It’s National Romance Month, and to celebrate and obscure the notion of “romance,” we’re re-running our super fun anonymous sex story series. Enjoy!
In an effort to catalog the mass sexual dysfunction in the District of Columbia, we bring you BYT Below The Beltway: 1 week. 1 person. 1 city. Total Anonymity guaranteed.
Below The Beltway No. 2: A 25 year-old male lobbyist scamming on chicks both east and west of Rock Creek Park.
7:00 a.m. Good morning, springtime. Hunting season is officially open.
2:00 p.m. Exchange flirtatious text messages with Tamara, a super hot, super mental, Italian chick from Cali. She’s coming to town next weekend. Imma beat it up.
6:00 p.m. Waiting on my porch for Lilly, a friend of a friend from New Orleans. She has a job interview tomorrow and she doesn’t know anyone here. Our mutual friend asked me if she could stay here for a couple nights. Said she’s cute. Haven’t met her yet but if I like what I see imma beat it up.
8:30 p.m. Lilly = Big tits, big smile, brunette, tall, smokes weed and likes Sade. PLEASE say I can beat it up. We are drinking Coronas but I don’t think I’m going to score.
9:30 p.m. Left Lilly at my apt. Wasn’t getting the trying-to-beat-it-up vibe. Called an audible (this girl Lena I can definitely 100% hook up with) and bounced. Cabbing to Cap Lounge to meet Lena and her slore (slut + whore= slore) friends. Ate a Xanibar.
1:00 a.m. Rolling an L in the back of Lena’s whip, she’s giving me the eye. She was backing me up on the dance floor so hard! Imma beat it up. Should have brought a couple of boys with me cause her friends seem totally down too.
3:00 a.m. Totally beat it up. That was hot. Glad I called the Lena the audible. A bird in hand is worth more than two in the bush.
8:00 a.m. FUCK. Overslept at that slore’s house while that Lilly chick is staying at my place! Now she’s never going to let me was beat it up! Trying to think of a lie about why I didn’t come home last night but cant remember the lie I told her about where I was going when I left last night. In a cab on my way to work.
10:30 a.m. Was late for work but back on track. Straightened everything out with Lily. Taking her to dinner tonight. Imma try to beat it up.
2:30 p.m. Ditch work 3 hours early. GTL. Do laundry. Go to the gym. Run into Georgetown to get some fresh outfits. Imma beat it up tonight.
9:00 p.m. My house guest Lilly looks sexy as hell. Everyone in the restaurant stared at her. The food at this spot is bomb too.
1:00 a.m. Failblog.com. Not sure what happened. Lily seemed like she wanted to beat it up. Maybe she was suspicious that I didn’t come home last night? Who knows with girls nowadays. I made like 3 first moves in vain. Pretty embarrassing.
11:00 p.m. At Adams Mill for Brad’s birthday. Slores in backless shirts abound. That Lena girl keeps blowing me up. She was a dime but lives in Fairfax. I’m trying to take home one of these Mill girls.
1:00 a.m. Still at Adams Mill. I’m drunk. Tons of fat chicks. Just scored a number from this tall blond in hooker boots named Emily. We talked about the Redskins. Actually thought I was gonna take her home but then some juicehead looking dude walks over to her and puts his arm around her. Not sure what that was about. I did not introduce myself. May or may not call this girl. She may or may not be a butter face. Friday night is amateur hour- I’m outta here.
2:00 a.m. Home. Smoking pot by myself and having a fucking good time. Xanibar.
5:00 p.m. Looking out the window at my Neo-con neighbors who are having a party. It’s a drunken croquet/bocce/wiffle ball/ kegger. I see tons of pretty girls in skirts. Most the dudes are bamas. They are blasting frat rock. Throwing on a Polo to blend in and going to see what’s good with this icy keg.
8:00 p.m. More Texas slores! Ran into Mary Claire, a friend of a friend. Shes sexy dude. Tall, blond and anorexic. Perfect. Wants to know why I never see her. (Probably because she doesn’t go east of Wisconsin Ave.) Got her digits again. She wants to meet at the bar later. Imma beat it up.
11:00 p.m. Decided to keep the Polo on. Skipped a party I wanted to go to in Columbia Heights to go to a bar in Glover with some of my Republican friends with hopes taking down that Texas slore from the Neo-con bbq Mary Claire. This place SUCKS. Starting to feel the Xanibar I ate in the cab.
12:00 a.m. Mary Claire never called. I came here in vain. This bar SUCKS. Ordering shots. Let’s get blackout.
11:00 a.m. Reality check. Checked my online banking. Bad news bears. Spent in triple digits 3 of the past 4 nights. The night I took down Texas slore #1(Lena) only cost me 3 beers, a Dutchmaster and a xanax. Also checked my phone. I texted my ex gf last night to come over! FUCK. I hate her. I always feel guilty and shitty on Sundays.
11:00 p.m. Still haven’t texted any slores. Sitting on my ass playing video games and blazing by myself.
1: 00 p.m. Lunch with a friend from NYC. He is telling me about a blowout fight he had with his slore girlfriend last night. He’s “had enough”. He says he’s back in the game, but I’m looking at him, and he’s not really back. I told him to dump her so we can be in creep mode all summer. Kinda like in that movie Can’t Hardly Wait. Great movie.
9:00 p.m. Well, well…. Mary Claire texted back. She said she got too drunk at the Neo-con Bama bbq bash on Saturday and had to pass out early. Might hit her up after a solid three day waiting period. Can’t seem desperate.
9:15 p.m. Three days passed since I met Emily that tall blond in hooker boots at the Mill. Mildly concerned about that juicehead who was with her but not really. Besides she said to hit her up and I need to plant as many seeds as possible for the coming weekend. Text sent. I included a joke about the Redskins: “At least Jason Campbell will now have health coverage.”
9:25 p.m. It worked. She replied. Wants me to hit her up this weekend. Imma beat it up.
9:00 a.m. Only Tuesday and its already shaping up to be a crazy weekend. Was planning on hitting up one of the blond chicks whose numbers I just acquired. Then I remember this girl Tamara is coming to town from Cali – I can def beat it up.
1:30 p.m. Feet up on my desk, leaning back and sexting with Tamara. I forgot what a freak this chick was. Shes talking about bringing toys! Tiger Woods didn’t just change golf. He raised the bar for sexting at work.
8: 00 p.m. Text received. Lena, Texas slore #1, wants to meet at Cap Lounge again tomorrow. Imma beat it up. Again.
Thank god it’s Sex month on BYT