Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 12)

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February 26

February 26

After staying up so late making those Instagram videos last night, I slept in for quite a while this morning. I should have been more productive today, but something felt off. I was in a bit of a funk – void of any creative or productive inspiration.

I worked on some MOMENTS party stuff for a while. The Gladstone Hotel is now telling me that a $5 Henkell drink promotion might not happen. No fucking way, people! We need splashes!

After making a few calls to various alcohol suppliers around the city, I sent off some more job applications. Much to my surprise, I also received emails from two of my resume references. Apparently, the Montessori school from yesterday had reached out to them regarding my interview. I guess that’s a good thing? To be honest, I’m very surprised that I’m still being considered for the job after I bombed that interview. I didn’t mention it yesterday, but the pinnacle of that disaster was when my mind literally went blank mid-sentence after the headmaster asked me why thought I’d be a good fit at the school. I completely just lost the thought. The two women in the room were looking at me like I was a goddamn lunatic. I’m shocked I even remembered my own name. You fucking idiot. Anyway, I still need to apply to that new events job at the Toronto Film Group, which opened up yesterday. It’s essentially a step up from my last position there, but I need that job. I would want it over the school.

I was getting tired of sitting at my desk, so I smoked some weed. Logical, right? I was okay with the high, but later in the evening I started stress eating and caught myself mid “hand in the chip bag” and knew I needed to stop. I’m not even stressed about this job stuff anymore. I have skills, I’m talented, and I can get a job. Finding employment is no longer my worry.

What upsets me the most is this Logan situation. Yeah, I’m still fucking upset about it. It’s Friday now, and we have not spoken since Monday night. I keep thinking that Logan’s going to cave and message me, but clearly, he’s not. He’s over it, and I’m left here without any sort of closure. How did this turn so quickly? It’s not fucking fair. I just wish Logan knew how much I cared for him. He leaves for Europe on Wednesday, and that will be the point at which I send him a message, wishing him a good trip. For the sake of my self-esteem, I can’t do anything before that.

Anyway, I don’t know if it was the pot or what, but I actually had the desire to go into the city and have a night on the town. Fortunately, Tito and Preston Mackenzie were both messaging me around that time and wanted to do the same. My preference would have been to go out with Tito, but he bailed as usual. So, I ended up going to a pre-drink in the Village with Preston at his friend Bobby’s apartment, whom I’ve met before.

The pre-drink was great! It was me, Preston, Bobby, and one other guy who I “know” through Instagram, and the four of us had such a good time together. We just talked, drank, and listened to music. Your typical pre-bar agenda. Oh, and Preston also gave me two lines of coke, which was a pleasant surprise. I felt like my old self again. However, I was also very conscious about keeping my drinking in check, and I did. I was energetic for sure – duh, coke – but I remember everything and remained very aware throughout the night. I don’t hang out with Preston very often, so it was awesome to be social with a different group of friends. It made me realize that I need to start making an effort to reach out to new people from now on.

Preston and his crew wanted to go to Fly, which is always an absolute no for me. That gay rave is a new Xanax prescription waiting to happen. So, I ended up parted ways with Preston and then met up with Dan, who was nearby, and we ventured down the street to Woody’s, another gay bar. The two of us got a couple of beers and I ended up running into Thomas Simon, a guy I went on a date with last summer. Remember? The French guy who didn’t get my jokes? We went to Grand Electric? I made him pay? He wanted to sleep over at my apartment and I closed the door in his face? Yeah, you remember. Au revoir, Thomas!

Dan disappeared at a certain point, which was fine, because I had started talking to another guy at the bar who hit on me. His name was Buck – I’m not kidding – and he was in town from Sweet Grass, Montana – again, I’m not kidding – doing a three-month contract with some oil company or whatever.

Buck and I talked at the bar for quite a while. That was my only intention. Buck was a total hick. He had a thick hillbilly accent, and his outfit wasn’t much better. I could tell he was smart, though. Drunk, but smart. He had a good heart, too. I liked that.

I’m not sure why, given his obvious flirting, but Buck caught me by surprise when he asked me, “Dew yew wanna get outta hurr?”

Maybe it was the accent.

“I gotta purdy nice hotel sweet to mah-self,” he added.

I didn’t give my RSVP to Buck’s invitation much thought. It was rare for a guy to hit on me like that, and I was enjoying the attention. Moreover, I knew I would otherwise be spending the night alone at my apartment. At this point, I was willing to do anything to avoid my impending isolation at the Witch Cave. Even if it meant spending the night with Jed Clampett.

“Sure,” I said. I finished my beer and grabbed my coat.

Buck’s hotel was close to the bar and only a block up from my apartment, so I wasn’t too worried about having to get home if I needed to, nor was I all that concerned about any hook-up danger. At 5’7”, Buck wasn’t much of a threat to me. However, it was only after we had arrived at his hotel suite that I realized how drunk he was.

I sat uncomfortably on the living room couch. Buck sat beside me and then put his head on my lap, almost passing out in the process. With his eyes closed, he slurred, “I’m tew drunk fer sex, but maybe we cud just cuddle?”

Before I had a chance to answer, Buck then asked me if I would spend the night. I knew I didn’t want to. I knew that I was in a bad situation. The entire time, I just kept thinking to myself, “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. But, I don’t want to be alone.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” I answered.

I helped Buck off the couch and we moved to the bedroom. He took off his clothes, I did the same, and then I crawled under the covers to lie naked beside this drunk stranger. At this point, all I wanted to do was go to sleep, but Buck kept fondling me.

It was late, but I wasn’t keeping an eye on the clock to know the exact hour we went to bed. However, I guess a decent amount of time had passed, because Buck had sobered up enough to recover from his whiskey dick. “Dew yew wanna fuk?” he whispered to me, trying to be sexy. Ew.

I was laying on my side, looking at the wall with my back to Buck. Without moving my head, I replied, “Get a condom.”

Honestly, and this is so fucked up, I didn’t even look at this guy. I couldn’t. I felt his dick to make sure he put the condom on, and when he tried to put it in dry, I told him to get lube. However, not once did I so much as turn my head around to look at Buck.

I continued lying on my side, arching my back so Buck could do his thing. It was so bad. Nothing but awful, awful sex. Yet, I all I kept thinking to myself was, “If I do this, I can get over Logan. I need to do this. This is for my own good.” I don’t regret what I did, but I can tell you right now that it certainly didn’t help me get over Logan.

After a few minutes, Buck started to take things slower. Now that he had finally stopped fucking me like some epileptic farmer, I was surprisingly starting to get turned on. However, it had barely been 30-seconds of his newfound pacing before Buck shouted out of nowhere, “I’m cummin’!”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Really?” I asked out loud.

That’s where it ended. I didn’t get off, and I didn’t care. I also still hadn’t rolled over to look at Buck. I just wanted to fall asleep. I considered leaving after Buck had passed out, but it was so late at that point. More importantly, I still didn’t want to go back to my apartment where I knew I would be alone.

The whole thing was so sick. No, it was sad. Ugh. The entire experience was horrible on every level, but the worst part was the kissing. Buck had this awful, alcohol-soaked mouth that he kept trapped behind a pair of small, crusty lips. When we would make out, all I could taste was his musky breath as he kept shoving his slimy tongue down my throat, and it was just – ugh!

I felt gross. I felt so humiliated and degraded, and I had nobody to blame but myself. What’s worse is that the whole time I was thinking of Logan. The entire time I was with Buck, Logan was all I could think about. How magical it was meeting him on that serendipitous night in New York City. How I instantly fell for him at first sight. How we had that incredible chemistry to the point where nothing else in the world mattered. It was just the two of us in that moment, and all of my cares disappeared. I was a better person when I was with Logan.

I don’t care if it’s obsessive of me to be hung up on Logan – I’m really heartbroken over losing him. I miss Logan so much, and all I want is to be with him. To look into his eyes and have that feeling again. Where nothing else matters and I know everything is right. I fell asleep on my side, not having moved, wishing it was Logan beside me.

Goodnight xo

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