Behrang Daily

Thursday — 1390/10/22

behrang-daily@newsletter.paragraph.com (Behrang Daily) — Thu, 18 Sep 2025 11:42:37 GMT

Thermodynamics didn’t take place. How much I’ve procrastinated. How foolish I am. What if I don’t graduate this term? Sara said we’ll talk at night. I felt happy. Home. I slept a lot in the afternoon. Shower. I talked with Sara. She said we should break up forever. I felt sad. She was a messed-up girl, but I only wanted her for sex anyway. In any case, I’m upset.

Sunday — 1390/10/18

behrang-daily@newsletter.paragraph.com (Behrang Daily) — Thu, 18 Sep 2025 11:34:24 GMT

I’m upset about Sara. Is it over? What a waste. It could have been a good experience. My courses are piling up. I’m stressed.

Friday — 1390/10/16

behrang-daily@newsletter.paragraph.com (Behrang Daily) — Thu, 18 Sep 2025 11:33:41 GMT

I’m upset. I sent texts, she didn’t answer and rejected my calls. I started provoking her with messages — saying all sorts of nonsense to get a reply, until noon. I asked, did you go with someone else? I only wanted you for sex. At noon a message came saying she’s my sister and Sara is in the hospital. She said she would tell me everything and that Sara has to decide for herself. I felt terrible. What had I done? Regret is useless now. In the afternoon we went with Mom and Dad for a matchmaking visit. Their house was in Tehran-no. She was a good girl, a radiologist — but fiery. Born in Azar (Scorpio). I don’t feel good about fiery women. Home. Sara texted but didn’t answer me no matter how many times I called.

Thursday — 1390/10/15

behrang-daily@newsletter.paragraph.com (Behrang Daily) — Thu, 18 Sep 2025 11:32:51 GMT

Company — work until noon. I didn’t go to thermodynamics class. I’m stressed. Sara isn’t replying to me. I didn’t go to Nasiri’s class either. I photocopied the engine design notes. I didn’t go to the workshop. Home. I’m upset about Sara. It’s like she’s dead. Shower. Sara rejected my call. So she doesn’t want to talk. I don’t know what’s wrong with her — jerk. I felt sad. I remembered Sahar and the sorrows of those days. I kept calling Sara’s number until 2 a.m.

Wednesday — 1390/10/14

behrang-daily@newsletter.paragraph.com (Behrang Daily) — Thu, 18 Sep 2025 11:31:56 GMT

Company — work until noon. I barely managed to get time off. University — final session of the thermodynamics class. It went well, I showed up. Afterwards I went to meet Sara. Our first date — a café in Piroozi. I saw her in front of the metro and we went to the café. It was my first time taking a girl to a café. She was petite and brunette. We had a cappuccino and talked. It was nice. She was cute and small. I kept thinking: do I have to have sex with her? Can I even do it? I went to my grandfather’s house. Sara asked my opinion. I said she was cute and small — not hugely attractive to me, but as my first sexual experience and first girlfriend it’s exciting. I asked her what she thought of me. She said people’s looks aren’t very important to her.

Tuesday — 1390/10/13

behrang-daily@newsletter.paragraph.com (Behrang Daily) — Thu, 18 Sep 2025 11:29:11 GMT

I was texting with Sara in the bathroom. At her suggestion we listened to Ella Rose together. It felt good. Work at the company — nonstop. My texts with Sara have become warm and close.

Monday — 1390/10/12

behrang-daily@newsletter.paragraph.com (Behrang Daily) — Thu, 18 Sep 2025 11:27:39 GMT

Since Sara brought up sex, I’ve been scared! Yes, I’m afraid. I always thought I should save myself for my wife! And now I’m on the verge of having sex. I don’t know if I can or not. I don’t know if it’s right. A strong fear has taken over me.

✍️ Introduction Post

behrang-daily@newsletter.paragraph.com (Behrang Daily) — Thu, 18 Sep 2025 10:50:38 GMT

For years, I kept writing. Day after day, month after month. At first, I had different motivations. Over time, those motivations changed, but the act of writing itself remained. Sometimes I thought: what a shame it would be if I died and nobody ever read these words. A few people did, here and there, and they liked them. But publishing them publicly? That’s tough. Why? Because these notes are completely real. They are me—unfiltered.

Now I want to share them, year by year, memory by memory. These are the raw notes of a 30-year-old man. A man who has never had intimacy, never had a girlfriend, doesn’t know how to connect with women, and is even afraid of it. And now, for the first time, he has a girlfriend. She is a widow, and she was the one who first mentioned intimacy.

This is where it all begins.