Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 9 of 12)

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September 16

September 16

I’ll get to the bore that was my workday in a minute, but there’s something more pressing we need to discuss.

While getting ready for bed about an hour ago, I was texting with Stefan. The conversation we had yesterday about Stefan coming up to Casa Z with me this weekend never really continued, so he stayed downtown tonight while I drove home. Part of that was my doing, though.

Instead of what would’ve likely been me working Stefan’s dick down to the last inch had he come to Casa Z, I really wanted this weekend to be about catching up on my own work. Even Dan had slightly hinted at wanting to come to the house, and I pretended it didn’t happen. I need this weekend for me.

Anyway, as I was getting ready for bed around 12:30 a.m., I messaged Stefan and asked him what he ended up doing with his night. It turned out that he went to Crews and Tangos, which I laughed at.

Kurt: “LOL”

Kurt: “That’s rich”

I then asked Stefan why he ended up there. These were his responses:

Stefan: “Ummm tbh?”

Stefan: “My friend’s trying to hook up and I’m accompanying”

Stefan: “And also hoping I get a make out in the process”

Stefan: “Not with him hahahaha”

Seriously? The fucking audacity. I couldn’t believe Stefan said that. I didn’t respond, nor will I ever.

As I re-read Stefan’s messages, I began to think that maybe I was overreacting. Perhaps the texts weren’t as strange as I’d thought. Phillip was also home tonight, so around 1 a.m. I visited him in his bedroom. I needed advice. I told Phillip what had just happened with Stefan, and asked if he thought it was weird. Phillip agreed that it was.

What was this guy thinking when he sent me those messages? Listen. I don’t care if you’re making out with other guys. Hell, I fucked someone a week ago in Vegas. It’s not about that. It’s about respect, and the fact that just yesterday Stefan was saying how he wanted to take me out for a drink. What kind of game is he playing? Does Stefan think this is going to turn me on? I’m grossed out. It’s fucking rude. Why would you tell the person you’re pursuing that you’re looking to make out with some random guy at a gay bar?

Here’s my position on all of this. Honestly, although I’m annoyed by tonight’s texts, it is hardly surprising behavior. I’m not just talking about Stefan, either. This is standard procedure with every guy I have dated this year. Except for Bryan, who was a real fucking gentleman by comparison. That’s another story, though. I just didn’t like Bryan that way. But, who knows? Maybe I wouldn’t have ended up liking Stefan, either. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. After the shit Stefan pulled tonight, I’m not even going to give him the chance anymore.

Why have men adopted this ridiculous behavior? It’s mind-boggling. Nobody is interested in anything resembling a sliver of commitment. Now, it’s not even about a guy backing off when I’m coming on too strong. I have barely pursued Stefan, and I still got shafted. I’m so fucking over it.

Of course, all of this brings me to the second part of my position on this moment of bleakocity: I’m kind of relieved. Stefan was the last guy hanging around from Grindr, Tinder, or whatever app we met on. Now that he’s dug his own grave, I can exit our situationship with dignity and really begin focusing on myself. I still can’t believe Stefan said that to me, though. The motherfucking nerve.

As for the rest of my day, it was pretty standard. While packing my lunch before work this morning, I found beetle larvae in my cutlery drawer. That really pissed me off. I also took it as a sign that I need to get the fuck out of my apartment.

Side note: I’m tapping my teeth together again. I feel like it’s a stress thing, and it’s freaking me out. I don’t want to grind my teeth at night, too. Haven’t they suffered enough?

I worked 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. in the office today. Although I attempted to do some real work, I really just sat in front of my computer and scrolled through different websites again. I ordered the wig for my Mariah Carey “Heartbreaker” Halloween costume, so I guess I accomplished something today. All of the Clubhouse projects I want to tackle require about 17 layers of approval from Big Bird alone, after which we have to take everything to Lawrence. As a result, nothing is really moving forward.

Big Bird spent ten minutes crawling around the floor of our office this morning, looking for the cap to her permanent marker. I wish I was kidding. I tried to take a picture, but my phone wasn’t working. I need people to know that I am not making this shit up. I think I’m going to start slipping some Adderall into Big Bird’s daily protein shakes. The woman’s a fucking mess. With a name like Big Bird, it’s hardly surprising. I’ll give her credit, though. When I mentioned that today was the anniversary of Mariah Carey’s Butterfly album, Big Bird put it on without any hesitation. We listened to the masterpiece in full. Twice. That was nice.

I ran out of the office at 5 p.m., walked to the gym, and did my thing. I continued listening to the Butterfly album while running as long as I could, which was only about 30 minutes tonight. My toe is about to fall off. It takes me almost 90 minutes to do all of my sit-ups, but I have to get them done each day. I’m going to be in yet another halter bikini top this Halloween, and my body is a far cry from “sexy.” I need professional help, but on my budget, that just means going to bed without dinner. Of course, that didn’t happen tonight.

I went home after the gym, immediately packing up my stuff to take to Casa Z. Phillip met me at the subway station, and drove me home with him. First stop: the pantry.

Cadbury chocolate is my fucking arch nemesis. Well, chocolate in general. Dad recently went to the UK for work, and brought back some giant hazelnut bars, which I have been completely obsessed with since he started doing a lot of business overseas when I was in high school. In fact, those same chocolate bars are a big part of why I was 230 pounds at 18-years-old. Fuck you, Cadbury!

Following my massive cocoa binge, I smashed some of the Wine Gums that Dad also brought back with him. Amidst a few loads of laundry, I settled into the family room couch with a plate of chicken fingers and watched Chelsea.

After all of the above is when I went upstairs to get ready for bed, and proceeded to have that gross exchange with Stefan. Well, another one bites the dust. Considering the hour in which we were messaging, I’m assuming Stefan was at least a few drinks in and maybe thought he was being funny. Or maybe Stefan’s “taking a laid-back approach,” like Phillip suggested. I don’t know. Either way, it will be interesting to see how Stefan follows up on his four unacknowledged messages. For the record: no response is a response. I only wish I had my read receipts on. That always gets them right in the balls.

I showered, then crawled into bed. Maybe I’ll masturbate right now. I could use a good release. Plus, it’s going to be me and my left hand for a while now. We might as well spend some quality time together.

Happy Butterfly Day. Mariah Carey’s magnum opus truly changed my life. Every day, I try to remind myself that, although I have come pretty far from that 230 pound 18-year-old, I can still continue to change and evolve into something even more beautiful. I just have to remember to spread my wings.

Goodnight xo

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