Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 7 of 12)

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July 14

July 14

After going to bed so late last night, I decided the second my alarm went off this morning that today was not going to be a day to start working at 9 a.m. Once I finally arrived at the office around 10 a.m., it was a pretty easy day.

Last night was total a bummer. The whole PW thing really upset me. At the same time, I am proud of myself for pulling up my big boy undies and going to that movie. I never heard from PW again after his last message. I don’t think I ever will. I certainly don’t have anything more to say to him right now.

It’s such a big fat fucking downer that these things never seem to work out. When I told a girl at work what happened, she said that I had to, “play the game,” and not be so forward from the get-go. That’s easier said than done for me, though. A lot of the time, I don’t even realize that I am coming on so strong. If it makes you uncomfortable that I took the time and effort to organize a picnic in the park for you, fine. Be uncomfortable. But, I treat people the way I want to be treated. For me, an evening in the park was a very nice gesture.

At the end of the day, I think that if you’re just not that into someone, it isn’t going to matter what they do for you. Remember Owen from a couple of years ago? The guy who took me out for my birthday, and completely spoiled me with expensive gifts? Everything Owen did for me was incredibly nice. I was so appreciative. However, it didn’t matter how many gifts Owen bought me, or which fancy restaurant he took me to. When all was said, done, unwrapped, and paid for, I just wasn’t that attracted to him. Yeah, Owen’s generosity made me uncomfortable at times. But, if someone I really, really liked did that stuff for me, I don’t think it would.

I finished up my day at work, and then stopped for some alcohol before I started my walk home. Lauryn was hosting herself a birthday BBQ at her friend Kayla’s condo tonight, and I needed provisions. Phillip was going to come, too. I started drinking as soon as I got home. I picked up a box of new gin drinks at the liquor store, and pounded back two of them before I even left the Witch Cave.

When I got to Lauryn’s party, there weren’t many people there. I always hate the beginning of an event, when everyone is sober and socially awkward with one another. This is why I like to arrive drunk, as I avoid all of that bullshit. Mind you, solo pre-drinking the way I do is probably not the best idea. My drinking doesn’t stop there. I continue downing champagne flutes throughout the night, effectively lapping everyone else at the party. Heavy drinking also allows me to fly my freak flag to the highest point. In theory, that’s a good thing. However, letting it all hang out is not always a great way to meet a new group of people. Whatever! I wasn’t at tonight’s BBQ for new friends. I was there for Lauryn.

Unfortunately, I didn’t actually see much of Lauryn tonight. The group was in a small outdoor area behind the condo building for the BBQ, and Lauryn was busy running around organizing things. Whenever I did see Lauryn, I made sure that she always had a full champagne flute in her hand – which I brought with me, of course. That’s my new thing, by the way. Even if it’s beer, I don’t want to be seen drinking out of anything but a champagne flute anymore. We’ll see how long that lasts. Anything to make me feel more like Mariah Carey.

Since Lauryn wasn’t around much, I talked to a lot of her friends throughout the night. I also flirted with a bunch of guys, all of whom were likely straight. One of them was questionable. Either way, don’t ask me what any of their names were. I wasn’t in the mood for remembering anything tonight. I was in a mood for keeping it cute, though. For the most part, I think I accomplished that cuteness. I don’t really remember many of my conversations, though. Mostly, I was just being ridiculous and gay. Very gay.

When it started raining later in the evening, we moved the party inside the condo. Phillip and his two roommates had also joined the festivities at this point. I didn’t stay inside all that long. Although I wasn’t blacked out, I was quite drunk. I didn’t want to stick around the alcohol until it was too late to turn back. I was keeping my pants on, and my dignity in check tonight. I popped another bottle of champagne in the condo, and passed it around. I also drank a bunch of random people’s alcohol. After that, it was most definitely time to go. My alcohol was about to hit me like a brick to the face.

For some reason, Phillip insisted on walking me home. I can’t remember where he walked me to, though. Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t know how I got home. Did I take the subway? Did I walk? Did I call an Uber? I have no idea. All I remember from my journey with Phillip was being annoyed that he wanted to walk and talk with me. The only thing I wanted in that moment was to listen to music and trek home in peace. Phillip had questions about PW, though. The kid was not letting up.

Earlier at the party, I had told Phillip what happened with PW last night. He was shocked. Yeah, no kidding. Join the club, Phillip! I guess my brother wanted more details on how PW dumped me, but I was not nearly sober enough to have that conversation and properly convey my feelings. I kept telling Phillip that too, but he wasn’t listening. Phillip just kept asking me one question after the other. I knew I wasn’t going to remember anything I said, so I didn’t want to have a conversation about something that was so important to me. I was kind of mad that Phillip kept pushing the conversation on me. It was kind of like a mental rape. The whole thing felt very uncomfortable.

Furthermore, I didn’t want Phillip to see me so fucked up again. I feel as though every time my brother sees me socially, I am completely shit-faced. If parties are going to be the only time Phillip sees me, I don’t want my binge drinking to be his only association. I compare it to when guys see me out at bars and clubs in the city, and I’m always fucked up. I’m so much more than my that. You just keep catching me at bad times. Or, maybe there are just too many bad times? I don’t fucking know anymore. I’ve lost track.

I have no idea what I told Phillip. Fucker! I should not have been forced to talk about PW while I was that messed up. Goddamn it, Phillip.

I don’t know where Phillip and I parted ways. I don’t remember how I got home. It had been raining, and the streets were wet. I remember falling, but I don’t remember where.

Goodnight xo

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