3:55 p.m.: Get a text from Andy, a rough-around-the-edges guy whom I slept with for a while to get over my ex, Johnny, who broke my heart last year. A few months ago, I got fed up with Andy's bad-boy ways and ended it, but he wants to meet up on Monday. He's hot, so I agree.
11:40 p.m., bed: Consider canceling Monday's date, as I'm sure Andy's not boyfriend material.
SUNDAY 2:45 p.m., mall: Get an assignment for a writing project that partners me with Johnny. Ugh. Am suddenly relieved that I have Andy lined up as a lusty distraction. Again.
MONDAY 10:30 p.m., bar: Drinking with Andy. I'd forgotten how much fun he is!
12 a.m.: Still flirting when Andy invites me over. Accept his offer.
1:45 a.m., Andy's house: Great throw-down—a little rough, just the way I like it. Andy invites me to sleep over. I decline, but wonder, Is this bad boy changing?
2 a.m., car: Driving home, am slightly disconcerted to find that I have a crush on Andy. He's suddenly the guy I wanted him to be, busting out the witty banter, acting warm and affectionate. Why did I keep him on the bench all this time?
WEDNESDAY 4 p.m., street: Bump into Johnny and turn on the trying-too-hard aloofness, then regret it. We're polite, but I can tell this job is going to be unbearable.
4:15 p.m., office elevator: Get an e-mail from an Italian guy I had a fling with a while back. "I'm reliving our nights together and fly with my mind to you." Why do European men understand romance so much better than Americans?
7 p.m., restaurant: Rudely check my phone while dining with a friend. See the standard day-after text from Andy saying he had a great time and wants to meet tomorrow night. I ditch the play-it-cool rule and send an immediate yes. It's nice to finally like someone again.
FRIDAY 1 a.m., Andy's house: Spoke too soon. Showed up at Andy's and found him in his pajamas, swigging wine from the bottle and venting about his rotten workweek. I sleep with him, of course. Not every guy can pull off a spanking. He actually picked me up and threw me around! But it's probably time for some fresh blood—or at least a trip to Italy.
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