breasts and cum inside her. She loves my blog and I can’t say NO.
But also, I cannot stop thinking about this Email I received yesterday from this adorable quirky Korean girl in Boston, who types like a person I could fall in love with—someone who could make me quit this all:
Today is…Thursday.
But also Jessica (19) wants me to take her virginity on Monday after she’s done with finals. I don’t know if I will have any cum left in my balls by then but I’ll try my best because I live to serve.
I am an insane leech on society, all I do is suck up peoples’ love and use it to complain. I’m recording all this now as a gift to my future self, and to the people who read me, and to Science.
May 2nd, 2025
The $6M Apartment in SoHo
I’m in a new place doing a new thing.
I’m in a huge clean bright spacious apartment in SoHo. Brandon, the roommate, just walked through the kitchen—his presence affects me more than any woman ever could.
The guy who let me stay in here, his name is Ricky. He read a few of my posts, he saw a tweet maybe, and offered me this housing gift for 5 days. A “giving back” for all the couches he slept on during his own post-college adventures. He also broke up with his girlfriend recently and maybe that’s why I resonate… I don’t know.
Ricky is in Japan now, so I have his room all to myself.
I am frazzled—there is a big hot blonde named Malia waiting for me in a hotel room a few miles north. She is visiting NYC and just simply must meet me while she’s here. She messaged me last night wanting to fuck but I was too tired, just having stumbled in here.
There are now 6 recurring female characters running through my brain. I want to take them into that bedroom on the California King… but I should make friends with Brandon first, before that would feel appropriate.
I feel like a psychotic animal as always. He said I could eat anything in the fridge so I ate an orange. I have $800 left in my bank account now and a few hundred in other places. It is honestly quite retarded for me to be thinking about anything but money at this current juncture in my life.
I sent Malia pics of this place. I want to take her inside.
My first interaction with Brandon cannot be: “so can i take girls in here to fuck?” that would be absurd… I don’t think he’s read much of the blog…
He is reminiscent of Sam Altman but much less creepy. He is calm quiet and confident. I am the creepy one.
Books everywhere: Steve Jobs, Benjamin Franklin, Vitalik, Fear and Loathing,
God keeps giving me blessings but what he really needs to give me is money. I can’t ask for money, I need it to just fall out of the sky. I am too proud. There are so many people with money who love my work but I can’t bring myself to ask them for a dime to keep this show on the road. Fuck, all I have is this blog, I have no god damn money.
6. Malia
May 2nd, 2025
Manhattan
1:20 PM
Friday at 1PM. Dead sober. I’m in a dark classy cafe called “cafe flor” waiting for one legitimately Buxom (what does that word even mean) Blonde to show up from her hotel room down the street.
She’s not a hooker she’s a reader. She’s a fan. She’s here in New York in a “super nice hotel” but I can’t go in there because she’s with a man. I’m going to show her this note when she gets here and scare the beejebes out of her—classic move. She said it’s best if we Don’t meet in the lobby. Boyfriend, maybe. I have to know. What am I getting myself into.
Malia will be too hot for me. We’re not looks-matched, at all. I look like a little boy with a tired face. She looks like a Disney teen star aged lightly into her mid 20s with nice large breasts.
Most of the women I’ve done this little dance with over the last month—no, week, have been Asian. Skinny. So I forgot how it feels to embrace a nice big aryan titty. All these nice people surround me typing on their laptops about something that is definitely not this.
Maybe we will walk to the van. Malia please buy me a drink, I can be trusted to drive, I’m a very good driver. I made it this far…
I need to get out of New York, I am going to crash. There’s a lass waiting in Boston who lives alone, perhaps there I could get some peace and quiet and pussy. Pussy pussy pussy, is there anything else for me? Malia I was not ready for you to message me yesterday. But here I am—I live to serve.
4:29 PM
Malia was beautiful hot and sexy. And I felt we had a strong connection. But something was off.
The something that was off was this: within a few minutes of being with me, she said something amounting to “my friends are texting me, and so we’re going to have to cut this short”
… and while this would be a very convenient thing to just come up if she got the ick from being near me immediately… I choose to believe people now, always.
I was sitting on a low couch in a bar/cafe in Chelsea. Apparently Chelsea is a place people in NYC know. I was typing on my laptop about how much I wanted to fuck her and how nervous I was about her arrival.
She walked in through the door wearing a low cut top and short-shorts and silly sunglasses. She’s a Conventionally Attractive blonde white girl with a little meat on her bones and really pretty eyes. She probably gets the really pretty eyes thing often so instead I complimented her on the rosacea splattered across her upper chest. Her lower chest was full of two big soft squishy white girl breasts which it took all my human strength and will-power to stop myself from grabbing right there in public.
She asked me if I had a problem, if the sex addiction was real.
I answered by trying to communicate that somebody just invited me to stay in their apartment, with roommates, and I am feeling perfectly fine about violating their trust and generosity on Day 1 by taking you there, sneaking you in, and fucking you on this guy’s bed.
I wanted to touch her more but there was no point. Our conversation was pretty good, it was fast because she “had to go,” we talked about sex drugs people places and things.
I told her she’s not nervous, most people I meet are so nervous. She took shrooms just yesterday.
She was at least a little bit attracted to me, I know.
She said she travels a lot and I believe her.
I couldn’t exactly deduce her financial situation but then she casually mentioned her dad—Thailand sex tourist, Asian massage parlor guy, former couch-surfer in his 20s… I said, earnestly: you need to give him this book. I know he will love it. I handed her a copy of Worst Boyfriend Ever.
What I didn't say: Please have your rich father throw me five grand so I don't have to resort to DoorDash…
I should be thinking about money but I can’t stop thinking about Celine:
7. Jenna
May 5th, 2025
Lincoln Park, NJ
Now when I meet a girl I feel obligated to write about it or it was a waste. If I don’t record it then what was it all for. That’s my experience with respect to Women at this point.
I took a picture of her as she left. That’s something I do sometimes to remind my future self that all this was real:
I was horny. It was Sunday. Big busty blonde girl Malia and I didn’t get to fuck because of logistics. Dang.
So I went on my phone and I texted the two Asian girls I actually did want to fuck, and they both said No, they have finals Monday and they’re “studying.” Great.
So here I am in this $6M apartment alone with nobody to love.
I was invited to another “right wing twitter party” earlier in the day by a guy who has 30,000 followers and gives me coke. He said he may publish me. Also we are Friends. It’s complicated.
Anyway he invited me to this party at this Japanese restaurant and I felt like I should bring a girl.
I messaged Jenna, who I’ve been meaning to meet since I’ve been in New York but it hasn’t been convenient— she lives an hour west in Nowhere, New Jersey. That’s a far drive when there are all these bitches who want me here in New York. But tonight I am unwanted. So I texted her, explaining all this rather candidly and more succinctly than I am doing here, and she said Sure.
I drove 1 hr West to Lincoln Park to pick her up. I asked if I should drive past her house so that her parents don’t see her jumping into the back of some van, but she said it’s fine don’t worry about it. OK.
She was a bit unsettled when I shook her hand through the drivers side window and told her to get in the back. What? Yeah the front passenger is full of stuff, can you just get in the back, on the bed. Sure… I guess… she was processing that all this is real, just like on the blog. Then we drove to NYC.
She’s relatively smart, for a girl who chooses to meet with me. She’s pre-determined we’re not going to have sex, which is fine with me because she’s White and also I don’t want to have sex with anyone who doesn’t want to have sex with me.
She lives in Jersey but works in The City. That’s what they call it, The City, she commutes in with her mom at 5 AM every day to work at a Talk Show. I forget they still have those—In Person Jobs, I mean. But also Talk Shows. She’s got a nice body but I don’t learn this ‘till much later.
She’s not dressed like a slut, for once, which is a fine change of pace. She’s wearing a thin dark green blouse with no bra. Black trousers which a lesser man may categorize as “streetwear”...
Her hair is dyed blonde, convincingly from afar but up close I can tell she is brunette like me. She thinks she looks better blonde; I’m not callous enough to argue. But I know she’d look better natural, because everyone does. Later in the night I learned that our noses are incompatible for kissing. I miss the efficiency of the flat Asian nose.
*
She was surely one of the more Conventionally Attractive girls I’ve met so far, but for some reason Conventionally Attractive just doesn’t turn me on. It turns me on when she wants to fuck me and I can see it in her eyes. I saw a lot of things in her eyes over the course of the night but that feeling was sparse. She had to remind me in words that she was resisting the urge.
She’s a writer like me, a real one, so she was watchful open and to be honest, a little creepy.
I gave her the girlfriend experience but she interrupted me by being honest and noticing that there were men at this party, at this Japanese sushi-bar, who she saw as celebrities whose artistic works she admired. I felt myself sinking into a hole.
She bought me so many drinks but also she said there’s this guy, who’s an actor, who’s standing behind you, far into the room, who fucked me and then ghosted me… he actually forced my head down into his crotch so that I’d be sucking his dick. Her expression was not telling as to whether or not she liked it, I bet she’s unsure herself.
I find oral sex obscene in most contexts but there are a lot of girls who want to be treated in obscene ways. Several girls have indicated they would be more than open to some kind of non-consensual situation, at least in fantasy, and so we play this tricky little game…where they say they don’t want it, but I can feel them wanting me to just take it anyway, they want me to want it so bad I have to force it. And sometimes that happens. But it’s always a risk. But it’s the risk that makes it Fun, Hot, Real. Do you know what I mean? I’m not a rapist I’m just a super-advanced lover. Or perhaps I just think too much.
We socialized. Met a lot of people who have Substacks. No one with more Subscribers than me. But all fine people.
I cornered some tired looking women: “Do you know Worst Boyfriend Ever?” and they said yes, cautiously. I couldn’t contain my excitement–do you like it? They were unsure. Whatever, I’m here with a hot girl in real life so it’s real and I’m real and do you wanna do some coke? Marvin’s going through a phase and he loves to share.
Jenna and I went into the bathroom do to some coke. She said she didn’t much feel it but I know she did. I did too.
Coke is kind of subtle—I can feel it in my confidence. For example the first time we did it we came out of the bathroom and I immediately kissed her on the cheek. Not because I loved her, but because I couldn’t help myself.
I took her into the dancing room but it was mostly black people and I felt like too much of a sensitive young man in that moment to start a mosh pit.8
There was no mosh pit, I’m not going to impose my way of life on all these nice people tonight and be remembered as the guy who failed to start a mosh pit because he had weak aura, so we moved to leave.
We bounced9 to KGB Bar, where they do Poetry Readings and say “i know you from twitter!” and Socialize and spend their parents’ money and pretend that writing is a real job, in this place I feel like John the Savage… I’m not from this world. They do tend to like Chilling in my Van though.
Tragically the Actor from the last bar is here too and she still wants to fuck him, she buys us more drinks and now there’s a Director too, who makes Films She Likes and I’m like oh what a horrible world.
You’re sitting with the worst boyfriend ever here, I guarantee what they do is not 1/10th as epic-tragic-real as me, I’m not just saying these things, I know. I’m driving around the country fucking girls in a van writing about my experiences, running away from a city of people who hate me… I’m nearly broke but in Love I am so rich. She understands this enough to meet me, to be very good to me, but her pining for these other men is unfathomable…
Do you not see that you’re in the presence of something inimitable?
Whatever. She steals a hit of a nearby vape. I tell her to do it. I kiss her sometimes when I get the urge. We eye Asian women together. I’m getting bored, tired, and it’s late so I tell her let’s get in the van and drive to the place I’m staying. She obliges like all girls do, always.
We drive, park near by, in Chinatown/Little Italy, just a few minutes down the street, New York’s pretty great, I think, until we’re out of the van and walking toward the apartment, and FUCK I DON’T HAVE THE KEY, IT’S NOT IN MY POCKET, THESE PEOPLE TRUSTED ME WITH THEIR APARTMENT KEY AND I LOST IT, I WAS GOING TO FUCK THIS GIRL RAW I KNOW IT, FUUUUUUCK….
Jenna I’m sorry—disasters’ struck. I don’t have the key. We’re going to have to sleep in the van here. Street parked in Chinatown.
She’s really tired too and says fuck it, sure. We both know I’m too drunk to drive an hour back to Lincoln Park. Also she kind of does want me, anyway.
We crawl into the van, I grope her quite a bit but the weight of the situation is too heavy, it’s 3 AM and I’m not high on coke any more, I just kissed her face more, we settled into an uncomfortable position on the twin sized bed, and with my hard dick on her thigh we fell asleep.
We woke up with the sun. It was long before the Tech Lords who live in the $6M apartment wake up, so we had nowhere to go and nothing to do. I went into a cafe and bought a banana for $1 so I could take a piss. New York City is not a place in which you can just piss anywhere, it’s all very public all the time and there is very little grass. Or bushes. You know what I mean.
We lazed about hot sweaty and hungover for an hour or so until Brandon woke up inside to let us in. I am so sorry for losing the key.
He Buzzed us in from above, in his room, so he didn’t see the Jenna girl come in with me. He didn’t see me take her in through the huge beautiful living room either. I really really hope he didn’t hear us talking in the bed room on the other side of his wall, but something deep within me knows that he did.
We did not fuck. Well actually I fucked her but she didn’t fuck me. Here’s how: I was begging her to come take a shower with me and she was saying no. I really hate when girls say no. I began to kiss her with a little more intention and grab her ass and rub myself against her standing up. We must be quiet because Brandon is in the other room enjoying his Sunday morning in reality.
I lifted Jenna like a log, holding her sideways with my skinny-man strength and throwing her onto the bed, which I’m sure she enjoyed. It didn’t make too much of a sound ‘cause it’s not that kind of bed. We’re in luxury here. It’s all so very plush and clean.
Ricky told me several times: just wash the sheets. Just please wash the sheets before I get back. Yes sir. I take that to mean, you can fuck on my bed, just wash the sheets and don’t tell me about it. Okay I won’t. And I will sincerely hope that he doesn’t read this blog post either. Sigh.
Anyways I’m happy to share with Richardson and the world that we did not take our clothes off get naked and fuck. I simply crawled on top of her and began to grind my pelvis onto hers, peeling down her black Streetwear trousers to reveal her wonderful purple panties on her pale thin white girl body, also she goes to the gym, I couldn’t really tell until I more closely examined her form… I’m glad I didn’t flip her over to see her ass because that would be game over for me right there, if you know what I mean, no I kept it real personal and just ground my hard throbbing dick upon her while kissing and fondling her until I came into my own briefs.
I made sure to ask her one final time as I was doing it—are you SURE you don’t want to fuck me? And she said something like Yes I’m Sure, which is why I just went through with it and used her body as an object to bring myself to orgasm and make the pain go away. I sighed that familiar sigh. IMMEDIATELY her face changed—oh man I should’ve just fucked you! Women are so funny.
Methinks she made the right choice—she’s been “abstinent” for 5 months and that’s part of why I didn’t push her as hard as I could. She’d had a problem with sex in the past, like fucking a new guy every day of the week, and for once I can really relate. She also told me she had divorced parents who despite their bitter screaming hatred of each other continued to live together in the same house for years—presenting a really good example of exactly how Not to love… I said me too… maybe that’s why we’re like this. She said no that’s normal, everybody has parents like that. I severely disagree.
Then I took her home. She’s a good girl and now we are friends. I guess. We both have a problem with sex and we both write on Substack and so I guess we can be friends. I don’t really have friends, I just have girls I use for sex but she’s moving to New York and maybe one day so am I, so I guess we are Friends. I give her my last remaining copy of Worst Boyfriend Ever, in return for all the drinks.
We get back to her house in New Jersey. I kiss her goodbye and take a picture of her as she goes. I don’t know why I do this. One day I’ll be glad, though. It’s fun to take a stroll down memory lane. Whatever. It was nice to meet you Jenna, in the future legal case all these girls bring against me I hope you’re on my side. I’m not a bad person I’m just different.
Back in reality, it’s Monday.
I told Amy I’d see her Monday.
I lost my keys to the place, and I came on Jenna’s stomach that very morning, but I live to serve, and I don’t flake, So I drove straight south from Jenna in Lincoln Park to Amy down in Edison. Picked her up from school. I asked her if she wanted to hear about my night and she said no.
May 6th, 2025
SoHo
What it Takes to Make Me Happy
I took Amy in the apartment and came inside her raw. This is addiction. I texted Jessica can I pick you up at 5 or 6? This is addiction. I need to buy Plan B… this is addiction. Fuck me fuck me fuck me. Jenna I’m so sorry… fuck I mean Jessica… I knew I would have to make somebody sad, I always do. Why did you both have to be free on a Monday? I’m being a retarded pussy, get back to work. Respond to emails. No, write about Amy… my mind is full of spiders.
Dropped Jenna off in Lincoln Park.
Picked Amy up in Edison. Brought her to NYC.
Amy and I went to a Japanese restaurant with nobody else there. Just she and I and the bartender. She found this place on TikTok, that’s where she finds all –
She found the Japanese place on TikTok, that’s where she finds all these cute spots that we simply must try (with my last remaining few hundred dollars). The portions were small but the food was good. We sat beside each other on stools which always makes me a little squeamish ‘cause I have bad posture and a weak chin. She has perfect posture and the face of an angel.
She was wearing a lot of make up and sexually arousing black clothing.
I was looking like a drug addict bum. He must be a singer… people must think when they see us together. Nope just a genius.
She told me her mom was getting in an e-relationship with a hot Chinese actor in rehab, but it fizzled out. The Females they love a man in distress. She told me her Grandma can no longer see her location, because it’s just Not good for her. I want to say that I’m not good for her, but she already knows.
Nothing crazy happened at the restaurant, except when she came out of the bathroom and I pushed her against the wall for a desperate little kiss… a hint of play-rape in public, it did not blossom but I like to keep them on their toes, because I’m such an awesome badass pussy-fucker Alpha Male, In Real Life, 24/7…
Japanese Place. Italian Place. Cannolis. 300 Chinese Stares. Holding hands in public, who gives a fuck. We finally got to the apartment doors on Mulberry Street.
These Tech guys live right in the middle of the action—it’s perfect.
Mulberry Street is Little Italy, dozens of Restorantes and old gorgeous brick buildings and string lights and even those cheesy tourist-traps with the T shirts and the key chains seem beautiful—
Anyways we’re on this street waiting outside because I texted Brandon politely asking him to “buzz me in,” remotely…
but then before I knew it he was there, in the flesh… and we froze like roadkill.
He looked at me with that smug smile, seeing I’m here with this hot young Chinese thing… bringing her into his place…
I was really hoping that he wouldn’t see, because well now he knows, and he will tell Ricky, so now I’ll have to confess: “Yeah I took a female into your place, onto your bed, etc, don’t worry I washed the sheets hahaha..I’m sorry… thank you for being so kind to me and letting me in, Sorry I abused your trust to indulge my addiction. If you read the blog you probably could’ve guessed that this would happen, I don’t know how much of it you read, sigh, fuck my whole entire life.”
So Brandon just happened to be on his way out as he let me in. I—okay… thanks..
I looked at him and he looked at me and he looked at Amy and then I took Amy up into the place. There was no one else inside. I held my head like Shinji, adjusting to our new reality. There was no time for a tour.
I began to kiss her almost immediately. I had been holding it in for the past 4 hours. She has this effect on me. I don’t know how long he’ll be out for—maybe he just went out for a New York Slice.
I dragged her into the bedroom to show her the luxurious bath I have all to myself. It’s got one of those glass-box showers and a big white tub with no curtain. A leafy plant overhead. Tall windows, the light pouring in.
Something in the air compelled me to lift her onto the porcelain counter-top where my good friend Ricky probably shaves and washes his face every day so that she’s sitting at my chest height. I pulled down her skirt and tickled her crotch like a spider.
Ready or not, I pulled her down flipped her around shoved her against the counter-top-sink in front of the big mirror, pulled her panties down and slapped her ass hard because nobody else was home and I could feel that she was sufficiently wet to to be penetrated. I had to crouch a bit because of the way our heights worked but it still felt perfectly natural.
She was getting fucked in front of a mirror like American Psycho. I was not staring at my own face, though, I was resisting the urge to cum already about 30 seconds in.
I then picked her up at my side like a log and air-lifted her out of the bathroom and tossed her onto the bed. Just like the night before. I’m not so strong any more but I’ll always be strong enough for this. She was dizzy and laughing, we were high, we had taken a little bit of an edible earlier—each taking like 40% more than we should.10
So I proceeded to have sex with her, soft and quiet because it was hard to tell if Brandon had returned.
Eventually my resolve broke and my body’s primordial warning system told me that I was about to ejaculate inside her. She was not on birth control.
When the I’m Going to Cum feeling came, I knew I should’ve pulled out but I didn’t. I just didn’t. It was that feeling of imprisonment, checkmate, of “whatever next move occurs between my dick and this pussy here is going to make me cum.” Whether I thrust or pull out, or if she even moves an inch, it is going to happen and cannot be reversed. Past the point of no return. I knew this to be true like I knew the sun would rise again.
She had a body like one of those renaissance paintings, her breasts were not large but they were shapely, her skin was soft white clean her nipples were pink, she didn’t go to the gym and do squats she just looked like a normal natural fertile female human being. And to me in this moment she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.
So I forfeited $49.95 of my future money in order to just simply have an orgasm inside her body.
Then we took a bath. It felt kind of good. I dimmed the lights low so that we were only to be seen in the moonlight. I tried to penetrate her in the water but it didn’t work, I’m not going to look into the science of that now.
We got all clean and she looked at herself in the mirror for a while feeling pretty (thank god) and then we went back out to the bed to be high and laugh and send out bad tweets and eventually fuck again and fall asleep.
Woke up and checked my phone:
👩🏽 Jessica (19): “I really really wish you were touching me right now”
👩🏼 Jenna (23): “When u leaving nyc exactly?”
God damn it I can’t do this any more, Jenna wants me too because I clearly don’t want her, despite the fact that when I was with Amy I couldn’t stop talking about her, because she was just my most recent experience..
I actually grabbed 👩🏻 Amy (20)’s face and said I don’t like Jenna like I like you… when I talk to her there’s this wall, with you there’s no wall..
I can’t do this any more…
Wait, yes I can, I’m seeing Jessica at 6. She needs me to take her virginity so we can experience Closure. I am going to need to take a dick pill and tell her the truth: I am a male sex worker and you are part of a show.
May 7th
SoHo
Experiencing Closure
I slept poorly last night, balled up on the couch of the SoHo apartment because Ricky finally came home and I wasn’t ready to get back in the van.
Got a text at 1 AM: “Hey we found your key at KGB!” Hey that would’ve been really convenient like 2 nights ago. Great now you’ve actually INCONVENIENCED ME with this information… because you don’t open ‘till 7 PM, and I am trying to leave New York as soon as possible.
I changed my profile picture on Facebook last night. A Cry for help? Perhaps. In that moment I did not give a fuck and I’d like to keep it that way. Even if it only gets 2 likes, even if the algorithm hates me because the people hate me because of my racist sexist pussy blog… it was time for a change.
Also I took Jessica’s virginity. I was nearly 2 hours late to picking her up, from Columbia, because I was dropping off Amy back in New Jersey.
Jessica asked me what to wear because girls do that now and I texted “a thin dress,”
I sent her this instruction about 4 minutes after turning away from a rather emotional separation with Amy.11
Jessica and I seemed to have this mutual understanding that she would lose her virginity today, and I didn’t want to ruin it for her by reminding her that I’m in the throes of an epic sex addiction and she is just another body.
She is smart, beautiful, and rich. She looks like Pocahontas and has a 4.0 GPA. She’s just wrapping up her Freshman year. All her friends are sluts and she feels left out, but she doesn’t want to fuck any guy at school for some female sixth-sense type reason I cannot understand.
She’s Looking For a Man in Finance, I’m homeless and my card got declined buying Plan B for a different girl earlier this morning at the Walgreens. She loves me though because I know how to fuck and tell the truth. She gave me a Bukowski book with a long note written on the front cover in doctor handwriting I cannot decipher. I will try again later though, for her.
She texted me the night before at around 10:53 PM yearning for my touch. She said “I wish you were touching me right now so bad” and I didn’t reply ‘till noon the next day because I was fucking Amy raw with no condom and cumming inside her and yeah I really hope nobody ever reads this far, when I’m with these girls they tell me I’m a good guy but I am experiencing all this in first-person as it unfolds so only I know how fucked up it all truly is in an omniscient and writerly sort of way…
Anyways yeah so Jessica was definitely ready to lose her virginity and get it over with and she picked me. I can’t say no to a girl who looks like you so I picked her up brought her into a restaurant-bar and tried to order 2 Long Island Iced Teas—
“sorry we don’t have Iced Teas… are you both 21?”
Bitch I’m 26. Jessica was 19, but said she was 22—and the waitress didn’t prod further so we were OK. She left her fake ID at home.
We drank rum and cokes instead, and I ordered some Cannolis because I’m a money-wasting fool and then it was time for me to take her inside.
*
Back to the apartment. I messaged Brandon please buzz me in. I had been asking Brandon to Buzz me in about once a day since I lost the key and I always felt a little bad… especially after he saw me smuggle Amy in the night before…
Here’s this homeless-leech-artist-bum bringing girls into your beautiful apartment while you work your digital logistics job in the other room… god I shudder at the thought of it…12
Anyways he buzzed me in, this time not coming down to see that I was bringing a completely different slutty-dressed 19 year old asian girl into his apartment one day later… and so just I brought her up with me.
Jessica, we must be very quiet as long as we’re here. This is a little frustrating but also really hot. We’re hiding. They can’t know. I told her to follow me if the coast is clear. It was.
My dick wasn’t exactly raring to go after having Fully Penetrative Intercourse With Total Insemination Literally 3 Times just last night… but Jessica was hot too and I wanted to know what kinds of sounds she would make when I put it inside. I even chewed a bit of a Cialis in secret while she was in the bathroom… I wanted to make sure her experience was at least Good. I really do live to serve.
*
Jessica was wearing a soft khaki sweater over a tiny black dress. She was wearing her black hooker boots but I made her take them off in the hallway. Tiptoe. Quiet.
Instead of just taking her to pound town immediately I took her into the bedroom-bath and dimmed the lights and shoved her against the wall and took her hands over her head and choked her neck. She always fell blissfully asleep when I did this. She only seemed truly at peace in this state. I pulled her sweater up over her head and she warned me that it was expensive. Why would I care?
Her body could best be described as Tight. She seemed to think deep down that she was Fat, like all perfect 19 year old girls do, but really there was nothing to complain about at all. Her breasts were not large, and she apologized for this, and I tried to say baby please don’t… she had gorgeous modest breasts just like Amy and now I can’t help but compare the two… they were about the same height, maybe Jessica was an inch shorter but her ass an inch more fat, I noticed this when we were in the shower and I started to become hard as a result of grabbing it.
We were in the big glass box where Ricky showers every day because he works in Tech when Jessica started to appreciate my own skinny body and massage my back.
I penetrated her for the first time there in the shower. I sat down into a wall-sit-type-thing and pulled her Freshman corpse onto mine and let her use me like a human chair.
She gasped.
She started to make those precious little girl sounds which cannot be faked. The kind that make you cover your mouth. I’m not exactly sure how insulated this bathroom is here and whether or not Brandon in the next room has, like, headphones in, but I would put my hand over her mouth whenever she moaned a word. I fucked her a little bit like that just to give her a taste and she went mad… she began to kiss me desperately and beg urgently with her tone. I decided we were clean enough and that our shower was done.
I was still worried I might not be hard enough to give her the real Worst Boyfriend Ever experience. Don’t judge me…
Thankfully Ricky had this cream ointment labeled “Topical Sildenafil…” sitting on the countertop in front of his sink. Interesting… I ushered her out of the restroom so I could “pee” and instead rubbed a little bit of this cream on my own withered member… and then I went back out to meet her.
I laid beside her and told her to just lightly fiddle my diddle using her red painted fingernails and she’s a quick learner so she got the gist of it pretty quick.
It was long porn sex. It was her first time so I wanted to ruin all sex for her for the rest of her life right off the bat.
We started in missionary and from there the game was “hush, hush, be quiet, shush, please keep it down…” which I’m aware is really hot because you’re fighting your own involuntary moans, being teased for losing control, I’m laughing at you, I’m really smirking and giggling looking down at your poor little suffering face as you fight to contain your stupid retarded cries,
You poor baby, stop...
I have never known a girl who doesn’t like to be treated this way.
I pity her, that her next body will pale so dull in comparison. She’s talking to this Cute Guy on the Baseball Team, she tells me. He’s in finance. That’s great. I hope you fall in love start a family and never think of me again.
She’s surely not thinking much in this moment besides “oh fuck, oh shit, ohhh shiiiit aaaaaah” and every few minutes I throw her a bone, reminding her that I am enjoying her too, though I’m going to cum or anything—all the other sex I’ve been having lately and probably the Sildenafil cream are making it harder to cum than not to, in this instance here, which is lucky for her because it means I can just pound her endlessly, I flip her over and her ass is round and fat.
I only fuck in two positions, really, missionary and prone. All else is circumstantial. Prone is typically where I cum—it’s a lot easier to forget the gravity of the situation when her face is buried in the sheets and her figure is there for me on full display and I can just use her like a stupid piece of meat.
If you really want to know, I oscillate between fucking in the plank position and sitting up into a taller sort of kneel, with my hand on her hipbone or on the back of her neck. I can cum in missionary too but it’s too intimate…
I decide enough is enough grab a condom and cum in that instead.
Now it’s 10:33 PM and I get a call on my phone. Immediately.
I think Oh God, it’s Ricky, the guy who lives in this room, he’s about to walk in right now and happen upon this gory scene—it’s going to be the most awkward moment of both of our lives, but it’s not, it’s a completely different character in Worst Boyfriend Ever who goes by the name of Celine.
8. Celine
Celine is a 22-or-23 year old Korean girl who lives in Boston Massachusetts. She emailed me about a week ago inviting me out for a meal, rather cordially, mentioning that she lives alone in a studio apartment, and I have been seeing her as a sort of Escape from New York ever since.
She doesn’t know this yet but I want to stay at her place for a while, sleep in bed with her, and lock in to create this big epic novella-length blog post: The Homeless Sex Addict of New York City. For some reason I feel I can only do it once I’m physically removed from this place entirely.
So I just came and now Celine is calling me. Like I told her to. At this exact time, earlier today.
Fuck. I need to pick up. Should I pick up? Just do the thing stupid, hi.
Hi Celine. I’m whispering. She’s like why are you whispering. Now she’s whispering too. It takes her a minute to realize this and go “I don’t need to be whispering I’m outside.” Yeah. I just break and explain everything like I always do:
“OKAY I’m here with Jessica in someone elses’ apartment, we’re naked, we just finished having sex moments ago, she’s not supposed to be here I think so that’s why I’m whispering, the guy who lives in this room is coming home in an hour and I need to smuggle her out/wash the sheets. Fuck my life fuck fuck fuck I’m sorry Celine.. I.. um.. How are you?”
Celine speaks like she types: autistically.
Jessica says she can “hear the American-Asian in this bitch’s voice.” She’s not jealous—thank god, she is just giddy to be experiencing this clusterfuck with me.
I put Celine on speaker. I have no idea how she is feeling about all this ‘cause I can’t see her face. I feel like such an incredible asshole.
She is understandably overwhelmed. We have a 4/10 conversation and I hope she still likes me. She said she had read “all of Worst Boyfriend Ever,” which really makes me smile. She’s graduating college in a few weeks with two majors and a minor. Political Science, something STEM, and a minor in Arts. Jeez somebody loves school.
I have a feeling I’m going to fall in love with this girl and she’s going to feel my desperation and distance herself very quickly. Then again I always feel that way at first. She writes well, she makes me laugh. See how I’m just rapid fire spitting information and thoughts right now? This is how I was on the phone, in this three-way conversation between myself, the bitch I’m leaving, and the bitch I’m going to.
“Ay Carumba… Celine it was nice to talk but I really must go, Ricky is coming home in an hour, Thursday at noon okay? I need to clean these sheets.” She said OK and hung up the phone. I’ll see her so soon.
Jessica and I talked for ~35 minutes after that and I was sad that we didn’t have more time.
Her dad’s in Investment Banking, and so she was rich, but not the type that shares with homeless grifters like me. She made me pay for the drinks and cannolis but if she knew how much money I truly had left (i’m too scared to check my bank account, i barely know myself) there is no way in hell she would have let me do that. Still I felt bad about taking her V-card for Content so I paid anyway.
Dad was always working, 24/7, his whole entire life. He’s the CEO of a hedge fund in New York City.
She said he would be screaming at his employees in the car over the phone as they drove to school. She would cry. She would be carrying his monitors around on vacation because he was always on the job. But she could also tell that he loved it—he loved the work, the thrill of taking big risks, and she’s at Columbia so I must surmise they have, over time, mostly paid off.
She had a great time in her first year at school and she’s sad it’s going to end. At first I asked what do you mean but I know what she means, freshman year at a good school is magic, there’s nothing like it.
She’s dreading her Econ final and I try to give her encouraging words. She’s so grateful to have met me. She thinks I’m a good person, I don’t believe in Good Person Bad Person, I’m just a person, but she says I’m a good person and I always believe people now so I’ll take that into consideration.
I snuck her out of the apartment, quietly, kissed her goodbye and she took the subway home.
Then Ricky came in 30 minutes later. The sheets were still in the wash, I’m so sorry...
I imagined him saying “dude you had one job”
but instead he said “nah it’s fine man, i’m delirious, i got these kitkats from the japanese 7/11 at the airport, you want one?”
…What a nice guy. I lost his keys, fucked 2.5 girls on his bed, and here he is offering me chocolate. I accept it homelessly.
He says “hey a package came in, it’s your book” I love him so much. How can I repay a person like this? Probably by doing what got me here in the first place, by just continuing to tell the truth.
1 AM KGB Bar Person texts me: “Hey we found your key at KGB, let me know when you want to pick it up!” Great. Would’ve been really great 2 days ago but still, Great. I checked my bank account to see that I had just $600 remaining.
And they all lived happily ever after. Except for me.
as in, if the male population was polled, rate this woman from 1 to 10, her percentile rating would be highest, in my prediction. that’s what i mean by “objectively”
and yes i refer to it as a Show even though its a blog but its also my life, it’s kind of like a self-imposed Truman-situation and it often spirals into these schizophrenic journals which i sometimes return to and laugh and that’s how i decide what goes in the Show… oh and also i’m addicted to Adderall because it allows me to Lock In and construct these terrible run-on sentences which eventually no one will have the time or care to trudge through but my god damn self…
i’ve been saying this for the past several months
“Oh yeah I met this girl online, she really liked my blog about cheating on my girlfriend and running away in a van and being homeless and driving around the USA Fucking Bitches and it’s really racist sexist & mean but some people seem to like it so I turned it into a book and now I’m in NYC selling the book and Jessica here actually bought a copy from me for $12 cash and we’re probably going to climb into my van later and–”
if you want to learn how to do this message me, i have no fucking shame any more, I Need Money
Not immediately, not the next day, well it’s different for everyone, but for me it comes in about a week, when I imagine them sitting at home thinking about me or reading my blog where I wax on in gory detail about fucking some other girl. Some younger hotter smarter better newer whiter asian teenaged ivy league writer perfect body manic pixie girl, who can never share this story with any of her friends or her parents or anyone she knows because what the fuck is wrong with you, why would you do that? Well, cause girls just wanna have fun.
I felt like a bit of a pussy for not doing it but come on, most people in this crowd do not want a mosh pit, they want to stand around swaying nervously trying to enjoy the Beats and Socialize and be in their little groups and Vibe and say Ayy ayy… I really hate that shit, what I want is for us all to be pushing throwing each other and flying around, like one of those videos of ant colonies working together to move an object in 10x speed, where they all coalesce and Become One… that’s what a mosh pit is to me, where the crowd stops acting and really starts to play, it’s very human. It’s like Friendly Fight Club. I’m the biggest Mosh Pit enthusiast on Earth. No one else understands.
it isn’t until i’m recollecting this tale that i’m realizing i drove 5 people in my van through NYC on a Saturday night drunk and on-coke… in the moment it felt like the right move
She said “oh these are only 10 milligrams! That’s nothing!” And proceeded to take about about half of it… I was sure it would be too much and I was right. These things are strong, I don’t know. Neither of us do Weed very often at all.
Amy, who now had Plan B and SSRIs coursing through her veins and my “Daddy’s Little Meatball” t shirt wrapped snugly in her purse. I couldn’t quite figure out how to say goodbye, for real, the kissing was not enough, and so as we stood on the sidewalk a few spots down from her house in the suburbs, I asked her: want my shirt?
She tried to think but I decided for her, by removing my shirt and just handing it to her and kissing her once more upon the forehead and walking away. Neither of us looked back, until I did, to confirm that she hadn’t.
I bought a replacement “Daddy’s Little Meatball” shirt 2.5 hours later, back in Little Italy, with Jessica. Thankfully she didn’t ask why I was so late to pick her up, ‘cause I can only tell the truth, and the truth is I was late because of another girl.
please dont kill me brandon, or anyone who reads this, it’s all fiction, i swear
I have an 18yo daughter… this normalisation of abuse and degradation disturbs me.
This blog is the reddest of pills, a Red Giant
Can any of the female followers explain the attraction, genuinely curious