The Woman Who Doesn’t Quite Trust Her Long-Distance Boyfriend

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This week, a woman sexting with two men after moving cross-country for a new job: 24, in a relationship, Florida.

DAY ONE

6:15 a.m. I wake up late for my workout bootcamp after hitting snooze on my alarm four times. I recently moved from New York down to South Florida for a job in wealth management. My boyfriend, we’ll call him A, sent me a bunch of drunk texts last night about my “hall passes.” We’re monogamous, but since I moved away we’ve started talking about people we would sleep with if given the chance. It’s mostly in jest, but I worry he’s getting bored with me. We’ve been dating a year and a half and I’m convinced he’s the love of my life. We met online during COVID which helped set a really solid foundation of communication — we’ve never been in a fight. The move has started to test us, so the fact he’s constantly wanting to talk about other people we’d fuck if given the opportunity has started to bother me. For now, I try to ignore the steady buildup of voices in my head driven by my horrific anxiety that he is going to dump me or cheat on me. I brush my teeth, pound a cup of coffee, and head out.

7:55 a.m. Bootcamp was great, and with my head feeling a little clearer, I text A back to let him know to stop fucking talking about hall passes. It’s so dumb that I’m feeling insecure over this, and I acknowledge that. I know I’m hot and successful and that he knows he’s insanely lucky to be with me. I’ve just been feeling off with everything in my life (how I look, how I’m doing with my new job, my lack of friends after being here for two months) and know that I’m likely reading into this. I also know that I go crazy when I’m not having sex on a regular basis.

10 a.m. After a busy morning of calls and organizing my inbox, I text B. He’s a married man I’ve had a weird relationship with since 2015, when I met him on my college campus where he was lecturing. We’ve never physically had sex, but we have FaceTime sex and sext about once every six months and have done this on a consistent basis for the last four years. We did both of these things a few nights ago, and I can’t stop thinking about watching him come. By way of dirty talk, he said he thinks my boyfriend doesn’t fuck me the right way and that he’s going to show me the next time he sees me. A doesn’t know about this, but with all of this talk about hall passes, maybe I should tell him I actually want to cash one in …

10:30 a.m. B texts back, and I’m immediately wet and desperate to turn our conversation to sexting, but from a logistical standpoint (him being married and at home), I know that’s not possible. Our relationship has, for the most part, been on his terms. It’s annoying but something I’ve come to accept. I love A so much (and fully intend on marrying him) but will always want B more.

3 p.m. A calls and apologizes. I send him a link to an insanely expensive bouquet and get back to work.

7:30 p.m. I get home and almost immediately feel a panic attack come on. I call A, and the second he picks up, I start to cry. A does what he can to comfort me, but he can only do so much when he’s 1,200 miles away. He asks me if I’ve eaten today (I haven’t), if I got enough sleep last night (I didn’t), and gently reminds me that I need to try harder to stay on a schedule, no matter how busy work gets. I sigh that he’s right, tell him I love him, and cook dinner.

10 p.m. I fall asleep after making myself come twice thinking about B.

DAY TWO

6 a.m. My dog wakes me up, and I roll out of bed to take her out for a walk. While waiting for her to wrap it up, I open up Instagram and check my close-friend story views. A doesn’t use social media, but B lives on it, so I’m constantly refreshing every time I post a story to see when he views it. Last night, I posted a picture of me in my mirror showing off my long legs; I get annoyed after scrolling through and not seeing B’s name.

2:45 p.m. It’s been a day from hell. My boss called to see if I could set up for two conference calls and a dinner for tonight, so I’m scrambling. Most days, I don’t mind my new job. I really love the flexibility it gives me and that I’ve been given more responsibility in my new role. Today, however, it reminds me a lot of my old job. I never thought I’d leave my old company, but after some restructuring and expansion, I was so unhappy that I had to. Then this opportunity came up and I just had to take it, even though it’s so far away.

3 p.m. I text A again saying it’s been another shitty day. I check Instagram again and am officially pissed B hasn’t watched my story yet.

7:30 p.m. My boss decided to cancel everything after I spent the entire day setting everything up. I walk into my house, scream into a pillow, pour myself a huge glass of bourbon, and sit in silence outside for an hour. I order some Thai food but when it arrives, I’m not hungry and opt for a shower and reruns of The Bachelor instead.

11:15 p.m. A calls and plays guitar to help me fall asleep. I wish he were fucking me instead.

DAY THREE

5 a.m. I wake up early after dreaming about B fucking me in an airport bathroom. I shuffle to my kitchen to make a latte while dreading the shitload of work I have to do before going into my office.

8:20 a.m. I send a report to my boss and hope that they notice the early time stamp. I mentally add it to the long, long list of examples I’ll use to explain to them why I need a raise at the end of the month.

10:45 a.m. I’ve had back-to-back calls all morning and have a meeting with K. K is my co-worker who, weirdly enough, I hooked up with a few times in college. At no point did I ever think we’d be working together. I know he didn’t either, considering the fact he ghosted me. Since I started, we haven’t acknowledged it at all. My feelings weren’t ever hurt — the sex was mediocre.

8:40 p.m. It was a late night at the office so I’m just getting home. It’s the first night I’ve allowed myself to wallow in how lonely I am down here. Sure, I miss A. But I really miss my friends and being able to see them all the time. I think I took them for granted, which is a shitty feeling to have to sit with.

11:30 p.m. I did my whole routine to go to bed, and I’m still awake. Knowing I won’t be able to sleep any time soon, I decide to reply to some emails I’ve been putting off.

DAY FOUR

4:15 a.m. Ugh, I need to sleep more than two hours and to not drink half a bottle of wine before bed. I start to get up to take my dog out, but I think she notices that I am extremely hungover and decides to just lay with me instead. She licks my forehead, and we fall back asleep after I cry for five minutes.

2 p.m. Work sucks.

8 p.m. I miss my therapist. We had weekly appointments for two years straight and it was nice to have an hour where someone was paid to tell me I was sane. I’ve tried to journal since moving down here but all it does is make me mad — seeing my feelings on paper makes me feel weak and pathetic.

11:45 p.m. I call A and he apologizes for being too busy to talk to me today. I tell him it’s okay and that I miss him. He avoids saying it back before letting me know he has to go to bed and that he loves me. I hang up and feel tears coming on. I think he’s cheating on me with a girl from work he’s brought up a few times.

DAY FIVE

5 a.m. My alarm goes off, and for once, I don’t turn it off immediately. I lay there and listen to it for a while before standing up to take the dog out and give her breakfast. I feel like I’m in a daze.

7:15 a.m. I get to the office early and pray I can leave early too.

4:30 p.m. My co-worker convinced me to leave early and go to a concert with her. A great excuse to stay off of my phone.

12 a.m. I get home with my ears ringing and a dead phone. Once my phone comes back to life, the first notifications that come up are B and C’s responses to my Instagram Story of me in the short-dress, no-bra combo I wore to the show. I called A in my Uber home and he didn’t answer, even though he promised he would. I check his location on Find My Friends and see that he’s at a house with an address I’ve never seen before.

DAY SIX

9 a.m. I wake up crying after a horrifyingly vivid dream of walking in on A with another woman. I haven’t felt this anxious in a while — I pop an Ativan and turn on Real Housewives to try and relax.

12:30 p.m. I call A and get his voice-mail, so I send him a text asking him to call me ASAP. His read receipts are on, and he read it as soon as I sent it but doesn’t respond. I know I should eat, but I don’t think I could keep it down. I am so fucking lonely and worried.

6 p.m. A hasn’t called or texted me back. I crawl into my bathtub and fill it with the hottest water possible. I scrub my skin with a loofah for ten minutes straight.

8:30 p.m. A finally calls me back and just … sounds guilty. I ask him if everything is okay, and he says yes, but I can tell he’s lying. I don’t have the energy to pry anymore. I just want him in my bed with me and holding me. He says he feels like an asshole for not responding sooner, and that I should have something show up at my house tomorrow morning.

10 p.m. A instigates phone sex for the first time in six weeks. I don’t know what’s going on with us, but hearing him come on the other end of the line makes me feel powerful and wanted. I make him tell me twice that I’m the best pussy he’s ever had and that it’s all his.

DAY SEVEN

11:30 a.m. The dog and I wake up late and go on a long walk.

1:20 p.m. I come home and there is a huge bouquet on my front porch. About fucking time.

3 p.m. I call A and tell him I love him and as I go to hang up, a text from B pops up. It’s a picture of him holding his hard dick saying he wants me. I ignore it and text A that I want to have phone sex again tonight.

5 p.m. A calls. When I answer he asks, “What about right now instead?”

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