Sex IRL: The horny intern who has never masturbated

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Sex IRL: The horny intern who has never masturbated

‘Even after reading countless step-by-step guides, I still don’t get it’

Sex IRL is a new series by babe dedicated to detailing the ups, downs and in-betweens of real girls’ sex lives. It’s unfiltered, graphic and, most importantly, real. This week, a 21-year-old intern who hasn’t had sex in three months, but won’t masturbate. 21, straight, New York.

Day 1

8 a.m. I hit snooze on my alarm three times, and there is no way I can shorten my morning routine any further, unless I want to go to work without brushing my teeth. I curse myself for the two gin and tonics I just had to have last night because the hot bartender Instagram DMed me to ask if he would see me later. Clearly things aren’t going well if my most promising prospect is an Instagram DM from the bartender who only likes me because I tip well.

11 a.m. Time is crawling by at work, and I’m busy pretending to search Instagram for the newest trends while I actually swipe on Tinder to find a date. I swipe left over 100 times, with no right swipes. Things are not looking great.

8 p.m. Just got a text from my ex. Do I respond? Obviously, because I have no self control. He said he misses me, to which I shamefully responded, “I miss you too.”

9 p.m. We chat for a while, but he lives multiple states away, so it’s pretty harmless. Like T-Swift says “we are never ever ever getting back together,” unless he moves back… then maybe.

Day 2

8 a.m. I wake up in time to shower for once, giving my hair a much needed break from all of the dry shampoo. I also need to wash off all the regret I feel for responding to my ex.

2 p.m. I take a late lunch and my boss from my side job texts me asking if I can come in tonight. Drinks with the bartender down the street isn’t exactly an excuse, so I begrudgingly oblige.

8 p.m. I’ve realized I either need to move to somewhere less lonely or figure out how to masturbate.

Day 3

10 a.m. I’m sitting at my desk at work, when I get a text telling me my longtime fuck buddy has been sleeping with someone else. We aren’t exclusive, but things seemed to be heading that direction. I guess being friends with benefits never ends like it does in the movies.

Noon I can’t decide if I’m more bummed about the fact I won’t get to have sex with my former fwb again or that I’ll have to start paying for drinks at the bar he works at. Yes he’s a bartender too. What can I say, I have a type.

8 p.m.  I take a risk and text the hot athlete I hooked up with a few weeks back. To my surprise, he wants to hang out, so we make plans for tomorrow. I decide to shave my unruly vag in preparation.

Day 4

7 a.m. I woke up early to get ready for my semi-date. I put a curling iron in my hair, which is absolutely unheard of when it is this humid, but I figure I’d give it a whirl.

12 p.m. I eat salad for lunch, because I wanted to feel small when athlete man throws me around the bedroom tonight.

5 p.m. Athlete man texts me confirming he’s down for a chill night in, i.e. Netflix and SEX. We chat for a bit about work, and he says he’ll come over after he has one drink with his boss. 

7 p.m. Athlete man sends another text saying he’s still up for tonight. My vagina is excited.

11 p.m. All men are garbage humans. Athlete man doesn’t even show up. No text saying he’s sorry he can’t make it. Nothing. What does a girl have to do to get laid around here? It’s been three months and I don’t masturbate, so my clit has literally not been touched. I’ve never tried masturbating. Even after reading countless step-by-step guides, I still don’t get it.

Day 5

8:20 a.m. I sleep in a little late, because I’m feeling sorry for myself, and therefore do not give a shit about how I look at work today.

11 a.m. The athlete has the audacity to like the pic I posted on Instagram even though he didn’t text me back.

9 p.m. Going out with the girls is exactly what I need. We go to hipster bars around the city, and get hit on by 30-year-olds. I try to flirt with a guy by telling him he looks like Andrew Garfield. Clearly there is a reason I’m not getting laid.

11p.m. On the way home from the bar, my friends try to convince me to masturbate, and I nod along pretending I’ll give their tips and tricks a try.

11:30 p.m. I don’t. I commend everyone who masturbates, and I wish I could, but I just can’t bring myself to flick the bean. It’s like yoga, I’m not any good at it, because I have problems relaxing, and therefore both my clit and mindfullness suffer. So, namaste horny.

Day 6

Noon I wake up with a raging hangover and have two brunch entrees delivered. There is nothing worse then ordering so much food they give you two sets of silverware.

8 p.m My mind goes back to masturbating, but there is no amount of online erotica that could help me turn myself on. I table the masturbation thought, and go for a drink with my roommate down the street.

1 a.m. I send a risky snap of me in my bra to all of the hot guys in my contacts, in hopes that one of them will realize what they’re missing. I’m so horny, I might fucking die. If this is how I die, I want there to be a masturbation how-to at my funeral, so no other girl must suffer my fate simply, because she has no clue how to make herself orgasm.

Day 7

10 a.m. I decide to go for a run to sweat out the alcohol and the copious amounts of brunch I had yesterday. I only received two responses to my mass snap. One from a boy I often refer to as my soulmate, and one from my best guy friend. Unfortunately, neither of which will lead to a good dicking, because my soulmate is thousands of miles away, and my best guy friend is emotionally unavailable.

2p.m. I decide to switch it up, and swipe on Bumble instead. I match with a few prospects, but I hate making small talk, so I eventually just stop replying.

6p.m. I add a vibrator to my amazon cart, and then take it out, because what the fuck am I supposed to do with a vibrator anyway? All sex toys do is give me anxiety, because I don’t know how to use them, and there is no way you can orgasm when your mind is racing a million miles a minute wondering why it’s taking you so long to orgasm.

9p.m. I head down the street to grab a drink from the hot bartender and tell him all about my non-existant love life. Maybe he’ll finally get the hint and tend to my vagina before is turns to dust.

12 p.m. He got the hint and we’re going on a date next week. Here’s to another week of being horny.


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