The Chef Meeting a Booty Call After Work

Photo-Illustration: Marylu Herrera

In this week’s story, a divorced guy looks for his next wife when he’s not at the restaurant: 39, single, New York. 

DAY ONE 

9:15 a.m. Wake up and scroll through the news, Instagram, Facebook (I still use it!), and of course the dating apps. I’m a chef with late hours and in the morning, I lounge as much as possible. My body aches. I’m 39, but it ached this bad at 29, too. It’s just the nature of the job.

12 a.m. Second French press. Thinking maybe today will be the day I meet someone. I have no reason to think that. But I’m a romantic. My ex-wife left me a few years ago because, I don’t know, she was wild and crazy and wasn’t done being wild and crazy. I couldn’t tame her, not that I wanted to. I promised myself that I wouldn’t lose my romantic spirit even though it broke my heart. I’ve dated a little bit since the divorce but my work schedule makes it hard, and I think New York makes it harder. It’s very much “you snooze, you lose” with the good women out there.

12:30 p.m. Leave for the restaurant. It’s not my place — I’m a chef-for-hire and right now I’m working at a “southern comfort”–style restaurant in Brooklyn. I mostly work dinner, but this is when I go to work to prep. I bike to work, which is one of my greatest pleasures. It’s the only time I don’t think about girls, or money, or the future, while trying to stay alive on the streets of New York on my bike.

4 p.m. During a quick break, I send a message to a girl I matched with on Hinge — a beautiful woman with a nose piercing named Rose. She’s witty, super-flirtatious, and responds quickly. I like all of that. Dealing with girls who take forever to respond, or don’t offer up spark or flirtation, is hard for me. I literally have no time for it.

5 p.m. This is when I put my phone down for several hours to work. My family knows how to reach me if there’s an emergency but otherwise, my device is locked up in a literal locker.

9:45 p.m. I’m wrapping up work and check my phone. Rose asked me, about three hours ago, if I want to meet for a drink tonight. I’m really sweaty and pretty spent, so I write back that I’d love to meet her tomorrow.

11 p.m. I feel that familiar loneliness settling in as I head home, but New York is so damn sexy at night, I try to focus on that.

DAY TWO

6:45 a.m. The sun wakes me up. I’m pissed off that I’m up this early. I didn’t close my shades last night. I get out of bed, close them, and fall back asleep.

10 a.m. That’s more like it. Awake. Make coffee. Jerk off. I used to think I had a jerking-off problem, but that’s because men don’t know how to communicate and I didn’t realize that most men jerk off at least once or twice a day. Or more! I don’t have brothers and I didn’t go to a typical college with dorms, so how would I know?

2 p.m. At the restaurant. The waitresses here are cute. One in particular, Addie, is really cute. But after the Me Too era, I vowed to never mix work with pleasure. It’s a rule I will not break. Addie often invites me to parties she’s hosting (she’s also a DJ) and out for post-work drinks, but I’ve never once taken her up on it and we’ve worked together for almost a year. I’m sure she thinks I’m a dick, but it’s just self-preservation.

4:45 p.m. Before phone jail, I text a nurse I matched with a few days ago named Erika. We have the exact opposite hours. But I’m off on Thursdays, so now I’m seeing if she’s free then. I’m also seeing Rose tonight, so I text her my go-to after-work bar, and tell her I can be there by 10:45 or so. It sounds so suspicious meeting up that late. I’m even suspicious of women who are up for hanging out that late at night. But she confirms the date within seconds so that gives me something to think about during the dinner shift.

10:45 p.m. Right on time, I meet her at this small bar that I love because no one from my restaurant goes there, and it’s dark and cozy without being too try-hard. Rose is already there, already drinking. She’s extremely sexy. I think maybe she’s also drunk? I’m into her, but I’m also tired, and I think she — maybe? — just wants to fuck.

11:30 p.m. Yup, she just told me she wants to take me home and fuck me. Okay then! But I rode my bike to the bar so I’m not sure how to pull this off. I decide to lock it up there and come back tomorrow and hope for the best. I call an Uber to her place and we proceed to have really fast and really fun sex. We both got off. And … I think I’ll probably never see her again! I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just think she was horny and looking for sex, and I’m cool with that but I do want a relationship, and I can’t pretend I don’t.

2 a.m. I end up taking an Uber back to my abandoned bike and riding it home. I don’t get home until super-late, but it was worth it.

DAY THREE

10:30 a.m. Well, that was fun. I’m no stranger to casual sex, but sometimes I wake up feeling dirty about it. Today I feel content, though. She was very much in control of the situation and I just followed her lead. It’s nice to be somewhat submissive like that.

1 p.m. I have just enough time to play basketball at the gym for an hour. I try to do this twice a week to clear my head and get some cardio in.

3 p.m. I’m able to start late today because there’s an overlap with the other chef on Wednesdays and we don’t both need to be there. She’s another highly sexy woman, one who I would break my no-dating-colleagues rule for. But she’s a lesbian, alas.  

11 p.m. Still going. My body hurts. I’m dying to get to my phone to confirm the date with Erika, the nurse, tomorrow. It’s my day off, and I don’t like to waste it on girls who flake.

DAY FOUR

11 a.m. I’d sleep for 12 hours a night if I could. But last night was ten, so I’m good.

11:30 a.m. Get straight on my computer to figure out where to take this lovely nurse. I’m feeling optimistic about Erika, so I go the distance. I ask her if she wants to see Titaníque, the musical. I have a friend who’s involved with the production and he can get us tickets. I’m not a theater guy, but I could use some culture. Figure we can get drinks before, maybe dinner after?

2 p.m. Erika says she’s seen it and suggests we just get a drink instead. Okay, I overdid it with the theater idea. I can tell she’s maybe a little spooked by me. I thought it sounded fun! So I research the best bars near her apartment. I like to make it easy for the girls when I can. Normally it’s all on my watch, on my schedule, and I feel bad about that. I text her the name of a place I found and she says “perfect.”

3 p.m. Shoot some hoops. Good pick-up game.

4:30 p.m. I wonder if Erika is thinking about me. I’m kinda nervous to meet her.

8 p.m. Date time. I show up first. This place is sweet. It’s like a dark little hideaway. I took the train here, and it’s hot out, so I’m sweating but hopeful that subsides. I drink some water.

8:45 p.m. She is 45 minutes late. I’m very annoyed. She’s not even that apologetic. She doesn’t even have an excuse? So now we’re off to a bad start …

10 p.m. Erika sips one glass of wine for an hour while I drink two beers. The chemistry is off. When it’s time to wrap up, I don’t even try to kiss her or make plans for a second date. Something is weird with her. I wonder if she’s really into someone else and trying to make him jealous or something. There was just something so absent about her.

11 p.m. Rose texts to see if I want to come over. Oh, Rose! I don’t have the energy tonight, but good to know the offer stands.

DAY FIVE

10 a.m. Another day, another dollar. New York life is relentless.

11:15 a.m. Get on my bike to go to work. Feel a bit down in the dumps. I’m so sick of the apps. I’m so lonely. I’m so tired of trying to find someone to love.

3 p.m. During prep, I try to drink a lot of water. I need to be mindful of taking care of my body and mind. It’s one of those days.

4:50 p.m. Before turning off my phone, I see that Erika has texted to apologize again for being late last night. She wants to make it up to me? Something is off about this girl, I just don’t know what? I table it until after service.

11 p.m. Finish closing. I don’t text Erika back. But there’s another text from Rose! I tell her I’ll come over tomorrow night if she still wants me. It’s going to be a Saturday night, why not?

11:45 p.m. Jerk off the second I get home to nothing and no one in particular.

DAY SIX

10 a.m. Same shit, different day.

12 p.m. Addie, the cute waitress, asks me if I’m seeing anyone. I never talk about my personal life with her. I’m sure it’s part of my ongoing loneliness crisis; I won’t connect with anyone at work. But I shrug, smile, and tell her I’m single, offering no more, no less. She’s like, “We can fix that!” I don’t know if she means by dating her, or fixing me up, but I don’t engage.

3:50 p.m. I see on Facebook that my ex-wife’s brother got married last night. Naturally I scroll through some of the photos to look for my wife. And there she is. Gorgeous as always, and there’s a guy with her. I already knew she had a boyfriend. It sucks to actually see it, but I’m the one who went looking.

10:45 p.m. I unlock my phone and text Rose. “Want me?” She writes back and says she’ll be home in an hour.

11:45 p.m. Bike to Rose’s. I’m sweaty and need a shower, so I do that first thing. Then we start kissing and fucking while my towel is still on. She’s insatiable. I barely know a thing about her, but she has a cute one-bedroom, a mean cat, and I think she’s maybe a hairdresser? Something like that. We fuck and it’s an excellent stress reliever. I make sure she’s satisfied, get on my bike, and go home.

DAY SEVEN

10 a.m. I wake up wondering if I could ever date Rose? Could I parlay this into something more? It’s wrong of me to assume that she’d be interested in more than sex. She’s a sexually liberated woman, and nothing about her online profile implied she wants a relationship. The opposite in fact.

2 p.m. I step out of the kitchen to get some fresh air, and I text Rose. She’s busy at work but sends me a selfie of her at her hair salon. Bingo!

3 p.m. I smile in a “I had sex last night” kind of way, which Addie picks up on. I won’t share any details. I think I like being this enigmatic. It makes me feel sexier than I probably am.

7 p.m. Work is unusually shitty tonight. Difficult customers, some issues behind the curtain, and what feels like bad morale. If I were the restaurant owner, or frankly even paid more, I would try to remedy. But I’m such a “keep your head down and do the work” person that I just ride the current, knowing tomorrow is a new day.

11:45 p.m. Home in bed, post–jerk off, I wonder if I’ll ever get married again. I would love to. I want to be a father. I just have to keep trying.

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The Chef Meeting a Booty Call After Work

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