Started out the day pretty early. My body doesn’t seem to like sleeping in anymore.

I got myself together and applied to a job. After that, I had a phone interview with DigiPrint for the Studio Intern position that I applied to a few days ago. Well, fuck me! They didn’t even want me for that job. It was such a strange phone call. I spoke with Megan, who was the girl I had originally met at the DigiPrint offices when I visited in January. You remember – the same day I got hit by a bus.

Anyway, Megan was giving me a rave review. She went on and on, telling me how much everyone in the office loved me, how the C.E.O. wanted me to be a bigger part of their team, and how they thought I was such a natural born leader. Maybe Megan knew how unimpressed I was with the Toronto Fashion Week gig last month and was trying to save face. I don’t know. Either way, the compliments were appreciated. Thanks for the ego boost, Megan.

However, in an annoying turn of events, Megan then admitted that DigiPrint was going to hire an engineering student as a co-op placement for the job. Megan flat out told me it was because DigiPrint would get a government subsidy, which I had pretty much expected at that point.

It turned out that the real reason Megan reached out, was because DigiPrint had recently purchased a new laser printer. They’re going to start using the machine for more events, and wanted to make me the laser cutter master.

“Eventually,” Megan added, “The idea is to have you running those laser printer events alone.”

Sounds great, right? Not quite. As I asked more questions about the position, it became very clear that this would be a temporary/sporadic work situation. No set schedule, no guarantee of hours, and definitely no benefits. Listen. It’s obviously not ideal. But, I’m also not in a position to turn down a potential work opportunity. I told Megan, “Bring it on!” and thanked her for the consideration. That was that. We’ll see what happens.

Seriously, though. Who do I have to fuck to land a full-time job in this city? I need benefits. At this point, I’m looking more and more like Gollum every day. I need my goddamn teeth cleaned. I need a massage! I look and feel like Quasimodo, and that is not okay.

Oh, hell. Speaking of who I have to fuck, that reminds me of a vivid dream I had last night. I actually just had to go back and look through my messages to see if it was real or not. I dreamt that Anderson Evans from The Toronto Film Group was messaging me through Instagram or Facebook, and was flirting with me. To be honest, the dream was probably sparked by what Anderson had told me during our karaoke night last month, which was so crazy.

Anderson is married. He’s been with his husband, Ethan – who also works at The Toronto Film Group – for basically decades. Ethan is great. A super nice guy. Anyway, the night we were all at karaoke, Anderson was telling me about a trip he and Ethan once took to Vegas when they were my age.

Halfway through the story, Anderson started talking about how he was going to other guys’ hotel rooms and hooking up with them.

“Weren’t you there with Ethan?” I asked him, confused.

“It’s 2016, Kurt!” Anderson joked. “Be more open minded!”

Anderson wasn’t offended or anything, but I just found it so – wow! Okay! Jesus, I was just wondering. I keep forgetting that half of the gay population is in an open relationship.

That was the back story. I swear, I have a point.

In last night’s dream, Anderson was messaging me. He said that he was out drinking, and wanted me to spend the night with him. However, he was conflicted given our work relationship. All I remember after that was me changing my underwear and leaving the Witch Cave. Nothing else. I woke up very horny. I would sleep with Anderson for sure.

Now, back to my day. After that anti-climactic DigiPrint phone call, I continued getting my life together. While reading some emails and getting a few, “Are you fucking kidding me’s!” out of my system, I remembered that today was Thursday. That meant there were drop-in hours at the Hassle Free Clinic. Given my track record with dating, I’m now convinced that Bryan has some sort of infection that he has passed on to me. Naturally, my crazy ass thought that today would be a good time to have everything checked out. At this point, I actually hope that I have a STD. I know that’s sick to say, but it would give me an easy out with Bryan.

I walked to the Hassle Free from the Witch Cave. After putting my name on the waitlist and avoiding any and all eye contact in that God-awful waiting room, I finally saw the doctor. We did some fairly comprehensive testing, and then began to look through my chart to follow-up on my last visit in January.

Low and behold, the tests from January revealed that I never had the chlamydia Logan asked me to get tested for. So, that tells me two things: A) Logan is an asshole for putting me through that – but, we already knew that – and B) Logan obviously picked it up from whatever cock(s) he was sucking during the three weeks that we were apart. Great. I should have the results from today’s tests in about two weeks.

After getting poked and prodded at the Hassle Free, I visited a music production company, which I had applied to the other day. I spoke with the receptionist, forced my resume on her, and she promised me that she would pass it on to the lady who was hiring for the position. Fingers crossed.

Honestly, hand delivering an application like that has to count for something. Right? I doubt there are many people making personal visits to the companies they apply to. At this point, I’ll try anything to set myself apart from the herd. I walked back to the Witch Cave from the music company. After some lunch and a short nap, I went to the gym and did my thing.

Today was Connor’s birthday. The plan was for our group of friends to go out for drinks this evening at the Shangri-La Hotel to celebrate. Given the funk I’ve been in, I was quite intent on bailing tonight. I had absolutely no desire to leave my apartment. However, I’m already ditching Connor this weekend for Nicky’s birthday dinner with all of the girls. Well, it’s not really ditching. I’m just splitting my time. Either way, I figured I would show face tonight and avoid World War III.

Alright. It’s time for a serious question: Who in the hell thinks that “drinks at the Shangri-La Hotel” is reasonable group birthday outing? I understand that it’s Connor’s special day. And I’d do just about anything for that boy. But, you can’t honestly expect everyone to be able to afford a night of $20 cocktails. Can you? To make matters worse, I am at least two years older than every member of that friend group. So, yes. It’s ridiculous. Although, I’ll be honest. It’s not so much that we were doing expensive drinks at the Shangri-La, as it was me being insecure about the fact that everyone I know is at least 47 laps ahead of me in the career game. They can afford $20 drinks. I can’t. It’s embarrassing.

After reading a bit at the Witch Cave, having a couple glasses of wine (and two tequila shots), and getting a little silly in my bathroom with Britney Spears, I walked over to the Shangri-La and paid my dues. Literally. My bill was $50 after tax and tip for two drinks. Two drinks!

I struggled to keep up with the group’s conversation tonight. I felt as though I wasn’t connecting with them. I suppose that’s why I don’t feel bad about skipping out on Connor’s Saturday night birthday celebrations. Truth be told, I would drop everything to spend more time with Natasha and Kate. Those opportunities are so rare to begin with.

I love my gay friends. I really do. We are able to talk about things that my girlfriends might not fully understand. That being said, one of the more noticeable differences between the groups is that the boys openly talk shit about one another. All the time. As much as I try to not get involved, I know how easy it is for me to get caught up in the drama and deliver my own sassy comments. And it bothers me to no end. I don’t want to be that Kurt. It’s such negative energy. Also, God only knows what’s being said about me when I’m not in the room. Dan didn’t make it to the Shangri-La tonight. The boys ripped him apart. It was upsetting to be around.

When I got back to the Witch Cave tonight, I decided it would be a great idea to continue drinking. Hey, I just spent $50 on two cocktails. I needed to keep my buzz going! So, I did four shots of tequila and had two beers in bed. I also re-downloaded Grindr and Tinder, talked to a bunch of guys on both apps, drunkenly messaged a stranger on Instagram, texted Dylan in San Francisco, and posted an Instagram video. Finally, I set my alarm and now I’m passing out. I’m wasted.

Goodnight xo