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

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December 3

December 3

Given that today was Saturday, I naturally slept in as late as possible this morning. Despite not drinking anything last night, I still woke up with a hangover (weed) and headache (delayed caffeine consumption). Following a full clean of the Witch Cave, I made breakfast and then proceeded to spend the next four hours working from my bed.

Taking a sigh of relief after a decent amount of writing, I smoked weed and masturbated. In typical fashion, I got too high and needed to calm the fuck down. Considering I could barely run last night at the gym, I decided to skip my workout today. It was Saturday. Let me live! Instead, I opted to throw on 17 layers of clothing and venture pon de streets to see all of the Christmas decorations currently dominating the city. Of course, such a trek would not be complete without the musical accompaniment of Mariah Carey’s Christmas catalogue.

Ugh. Speaking of that, my Mariah Carey obsession is in full swing. Could it be at its peak right now? I know it’s bad when I start telling myself to shut the fuck up about Mimi. It’s as if I can hear people getting bored with me, but I can’t stop talking about her. Where I’m really trying to tone down my passion is on dates. It bothers me when people think I’ve got a one-track mind. As if I couldn’t possibly enjoy more than one thing. I am more than a Mariah Carey fan, you turds. I really do need to keep myself in check this month, though. With the Queen of Christmas fucking everywhere at this time of year, it’s very easy to go overboard.

After I had worn off most of my high, I picked up a post-bar burrito at Chipotle. I had planned on indulging after tonight’s festivities, but that burrito lasted about five minutes after I got home. I devoured the entire thing, along with a bag of chips and cup of guacamole. It should come as no surprise that I began to feel very sick afterwards.

Not wanting to look (even more) like a beached whale, I knew what I had to do. Walking into the bathroom, I ended up forcing myself to vomit. It didn’t even work, though! I had waited too long after eating. My starved stomach had already commenced its burrito demolition. Goddamn it.

Although tonight was supposed to be an outing with the New York City group, everyone but Dan and I bailed on the plans. To be honest, that was perfectly fine by me. Dan came over to the Witch Cave, and we drank and caught up while listening to Mariah. After a few hours, we took an Uber to Dundas Street West and Dovercourt Road for a wild and fun pop-up party. Actually, the event was hosted by the same guy who DJ’s the Gladstone’s annual Celine Dion party. We arrived at the mostly empty bar fairly early, but ended up seeing a lot of familiar faces – good and bad – throughout the night.

First on the list was Stefan. Lest we forget, this is the asshole who sent me that offensive, “I’m looking to make out with someone,” text back in September – after he had been pursuing me for two months. Oy. We ran into one another while I was ordering a drink at the bar.

“How are you?” Stefan asked.

I wasn’t wasting any time.

“Good, thanks,” I said. “Finding a lot of guys to make out with here?”

Needless to say, Stefan was quite taken aback by my blunt confrontation. We kept going back and forth with the same arguments.

“It was a joke,” Stefan said.

“What kind of a joke is that?” I asked. “It wasn’t funny. It was rude.”

Following an alarming amount denial, Stefan left for the dance floor with his friends. About fifteen minutes later, he returned to the bar area alone and approached me.

“I understand how that could have been rude,” Stefan said.

That was the best I got out of Stefan. While there was never a formal apology, I wasn’t exactly expecting one. I told Stefan that I would catch up with him later in the evening, but never ended up finding the guy. When I sent Stefan a text asking where he had vanished to, he said he was having an early night. Personally, I was not. On the contrary, I was getting more fucked up by the minute.

With all of Toronto’s gay population at this party, I was really trying to make up for my previous antics from last weekend at The Beaver. However, I’m still me. There was only so much I could do.

Lucas Ingraldi was also in attendance tonight. It was the first time I had seen him since the summer. I barely remember what we talked about. I was too distracted. Whenever I talk to Lucas, I can’t get the image of his foreskin out of my head from that time he changed in front of me at Hanlan’s Point. As much as I am anti-circumcision, I still think uncircumcised dicks look like the subway worm alien from Men in Black.

Speaking of The Beaver, there was a third character at tonight’s party – Bryce. This was the same guy who I made use his pants to wipe down a wet picnic table bench for me last weekend. Bryce was really drunk. I always remember when someone is more turnt than I am. It’s a rarity, so it often stands out.

Anyway, I tried hitting on Bryce a lot. I had dropped a hint on him earlier in the night via text, while Dan and I were drinking at my apartment. Even though Bryce said he wasn’t going to the party, he still showed up. I actually ended up hitting it off really well with the friend he brought along. Unfortunately, that same girl basically told me to stop wasting my time with Bryce. Apparently, he’s is totally clueless when it comes to dating. Oy. Not another one. Although, am I much better?

After socializing with a few more queers, I escaped to a nearby 7-Eleven with Bryce to get some cash. From there, Bryce vanished into the night. The guy was absolutely hammered. By this point, I’d probably consumed a few too many beers myself. The night was far from over, though.

Around 1 a.m., Dan and I decided to migrate a few blocks across town to Phillip’s place. He was having another small house party, and had invited me earlier in the night. We walked there, which was probably a good thing for me. This entire part of my night is very hazy. Fuck.

I don’t remember much about Phillip’s place. The walk across town was abusively long. Although I’m not sure if I drank at the house, I definitely smoked some of the weed that was being passed around. There were a lot more guests than Phillip’s last party, but I remember a lot less of the night.

At some point, Dan had disappeared. Phillip wanted me to sleep over, but there was no way in hell I was going to wake up on his basement bedbug couch. I took a cab home instead.

I wish I was soberer at the pop-up party. Not just because of last week, but because there were so many guys there. Don’t be fucking thirsty for guys, though! If I’m not thirsty for guys, I’m thirsty for drinks. Insatiable thirst. I’m fucking parched.

I want to fuck Colin.

Goodnight xo

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