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

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July 22

July 22

Before I even got to work, I knew today was going to be a great day. Robyn was away! Yahoo! Big Bird had flown the coop, and I was going to have the entire office to myself.

I rolled into The Clubhouse at my usual 9 a.m., and settled into my empty office. What a fan-fucking-tastic day. After going through some emails and answering a check-in call from Robyn, I got to work on my tasks for the day. As usual, I was finished everything within a couple of hours.

That’s the thing about me, and something I don’t think Robyn understands. Big Bird is not using me to my full potential. Despite my persistent requests for more responsibilities, I kind of don’t care anymore. Big Bird gives me jobs, I finish them extremely fast, and then I sit back and do my own thing. That’s basically what happens every day around The Clubhouse. I think it’s a testament to how I work in general too, and perhaps why I procrastinate so much. I know that when I need to get work done, all I have to do is put my head down, focus for a few hours, and I can pump out some pretty good stuff. It’s just getting to that point which is typically the struggle. At least, when it comes to personal work.

Anyway, that’s what happened today. Big Bird made it seem like the work she gave me would take all day, when in reality I was finished everything before lunch. Today was everything a Friday at work should be.

I’ve actually become decently close with Emma and Lucy at work – the two younger girls working on the floor above me. I would venture upstairs at different points throughout the day, and the three of us would hang out and talk. Nobody was in the mood to work today.

After that, because it was only 3 p.m., I took a much-needed break and went to Starbucks for a snack. Nothing makes me feel more like Britney Spears than going into a Starbucks and ordering a drink with a straw. My lack of proper footwear definitely helps complete the look, too.

Perked up by my caffeine, I returned to The Clubhouse and put on some music as I scrolled through Twitter. While I was in the middle of jamming to Whitney Houston, Lawrence, The Clubhouse’s president, walked into my office to photocopy something. Lawrence had been passing by my office all day, and had already made a comment about me wanting, “privacy,” as I had kept the blinds on my door closed for the better part of the morning. It wasn’t my fault, though. I was tired and needed to nap. Sue me!

Fortunately, I was a little more alert during Lawrence’s visit.

“How’s your day going?” Lawrence asked me, waiting patiently for the world’s slowest photocopier to finish printing.

“Pretty damn good,” I responded. “I’ve got Whitney playing!”

“So I hear,” Lawrence said with a smile. “Are you having a 90’s throwback day?”

“Every day is a 90’s throwback day when you’re me,” I said.

This short exchange led to Lawrence and I having a 15-minute conversation all about 1997 and, of course, the one and only Mimi. Lawrence was actually so impressed by my Mariah obsession that he even started singing some of her songs when I asked him which ones were his favorite. For the record, his number one is “I Know What You Want” – Mariah’s duet with Busta Rhymes. The man’s got good taste!

Lawrence took a seat in Big Bird’s chair, and we blasted Mariah tracks through her mini speaker. It got to the point where the Events Manager in the next office over joined in, and Lawrence even said that I should host a Mariah Carey trivia night at the club. What kind of ridiculoususness? I told you it was an amazing day. I’m totally fine with my Mariah Carey association, by the way. There are many worse things to be connected with. I will happily take the rainbows and butterflies affiliation.

The day was winding down. It was After Hours today, which meant that I could go upstairs and get drunk with Riley at 5 p.m. I never mentioned this, but Hugo, the club’s food and beverage manager, had lodged a complaint against me the last time I spent time with Riley during After Hours. As a result, Big Bird told me that I had to socialize with other members if I was going to attend the weekly event. Well, that’s the fucking problem. I don’t know any other fucking members, and they don’t fucking know me!

Riley is my “in” at The Clubhouse. As a close friend who has been a Clubhouse member long before I started working there, she’s able to introduce me to other members. When I saw Riley this evening, I spoke to her for maybe five minutes before Hugo started giving me the evil eye – he’s French – and then started walking back and forth between the two of us. Okay, you fucking asshole. I got the hint. I left After Hours, sat in my office, and then clocked out at 6 p.m. so that I could get some extra moulah on my next paycheck.

Mom and Dad went to Montreal this morning for the annual family golf tournament, which meant that Casa Z was going to be empty this weekend. Given that I had a bunch of laundry to do and had told Mom I would check up on Tabitha, I decided I would head north tonight. I was also feeling social, so I texted Dan and invited him to join me after I finished my dinner with Kate and Natasha at Smith.

I arrived at the Witch Cave a complete and utter sweaty mess. Somehow, I managed to pack up all of my clothes and linens, unpack my work stuff, vacuum my entire apartment, get dressed for dinner, and pack the car. Where there’s a will, there’s a fuckin’ way, baby!

When 7:30 p.m. rolled around, I headed over to Smith. Who was the first person I saw? The fucking replacement waiter from last Sunday’s brunch with Lauryn. I’m not sure why this guy thought it was appropriate to wear a pair of bright orange checkered swim trunks as a restaurant host, but because of this outfit choice, we were officially broken up. It’s over, man!

Dinner was great. Kate, Natasha, and I went for the prix-fixe Summerlicious menu and had a really good time catching up. I told them all about my drama of the last week, Kate gave us an update on her wedding plans, and Natasha talked a lot about her boyfriend Konrad – whom I still haven’t met, by the way. The way Natasha speaks about her relationship scares me. I feel like it’s a bit of history repeating itself.

I know Natasha really likes Konrad. Loves him, even. However, the things Natasha tells me about her relationship make me wonder if she’s really happy, or if she’s realizing that she’s kind of put herself in a bad position by living with someone she isn’t 100% sold on. Natasha talks about wanting to travel, or wanting to break out of the mundane routine she’s found herself in recently. Natasha is as beautiful on the outside as she is on the inside. The girl is used to guys taking her out to dinner, buying her dresses, and so much more. It’s clear that Konrad is not like that at all. What also worries me is that the two of them fight every time they drink. How is that healthy?

When it comes to my friendship with Natasha and Kate, I often feel as though I am the glue that holds the three of us together. We’ll always be friends, but I definitely think our communication as a threesome would wither if I wasn’t around. I think Natasha feels much more open to talk to me about her life. We’ve known one another since we were five-years-old, and have very similar feelings on relationships and how we fit into them. When Kate went to the bathroom, Natasha opened up to me about how she’s in a rut and how badly she wants to have fun.

When Kate got back to the table, Natasha went to the bathroom. Kate and I then talked about how we were worried that Natasha might be in a bad situation, and is slowly coming to that realization. As I told Kate, and as I have written about before, there wasn’t much we could do about it.

The summer Natasha and I turned 19, I had just come back from working a three-month exchange program in Florida. Much to my surprise, I learned that Natasha had begun dating a 30-something-year-old while I was away, and had moved into his place. I was worried about her. I drove up to Natasha’s family home, and spoke with her mother about what was going on. I’ll never forget what Natasha’s mom told me.

“Natasha calls the shots,” she said. “Natasha will do what she wants, when she wants, until the point that she’s not having fun anymore. Once that happens, Natasha will end everything. It’s always on her terms, though.”

Over the years, I’ve come to accept this very accurate statement about my best friend. As much as I can give Natasha advice and talk to her about things, there’s really no changing her mind on anything. I just always want what’s best for her, you know? I’m protective. To be honest, I don’t like it when Natasha is dating someone. She likely knows this, and perhaps that’s why I haven’t met Konrad yet.

On the note of wanting to have more “fun,” Natasha was adamant that we would go out and get fucked up at a bar tonight after dinner. Despite my pre-existing plans to drive up to Casa Z with Dan, I begrudgingly agreed to go out and drink. It doesn’t take much for Natasha to convince me to do something, which has led us to many nude and inappropriate moments together. Oh, well. At the very least, Natasha always keeps my life interesting.

Something changed with Natasha halfway through our dinner. While texting Konrad, I think Natasha realized that she would upset him by not going home tonight. It was decided that Konrad would pick Natasha up at the restaurant and take her home. After I had already changed plans on Dan once, I changed them back. That was fine by me. All I wanted was to go to Casa Z, drink, and smoke weed.

Natasha didn’t want to come to Casa Z with us.

“I always get too fucked up at your house,” she said, as if she wouldn’t do the same thing downtown.

At least when I’m drunk at Casa Z, there’s only so much damage I can do.

Natasha promised me that she would go to Hanlan’s Point with Dan and I tomorrow, and left the restaurant. Kate and I finished the drinks on the table, stopped by the Witch Cave to pick up a few things, then hopped in the car and picked up Dan. Kate was pretty drunk, which is always a treat for me. I like being the sober friend once in a while. Everyone’s got to pay their dues at some point!

Tonight’s drive to Casa Z was such a blast from the past. Sitting in the Ford Focus, Kate in the passenger seat – I still call the passenger side “Kate’s side” – and blasting music through open windows as we drove north on the highway. It was like we were 18 again, coming back from a night out in the city. It really made me smile to think that, despite everything that has changed in our lives, some things can remain the same. I live for those moments.

Once at Casa Z, I started my laundry and poured Kate, Dan, and myself some large drinks. It wasn’t long before my Indiana Jones bong was on the kitchen counter and we were all hacking up our lungs. Sufficiently stoned and feeling loose from the alcohol, the three of us had an amazing time. We listened to music in the kitchen, danced around, and then made our way outside to the pool. I was the first to jump in, followed by Dan.

Honestly, there is nothing better than swimming while high. It’s so fucking amazing. The only thing that might be better would be skinny-dipping while stoned. There’s something about being in the water while baked that is extremely refreshing.

Dan had never been to Casa Z in the summer before. Realizing this, he squealed, “I finally get it!” as he splashed around in the pool.

Kate was high as all hell. It was fucking hilarious. It was a very spontaneous decision for Kate to come to the house, so obviously she didn’t have any sort of swimwear with her. Dan and I kept egging Kate to get in the pool, but she wasn’t having it.

Finally, in a very drunk voice, Kate stood up and shouted, “Ah, fuck it! It’s me and two gay guys. Whatever!” and then proceeded to strip down to her underwear and do a lifeguard dive into the deep end. Coming up for air, the first thing Kate said was, “This is so much better!”

We splashed around in the pool together, taking pictures and having a great time. Drinking a lot, Kate pouring shots, and blazing the bong like no tomorrow. What a great fucking night.

As if the car ride north weren’t enough of a flashback, Kate and I reminisced about the night we came to the house the summer before we started university, when Casa Z was nothing more than a hollow shell with a pool. We had driven up to the house in the Escalade, blasting Mariah’s “Heartbreaker” along the way, stripped down to our underwear, and jumped in the pool. Hard to believe that was eight years ago.

After an hour of swimming, we returned to the house to relax and watch some TV. Kate passed out soon after we ate our Häagen-Dazs ice cream bars, but Dan and I stayed up to watch Netflix. When Adam called Kate to tell her that he had been waiting outside the house for ten minutes, she left and Dan and I went upstairs to bed.

Not having any self-control, I tip-toed my stoned ass down to the kitchen to binge eat chocolate covered almonds by the handful and polish off a bag of chips. You fucking idiot. We’re going to the beach tomorrow!

I sent this text message to myself before bed:

Kurt: “I can’t feel my tongue. Totally vegged out and lost control tonight, but it was also a fucking awesome, random spontaneous summer night. I loved it. Even being with Kate. She’s so awesome. Work was a joke. Dinner with Natasha was concerning.”

Goodnight xo

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