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

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September 23

September 23

T.G.I.F.F. – Thank God It’s Fucking Friday.

I needed this. Except, tomorrow’s wedding is going to be a total shit-show. I won’t be getting any sleep. Ugh. God. When did I become such a Debbie Downer?

After making it to The Clubhouse on time, I worked steadily from 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Big Bird was out of our office giving tours or in meetings for the majority of the day, which was pretty great. No complaints. Leaving at 4:30 p.m. really shortens the day for some reason, despite it only being a half hour.

There’s really nothing worth noting from my workday. I called Mom. That’s about it. Oh, there was also a managers’ meeting with a brand assessment group this afternoon. According to Lucy, the results from this summer’s staff survey were dismal. Are we surprised? Absolutely not. Perhaps Big Bird won’t think I’m such a whiney little bitch worm now. Everyone at The Clubhouse feels the same way I do. The only difference is that I’m vocal about it. So, there!

I made my way to the gym after work, and pushed through those fucking 1,500 sit-ups. I swear to God, they kill me every time. Following my usual shower and sauna, I caught a glimpse of myself in the locker room mirror. I thought I looked pretty good. That is, until I took a sip of water and expanded like one of those dinosaur sponges. “Watch him grow 100X before your eyes!” Yep, that’s me.

My evening was also fairly uneventful. I trekked back to the Witch Cave, packed up my things, and drove north to Casa Z. The rest of my night was spent playing with the cat and eating leftovers I found in the fridge.

It’s a short entry tonight. I’m not in a great mood. To be honest – and this is sad to admit – Kate and Adam’s wedding has made me quite cynical about marriage. Well, not marriage. I love the idea of marriage. I have just come to despise weddings. They’re horrible. Weddings are literally the worst things ever. Listen. I’m excited to see my best friend marry the love of her life, and witness that level of joy and happiness. I really am looking forward to that moment. But, everything else? Fuck it. Fuck it all to hell.

I hate all of this “tradition” stuff. Not to mention having to call Mom this afternoon and talk about the value of Kate and Adam’s wedding gift for 20 minutes. As if your reputation depends on how much money you give the couple. What the fuck? How is any of this even related to what the wedding is about in the first place? It’s not. Everything’s lost in the overwhelming commercial aspect. Much like Christmas, which I feel the same way about, weddings make me ill.

I hate sounding this negative. It’s how I’ve come to feel about these things, though. In regard to the wedding, I can’t help but look at what marriage was like for gays. Historically, I mean. When I think about what older gay people had to endure, it makes me sad. Heterosexuals have never had to second-guess the meaning of all this wedding stuff. Now, it’s grown into this massive industry where everything is overshadowed by the money, flowers, bookings, DJs, catering, limos, makeup, hair, gifts, and blah, blah, blah. Gay people haven’t always been as entitled. When I think about weddings, they almost seem unnecessary to me.

I suppose the main idea to keep in mind is this: “To each their own.” Listen. If you want 300 people at your wedding to witness you tie the knot, knock yourself out. As for me, the more I am involved in a wedding, the less I want one for myself. That’s the thing, though. You can still respect someone’s choices, despite not wanting the same for yourself. Even if I do have a wedding one day, I wouldn’t be dictating what people should wear, where they should stand, or who could give a speech. I would break every rule in the book. It’s all so planned out. Literally. Kate’s wedding has been planned out in 15-minute increments over a five-page schedule. Where’s the fun? Or is that scheduled in, and I just missed it?

Maybe this is all a waste of words. Who knows if I’ll even find someone worth marrying. Or, what is more likely the case, someone who will think I’m worth marrying. Whatever the outcome, I just want to find someone who will go on roller coasters with me and then get ice cream bars before we get in line for the next ride, where we’ll talk about random things that only the two of us understand. That’s all I want. Sigh.

I took a Xanax tonight. My first in a few weeks. Now, I’m going to masturbate, pass out, and hopefully wake up ten pounds lighter.

Goodnight xo

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