Today was the first day in a while that I actually woke up before my alarm. I love my bed so much. I can’t wait to make sweet, sweet love to it this weekend.
After my usual morning routine, I settled into my office around 10 a.m. There was a lot of fucking work to do. The last time I was at my desk, I sent out over 60 emails to various members. Now, the responses had come in. It was 1 p.m. by the time I finally looked up from my computer. Following my email blitz, there wasn’t much other work to do.
Big Bird had a tour and some meetings today. With Bossypants out of the office, I also dipped out to grab some tacos for lunch. I had been craving them since the beginning of the month, and it was like biting into a piece of heaven. Glorious. Back at The Clubhouse, I ate my salad and continued my standard juggle of GIF searching and actual administration work. The usual.
I talked to Cooper from New York City a fair amount today. I don’t know how to peg Cooper on the “friend to lover” scale. Apart from the many emotional reasons why I wish I didn’t get so messed up on Fire Island, I probably could have made some interesting connections with the boys there. I mean, it was a gay paradise after all. I completely missed the boat – both literally and figuratively.
That’s always the case when I drink too much. I’m partly upset because of the stupid decisions I made – i.e., leaving my phone and bag on an island – but also because I have missed so many opportunities to meet people. I’m not even talking about hook-ups or guys to fuck. I’m sure there have been so many missed networking opportunities as well. Hell, I could make my own Missed Connections sub-page on Craigslist for every person I don’t remember meeting or talking to. I have no doubt that this is a big part of why I am single.
First of all, why would someone want to date a complete mess like me? Not only that, but I can’t exactly talk to guys when I am that intoxicated. I kind of enjoy the fact that my over-indulgence didn’t bother Cooper. Given the outcome of my day on Fire Island, Cooper must have seen a very messed up side of me. Yet, the guy continues to message me. It’s nice. Maybe I’m not such a screw up after all. Well, I am. But, maybe I’m not a complete write-off. That’s what I mean. Cooper is going to be in Montreal when I’m there for Kate’s upcoming bachelorette weekend. Even though he’s going to be visiting with another guy, I definitely want to meet up with him. Damn it. At the same time, I don’t know if I need any extra romantic tangents right now. A new friend would be nice. It seems I may have found one in Cooper.
The day progressed. I continued to download GIFs of The Nanny while sending the odd work-related email. At a certain point, I had completely checked out.
I really want to go to Hanlan’s Point tomorrow. I spent a good part of my day sending out blatant invitations to everyone I know, desperately trying to convince someone to join me. I even reached out to Stefan, but he can’t go because he’ll be up north at a cottage. Fuck these people and their cottages! Only because I never get invited to them, though. Nonetheless, that was a step forward with Stefan. We’ll see if he makes a move after this, as I’m getting tired of our mundane daily messaging. I don’t want a fucking pen pal – especially one I’ve never met. Hopefully Stefan will take the next step.
Alright. I’m writing this thing in bed. It’s 12:41 a.m. right now, and one of the new servers at The Clubhouse is messaging me on Facebook to go out with him in the Village for drinks. His name is Santos, and he’s most definitely gay. I already told Santos that I couldn’t go out tonight, but now he’s suggesting this coming Sunday as an alternative. I’ve just told Santos again that I can’t, but he’s continuing to push for it. Is he drunk right now? It’s almost 1-fucking-a.m. Also, I don’t like to socialize with work people. It’s weird. Not only that, but I don’t want to drink. I told Santos I was going to AA so that he would leave me alone. He just suggested a juice bar. Girl, take the hint! I see these people 40 hours a week. I don’t want to spend any more time with you!
I avoided Stella like the plague today. No altercations.
Big Bird had a meeting with Lawrence this afternoon. When she came out of his office after a few hours, she told me that things were going to be fine with my time off for Vegas. It seemed like Big Bird wanted to say more about the matter, but couldn’t find the words. As if she wanted me to know that a big exception was being made for me. Okay, thanks. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: I don’t care if you fire me. Big Bird and Lawrence are also discussing how to move forward with me not wanting to work at the desk, but at least the switch-up has been confirmed. No more front fucking desk! No more Lucky Charms! No more Stella! Fuck, yeah!
I ate like a pig today, sneaking all the food I could find throughout The Clubhouse. That being said, today’s binging was still better than any other day this past week. At 5 p.m., Big Bird and I went to After Hours together to socialize with members. Despite my boss offering me a drink multiple times, I actively avoided any and all booze. I know the free drinks are part of my “benefits plan,” but I think avoiding alcohol at work from now on is a very smart move.
Big Bird flew the coop at 5:30 p.m. I spent the last half hour of my day in the office with the door closed while on the phone with Naomi. She’s decided to fly in from Vancouver tomorrow for a very short visit so that she can see Zoe while she’s home from Australia. It’s a total surprise, too. Amazing! Zoe is going to freak out, which I love the idea of. Naomi and I talked about the visit for a while, and at 6 p.m. I was out of The Clubhouse like the fucking Roadrunner. Adios, bitches!
Despite some recent foot pain, I walked to the gym after work and did my thing. I upped my running to 10km, but I was limping through most of it. For God’s sake, I just want to be back to normal! The exercise was still a good release for me, though. I really need to get back into my routine. Whenever I maintain a steady gym schedule, it’s much easier to keep my eating under control. Right now, my appetite is fucking insane.
I picked up some groceries on my way back to the Witch Cave, as I’m still going to the beach tomorrow. I don’t care if nobody else will go with me. I’m fucking going! This weekend is going to be my last chance all summer, and I am not missing it. I’m sure I’ll see people I know, but I also plan on just sleeping and relaxing all day by my lonesome. It’s going to be glorious.
I’m really excited for the weekend. I can’t wait to connect with my old friends. As I’ve said before, nothing makes me happier than being with people who I have a long history and great connection with. It’s a very comforting feeling to be able to pick up and go with those types of relationships.
I’m going to look like a beached whale pon de island tomorrow, but it is what it is. Even after a great workout, I still couldn’t exercise the slightest bit of self-control when I got home tonight. I swallowed a pizza bun whole, and smashed an entire bag of chips. Fuck. I have a healthy lunch packed for tomorrow, but the reality is that I’m going to need a week-long stomach virus to lose the amount of weight I want to.
I’m so fucking screwed. This foot surgery thing toe-tally fucked me over. I was at such a good weight before all of this happened. I looked fucking great. Now, it’s all gone to shit. I look like expired Jell-O. I know it’s superficial, but keeping my weight under control contributes to a lot of my happiness. When things with my body are the way they are now, I feel very stressed. That’s why I keep eating. At the risk of sounding like Fat Bastard from Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, it’s a vicious cycle. I eat because I’m unhappy – and stressed – and I’m unhappy – and stressed – because I eat. I need to fucking relax. I need a massage. Oh, God. I need a massage! I also need to go to bed.
Goodnight xo
I took this photo while walking to the gym. I don’t understand sportsing fans. Front Street, Toronto
“Fat Bastard’s Vicious Cycle” - Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me