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

November 21

November 21

Winter reared its ugly head and sub-zero temperatures today. Once again, I was not ready for it.

Despite a slumber that lasted approximately 12 hours – if we include the brief interruption when I woke up from my nap – I still couldn't muster the strength to get out of bed this morning. Knowing that you are going to get up, make food, get dressed, and battle rush hour transit traffic, only to then sit in a dark office across from a complete loon – a nickname I have no doubt Big Bird would be content with – it leaves you feeling less than motivated to toss aside the covers.

I want a job that's going to have me waking up every morning, feeling ready to take on the world. An all-consuming passion, which would have me staying up until sunrise to work on my goals. That's what I want. I'm sure as hell not finding it in my cage on the second floor of The Clubhouse.

On my way to work, I thought about RX. I know, I know. Not a great way to start out the day. It's different, though. I'm trying to remind myself of why the two of us not being together is for the best.

I was thinking about my private Twitter account. How the last five years have basically been a semi-narration on the entire RX situation. I thought about all of the stuff I've written about RX over the years. The things I've said. How I've described and portrayed the guy in so many different lights – positive, but typically negative, if I'm being honest. I thought, "RX would never want to get back together with me, anyway." I guess that sometimes you say things out of pain. I know that I often villainize RX, in an attempt to help me deal with the fact that our entire situation is a result of my doing. Anyway. I digress.

Today was a bit hellish. As much as my quiet Friday was a treat, the micromanaging Big Bird had now returned. The woman needed a full update on everything I had worked on. Why does this only happen when Big Bird goes away? What about the other 99% of the time when I do fuck all during the day, and she doesn't say a word? Just as with last week, Big Bird then started going over more jobs for me to do. Begrudgingly, I started on them. Fortunately, one of those tasks took me the majority of the day to complete, so the afternoon went by pretty fast.

4:53 p.m. rolled around, and I was out of there. I've discovered you can clock out at that exact minute, and still get a quarter hour of pay. Genius. I didn't even say goodbye to Big Bird. It was quittin' time. Big Bird knew I wasn't sticking around for anyone. Big Bird also knows that I'm not participating in The Clubhouse's Secret Santa gift exchange. I made it very clear this afternoon, in front of multiple co-workers, that I do not want to be involved. I don't have money to spend on people I don't really care about, nor do I want a cheap serving bowl and bag of grandma candy from Dollarama as my gift. Secret Santa is always a game I seem to lose. From now on, I am taking proactive measures to ensure that I will never end up with some lame-ass tchotchke again.

I've been toying with the idea of taking a break from the gym every five days. I've been finding it very hard to do, though. Sure, when I am on my fifth day – i.e., today – I am ready for a break as soon as I put my running shoes on. Once I finish my routine, use the sauna, shower, go home, make dinner, and eat a box of those fucking chicken wings again, it's different. That's around the time I realize that taking a day off from the gym would result in a guaranteed twelve-pound weight gain on each of my thighs.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened tonight. I came home, unpacked my bag, and immediately started on laundry. After some ice cream – or whatever the fuck a "dessert treat" is – and cheese and crackers, I went in on those fucking chicken nuggets again. Yesterday at the grocery store was bad. I bought a fair amount of stuff, but I also precioused about $40 worth of food. That's probably more than I ever have when it comes to food. For reference, that's two boxes of chicken, a pizza, and a $13 brick of cheese. I'm going to be the fattest poor person I know.

After my laundry finished, I proceeded to eat my food in bed while chatting with a couple of boys online. Nothing substantial, though. I'm just not all that interested in being a pen pal with someone. At this point, I have opened myself up to the idea of a date. As in, I'm willing to go on one. However, someone needs to ask me. I don't want to pursue anyone. I don't want to chase. I don't want to court. Step up, ask me out, and let's do something. If you're just going to message me here and there? I'm not interested. Worse still, some guys can't even do that.

I consider myself a pretty good conversationalist. I can usually find something in common with most people, and I have developed some very refined, "How about you?" skills. In other words, I always reciprocate the question. After all, I already know my answer. It's the guy's answer that I want. A good way to test if digital guys are worth your time is to answer their questions without an immediate, "How about you?" or, "Yourself?" tagged on at the end. Give it a beat. The idea is that the guy is forced to react to your message before getting into their own answer. After that, then you ask them the same question. When having concerns about a guy's communication skills tonight, I tried that on him. Sure enough, I never heard from him again. Tale as old as fucking time.

Still, the online dating stuff has me thinking a lot about my future. Of all things, why did it have to be Grindr that made me re-evaluate my life? Honestly, I think it's because I'm being reminded of the lack of prospects in this city. I also think it's the fact that my personality type might be better suited for a life of solitude. Not, you know, like, locked away in a tower or anything like that. But, a life of being single. Okay. It's a little dramatic. It's been on my mind.

I don't like to compromise. That's what I thought about while getting ready this morning. When I was with RX, I wasn't willing to compromise on a lot of things. Even I know that's not good for a relationship. I was going to blame my selfishness on having been single for so long, but I think I've always been like this. When I want something, I make it happen. Nobody is going to stop me. I will get what I want. For better, or for much worse. On the other hand, maybe I just haven't had that much practice with successful, long-term relationships? As selfish as I can be, I also know that I have a lot of love inside of me to give. Perhaps that side of me would have a chance to develop within a relationship. You know, if one were to ever happen.

All of that being said, I'm not sold. Why can't I be selfish, and go for what I want right now? I don't know what comes first – my behavior, or my relationship status? The fact of the matter is that I am single. I get to make the decisions that are best – and sometimes worse – for moi. That's part of the trade-off, right? It's funny. I can get so caught up in what I don't have, that I often forget what I do have. I become fixated on what is lacking in my life, and don't pause to appreciate how fortunate I am. I love being single.

My dry hands are cracking. This winter is already kicking my ass. I think I need to call it a night. After laundry, I masturbated and did all the dishes. What an exhilarating evening.

Oh, one more thing. I also responded to an email from Amphitheatre Entertainment about meeting with their creative team. I am terrified. Why? Because this always happens when I have something planned. I really want California to happen for me. Now, after almost a year of no (good) opportunities, I am going to meet with the Vice President of Creative Content at Amphitheatre Entertainment.

I want to make sure that I am taking advantage of every opportunity I can. Sometimes, I don't know how to choose between them.

Goodnight xo