July 17
Was last night a dream? I was hoping so, but then I rolled over in bed and saw Lauryn sprawled out on the couch, covering herself with the Scottish poncho I stole from Walt Disney World. Fuck. Here we go.
The biggest problem with all of this drama – for me, at least – was that I was in the direct line of fire. On one side I had Phillip, who was no doubt fuming at this point. On the other side I had Lauryn, who was now staying at my house and who I was going to have to try and console. How do you use your standard "men are scum" lines to cheer up your girlfriend when the man in question is your brother? It wasn't going to work, nor should it have. I didn't think that either party was in the right.
As far as I was concerned, Lauryn was at fault because she had contradicted her views and opinions on sex. You can't tell someone you're sleeping with that you believe in free sexual exploration and multiple partners for all, and then get upset when that person takes said action(s) upon themselves. On Phillip's side, I thought it was in extremely poor taste of him to have another girl in his room in front of Lauryn. There was a history of affection and sexual activity between the two of them. It was slimy.
Lauryn spent the better part of the morning bitching about Phillip, which was very uncomfortable for me. The biggest thing Lauryn was upset about – or at least, one of the bigger things – was that Phillip had grabbed her arm when he told her to leave. I didn't see that happen, because I had purposely removed myself from the verbal throw down that was happening inside the house. I'm not saying it didn't happen, but how was I supposed to respond to that kind of accusation?
In my attempt to console Lauryn, I caught myself about to share some information on Phillip. I quickly shut that down. I felt like I was betraying my brother. Do I know if Phillip grabbed Lauryn? I have no idea. Either way, it wasn't my place to comment on it. I shouldn't have been put in the middle like that.
I told Lauryn that she could vent about whatever she wanted, but that I couldn't comment on it anymore. After that, Lauryn calmed down and didn't bring up Phillip much again. Although, she did take some of the videos we made this morning and put them on her Instagram with captions directed towards Phillip, which was unacceptable. I would only learn about this later, as I wasn't scrolling through my social media feed in anticipation of my brother's inevitable hate mail.
As I walked around the Witch Cave – picking up the stray wigs and empty glasses of alcohol that always seem to find their way to the coffee table whenever I have a friend over – I noticed the bottle of champagne that Lauryn had taken back from Phillip last night. I completely overdid it on those new gin drinks yesterday. In addition to the diabetes I was sure I now had, I was also suffering from a pounding headache and a hangover that desperately needed curing.
"Have you ever heard of the hair of the dog?" I asked Lauryn.
"Like, when you have a drink to cure a hangover?" she asked.
YOU ARE READING
Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)
Non-FictionHi, 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...