Let me just start with this: I didn’t nap today. I didn’t nap at home. I didn’t nap on the subway. I didn’t even nap under my desk at work. I’m still waiting on that fucking medal!
I woke up on time this morning, essentially running on fumes. Following my regular Witch Cave routine, I worked 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. through the usual assortment of Clubhouse bullshit. Big Bird is just a fucking nutcase. I find it hilarious, yet slightly troubling when I talk to Emma and Lucy about her. Without even mentioning some of Big Bird’s idiosyncrasies, they will give their own retelling of certain incidents. I’ll do the same, and it usually leaves us all going, “Oh, my God. Me too!”
Nothing worth reporting today. Big Bird continued to make stupid, hypocritical comments about me and everyone around her, when in reality she is the most inefficient, distracted, immature waste of an employee at The Clubhouse. Well, at least out of the people I work with. Stella the Witch, Hugo the Devil, and Niall the Fanta Head all come before her. Then, it’s Big Bird.
I left the office a little later than I would have liked today. Naturally, Big Bird loaded me with extra work during my last ten minutes after I had been twiddling my thumbs all afternoon. After that, I made my way to the gym for my standard workout.
There are three guys who I have such a gym crush on. I have been lusting over them since I started going to that gym about two years ago. I held the elevator door open for one of them today, but was so flustered that I forgot to strike up a conversation with him. I also realized afterwards that I didn’t wipe off my resting bitch face when he smiled at me. Now, he probably thinks I’m a huge asshole. Great. Fortunately, I think I’ve concocted a solution to this conundrum.
While listening to Lil’ Kim’s Hard Core album and doing my 1,500 sit-ups, I devised a plan. From now on, whenever I see a cute guy at the gym, I’m going to ask him if he went to Western University. It’s such an easy in, because:
Half of the guys living in Toronto’s Entertainment District probably did go to Western University.
It gives me an opportunity to ask their name.
It’s a completely brilliant plan! Unfortunately, I didn’t see my lover from the elevator again during my time at the gym. There will be other moments, though. Mark my words, I will be ready.
I ran, sauna’d, and showered. To squeeze in a bit more exercise and actually explore the city, I decided to walk home through the PATH and Eaton Centre. You know, instead of taking the same route home as I do every single day. It was alright. I keep wanting to be swept away by Toronto, but it doesn’t seem to be happening. I can’t tell if I’m disenchanted, depressed, hungry, or all of the above. Oh, God. I’m so fucking hungry.
Back at the Witch Cave, I had some rice pudding and a few spoonful’s of peanut butter while watching BoJack Horseman on Netflix. After that shame spiral, I wanted to rub one out before I tackled my resignation letter for The Store. I don’t know what made me think of it, but I ended up logging onto Manroulette. I then spent the next 45 minutes anonymously masturbating on webcam with other headless men until I came. Well, that was unexpected.
Nobody really knows this, but that’s what I did shortly before I came out of the closet in 2010. I still wasn’t sure what was going on inside of my head at that time. I knew I wasn’t straight, but things hadn’t fully clicked. I remember one experience quite vividly, actually.
Following a crazy, alcohol-fueled night out in the city, Natasha and Kate were passed out in their respective beds at their old apartment. Still wide awake, I went into their bathroom with my laptop and ended up masturbating with a guy on Chatroulette. That was my first sexual gay encounter. About a month later, while on my second Florida summer program, I was on the phone with Mom telling her that I was gay.
Anyway. Moving on.
I finished my resignation letter for The Store. It’s done! The thing ended up being three pages long. Although, after a final read-through, I realized that I didn’t even use formal terms to acknowledge my resignation, which was essentially the whole point of the letter. Oh, well.
I’ll be honest. I did get a little emotional while writing my letter tonight. I know I say this a lot, but as much as The Store got under my skin at times, the idea of leaving the company is really hard for me. I love it. One day, I think I’ll probably want to work for them again. As large and ridiculous as the company is, The Store is the only workplace where I really felt like I belonged. I was so passionate about it. The problem is that there’s no further opportunity for me with them in Canada. Maybe one day. For now, I want to stick to The Plan.
Fuck! Note to self: call Uncle Jack.
I finished my letter, and then started writing this journal entry. After half a paragraph, I got distracted by Manroulette again. I was back online, looking at more guys and rubbing another one out. Damn. Thank God this isn’t real roulette. If it were, I’d probably have gambled away all of my money by now.
In other news, there’s been a recent development on the family vacation front. Mom and Dad want to go somewhere for Thanksgiving, and I suggested Walt Disney World. Not surprisingly, they are almost 100% into the idea. That would be so amazing. I am really hoping this happens. I wouldn’t tell Big Bird the full story, though. Big Bird wouldn’t be too happy about giving me time off for a casual jaunt to Walt Disney World. However, if the trip was to “visit my Grandma for Thanksgiving,” I think she might be a bit more lenient. We’ll see. Story developing.
Still feeling shitty about the weight situation, but I’m working on it. Day by day, until eventually I have to stop eating for two weeks to shock my system into eating itself. Seems like a solid enough plan.
I’m tired. My dick also hurts from pulling a double shift tonight. I need to go to bed. As usual, it’s 1:30 a.m. despite me getting home at 9 p.m. Damn it.