Hi, I'm Kurt. A binge-drinking, pill-popping disco diva with a heart of platinum and an appetite for self-destruction.
Welcome to Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2).
Adapted from a collection of nightly...
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July 8
This morning was the same struggle as yesterday. An hour and a half of pressing the snooze button, only to jump out of bed, throw my head under the bathtub faucet, and run out the door.
Work was terrible, as usual. Another day manning the front desk, not having it with anyone I encountered throughout the day. On a positive note, I have become much more familiar with everything that goes on inside The Clubhouse. As a result, I'm able to answer questions and requests from behind the front desk with more independence. That confidence means I'm not forced to interact with my co-workers as often, which is something I'm quite thankful for.
The five-o'clock hour was hell. It was Friday, so members drank for free at the club's weekly After Hours event. Usually, I am the one doing the drinking. Not this week, as I was chained to the front desk. Fuckers. At least I wasn't working until 3 a.m. tonight, as I was originally scheduled. By the way, that will never happen. God help me find a new job before I am voluntold to spend a Friday night at The Clubhouse's front desk.
I fooled around a lot on the internet today. No more Twitter porn, but some online shopping, chatting with friends, and lots of social media. Really productive stuff. I did some personal writing as well, but it was hard to get into a creative groove when the phone was ringing every three minutes. How rude!
I couldn't stop thinking about PW today. I'm becoming obsessed with him. The infatuation has to stop. I sent PW a thank-you message before bed last night, and I woke up to his response this morning, which put a smile on my face. I also love the fact that his name is Phillip. It makes me feel like a Disney Princess. I know, it's gay as all hell. But, I like it.
I have to see PW again. We were messaging with one another this afternoon, and I asked him when that might be. PW said that he was busy this weekend, but that sometime next week would be good. I suggested we aim for Tuesday night, and to let me know if his weekend plans changed. Yeah. I'm that desperate.
It sucked when PW said he was booked this weekend. I really want to see him again. PW is literally all I think about. However, as I am typing this right now, I'm realizing that it's fucking Friday. The weekend is two days long. It's not exactly like I'm waiting an eternity. I just want to see him again! I want to learn more about PW. I want to talk to PW. I want to make out with PW. I want to be in a relationship with PW.
Oh, my God. I am a fucking lunatic! This is crazy! This is my exact problem. I come on too strong, because I want the end result right away. When guys do that to me, it's so unappealing. I really need to cool it.
Okay. Let's let PW make the next move. We're staying quiet. Not a word, Kurt! We've already said too much as it is. We should have said we were busy this weekend, too. You know, to make us seem more in demand. Drive up our stock market value, etc.
Back to reality, I took a long walk home from work at 6 p.m. I stopped by the mall to scam some samples from Sephora in an attempt to fix whatever the fuck is happening on my face, picked up some candy – a.k.a. the reason for whatever the fuck is happening on my face – then settled in at the Witch Cave and watched TV.
