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

December 11

December 11

Not that I was OOC last night, but I definitely needed some extra sleep to wear off the booze this mornting. After lounging fairly late, I rolled out of bed, cleaned up both myself and my hotel room, made coffee, and immediately started on my Amphitheatre article.

Colin and I had been planning all week to hang out today. When I checked in with him this afternoon, we decided that said hang out would take place around 6 p.m. tonight. This was perfect for moi, as the article was taking so damn long. Nevertheless, I finished it!

Just before 4 p.m., I punched out the last chunk of my first ever writing assignment. Although I still have the horrible introduction to write, the piece is done. I am really, really proud of it. It's also really fucking long, though. I have a feeling Amphitheatre might make a few cuts. Oh, well. Better to deliver more than necessary and show what I'm capable of than to make a bad impression. I'm happy with the writing. Overall, that's what matters most to me.

In an attempt to impress Colin, I embarked on an abusive schlep through a literal blizzard for a bottle of wine and a few snacks. Colin had suggested me going over to his place, but I was in no damn mood to make the commute to his apartment, which is located on the East Coast of Canada. Also, how often do you get to have a date in a hotel suite?

Colin arrived at my room around 6:30 p.m. At first, he was acting a bit strange. I couldn't put my finger on it, but the vibe reminded me of how his mood changed so quickly after brunch last weekend. I thought Colin was going to remain in his social bubble all night, but he quickly turned around after hopping on the bed with a glass of wine. All was good. We watched an episode of Planet Earth II, then attempted to sift through the bleak cable selection so graciously provided to us by the Hilton Toronto.

As we know, it's been a dry few months for me. I was itching for something to happen tonight. I wasn't expecting full-on penetration, but it wasn't exactly off the table. Truth be told, I have passed that whole, "I want to wait," phase. I don't care about fucking on the first date anymore. Listen. If something is meant to be, it shouldn't matter when I sleep with the person. Furthermore, if I am going to end up in a long-term situationship with someone, I want to make sure all of their parts are in working order before I commit. As evidenced by the amount of time I have wasted over the years, I'm beginning to think those test drives should start happening sooner rather than later.

Anyway. Moving on.

I was laying down the moves pretty hard tonight. I kept inching my way closer to Colin. At one point, I even touched his thigh. I mean, come on! If that's not flirting, I don't know what is. Touching someone's leg is the universal, non-verbal communication cue that screams, "Please take your pants off!" Not to mention, we were on a fucking bed this whole time. I say that with a sense of irony – not that it was a "fucking bed" made for fornicating. Although, it was a king-size mattress. Do those really have any other purpose? Colin responded to my advances by putting his hand on mine a couple of times. When I looked over at the clock, it was 10 p.m. and we still hadn't even kissed. That needed to change.

I put my hand on Colin's leg again.

Colin put his hand on mine.

I looked at Colin.

Colin made eye contact with me.

I dove right in.

Over the course of the next hour, we made out quite heavily. It was great. Colin is a fantastic kisser, and you know how I feel about that. If a guy is lacking talent in the lips/tongue department, it's not going to work out. Fortunately, Colin passed the test. He also became the 900th person to tell me that I'm an incredible kisser.

After a while, I began to make the next move. Slowly moving my hand underneath Colin's sweater, I began to feel his muscular chest. Colin stopped me.

"I like to take things slow," he said. "I'm shy."

Well, no shit! It took me almost four hours to get a goddamn kiss out of you! I'm not going to lie. I wanted more. I mean, I washed my ass before Colin came over. Whatever. It is what it is. In fact, I remembered what Phillip's friend Tommy told me this summer about guys who get nervous. You have to downplay their anxiety. Make it seem as though their flaccidity is no big deal. If you can, maybe even guarantee them another opportunity in the future. Doing any of the above calms the guy down and puts less pressure on them.

Obviously, I told Colin that taking things slow was fine with me. In the interest of consent, I also confirmed with Colin that what we were currently doing was still alright with him.

"Trust me," Colin said, "It's great."

We continued to make out, pausing sporadically to watch a bleak Phillip Seymour Hoffman movie about a guy with a gambling problem – featuring Minnie Driver with God-awful '80s bangs. I also could have done without the incessant St. Jude's Children's Hospital cancer commercials. Talk about a boner killer. Around 11 p.m., Colin said he needed to go. After another half hour of kissing, he eventually left. I'll see him again this week.

I enjoyed tonight! I'm also interested in taking things slow. I mean that more in the sense of a relationship, though. When it comes to sex, I am fine to bounce right on in. I also keep thinking about what my future holds in 2017. How I should handle Colin? Who cares! Enjoy the moment. Focus on yourself. This is a nice bonus on the side, which seems to hold some sort of promise. Have fun! Stay focused, and keep your ass clean just in case. I would like to be penetrated before the end of this year. Lord knows 2016 has fucked me enough. I might as well enjoy it one last time.

Goodnight xo