Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)

November 16

November 16

Texting your ex is a lot like masturbating. You want it, you finally cave and do it, it feels good while you're doing it, and then it ends – often abruptly – and you're left feeling disgusted with yourself and reaching for a box of Kleenex.

As usual, I sat on the edge of my bed this morning for a few minutes before I took a deep breath and hoisted myself into another day of Clubhouse hell. Once at work, I did my thing. Big Bird continued to complain about how much work she had to do, while simultaneously texting on her phone and then leaving the office for 20 minutes to buy toothpaste. Oy.

In a fortunate turn of events, I had an actual excuse to leave my office today. Emma and I are collaborating on some graphic design work, so we spent about an hour and a half working in her office. Of course, I use the term "working" loosely. Mostly, we ate lunch while talking an endless amount of smack about The Clubhouse. It's a shitty feeling to sit there knowing I'm being so negative when, in fact, I specifically told myself during my first week on the job that I didn't want to get involved in office politics and drama. I can't help it, though. In a way, that sort of venting is almost cathartic.

If it weren't for Lucy and Emma – both of whom I feel truly empathize with my Big Bird struggles – I probably would have quit by now. They are the only two people in the building who I feel as though I can have a genuine conversation with. Well, as genuine as I can be. They won't know I'm quitting until the day I hand in my notice. That's a secret I'm not giving up. Too risky!

At 5 p.m., I left work and met Phillip for dinner. Dad had given me free tickets for an advance screening of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and we were making an evening of it. Although I had considered inviting RX, I asked Phillip instead. Family first, after all. Mom said that we could go out to eat beforehand, and that the Casa Z fire insurance would cover it if I gave her the bill. That was a sweet deal, too.

Phillip and I had a really nice meal together. We talked about a variety of subjects, but mainly about what's happening in both of our romantic lives. Naturally, given my current combo situation of drought and abstinence, I didn't have much to say. Although, I couldn't help but bring up PW.

I didn't plan on talking about PW tonight, but I did make a small comment about how I was surprised to see him last Saturday. That prompted Phillip to divulge more information, and I finally expressed how upset the entire situation made me back in July. I didn't go full-on crazy about it, though. At the end of the day, I think the upset from that incident had to do with a lot of other things happening in my life at the time. Still, I made sure to let Phillip know how much it bothered me.

Apparently, PW is now seeing someone. See? It's all bullshit. People lie. Guys make you seem like the crazy one to avoid any fault of their own, when in reality, you're just punished for being an honest person. Listen. I'm not going to sit here and martyr myself. I'm no angel. PW just pisses me off, though. After dinner, I blocked him on Facebook – the final frontier. Bye, bitch.

Phillip and I arrived at the theater early to claim decent seats. Once settled, that's when I finally caved and messaged RX about the movie – mainly because I knew it was one of the rare texts that would guarantee me a response. Sure enough, I got one. Our conversation didn't last long, but that's mainly because the movie started and I put my phone away. I ended up telling RX that I was with Phillip, but that I was going to invite him. I had hoped that might've been a positive note. Right? I think that's fairly reasonable.

Well, when I got out of the movie – which was alright, albeit some disjointed plot lines and frustrating acting – I told RX that the film was good and that I would definitely see it again. To me, that was a blatant hint and also an opportunity for RX to respond, "Oh, well we can see it together!" Instead, RX said that he was going to see it at least ten times. That was it. Frustrated, I sent him a thumbs-up emoji. If I'm texting you a thumbs-up, it means I'm either genuinely content, or that I want you to go fuck yourself. I usually leave the interpretation up to the recipient.

It's 12 a.m. right now. I don't want to get into the reasons why I keep going down the RX rabbit hole. Could it be a part of my pride that I just don't want to succumb to? As if I couldn't possibly "lose" in this fucked up game we keep playing? I don't know. I need to get it together, though. For fuck's sake!

After the movie, Phillip and I said goodnight and parted ways. I walked home to burn off the Mexican buffet I had inhaled three hours earlier.

While talking to some guys online during my trek back to the Witch Cave, I continued to realize how awful this city is for men. I want to go where nobody knows my name. It's one of my favorite things to do. Actually, I'll be doing just that in one month. Holy shit! In exactly one month, I will be out of my job and will have just touched down in New York City for Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You show and a week of festive fun. I'm excited.

I'm also tired, and bloated. Mexican food, you got me again.

Goodnightxo