I woke up at 7 a.m. with the intent of re-organizing my life, but ended up staying in bed until after 8 a.m. I didn’t want to leave my boyfriend(s) – a.k.a. my comforter/pillow combo.

Eventually, I made it to the gym. After a full workout, I raced back to the Witch Cave to gather my things for a day pon de beach. Along the way, I had a new key made for my upcoming house guests, picked up a new portable charger at Best Buy after mine disappeared on Fire Island, and stopped by the liquor store for some beer.

Freshly showered and packed at my apartment, I jumped back on the subway and made my way to the Harbourfront, where I caught the ferry with about 30 seconds to spare. I was finally on my way to Hanlan’s Point! This weekend was my last possible island moment of the summer. Nobody could/would go with me, so I decided to just go alone. Whatever. I needed it! Also, it’s not like I’m a stranger to doing things solo.

Covered in my usual layer of sweat, I set up shop on the sand and relaxed amidst a sea of strangers. I was really proud of myself, actually. A few years ago, you couldn’t have paid me to set foot on a beach with so many shirtless and/or naked gays. Now, I was going alone and sitting/swimming topless for hours on end. Not to mention, this comes at a time in my life when I’m fifteen pounds heavier than I want to be. So, I guess that’s good news? The silver lining is that somehow, I’ve managed to build up a decent amount of beach/body confidence – or at least found a way to give less fucks about it. Either way, I think it’s a good thing.

I’ll be honest. I was having some anxiety about drinking the beers I brought with me today. I didn’t want to get carried away, but I felt like they were calling my name from inside the cooler. Eventually, I cracked. And by that, I mean I cracked open a tall boy. It was so refreshing, but I promised myself I’d keep my boozing under control.

Being alone, I needed someone to watch my stuff while I swam. I asked the group of beefy hunks beside me keep an eye on my things, then proceeded to cool off in the water. When the guys asked the same of me later, obviously I said yes.

As my hunky neighbors abandoned their towels, one of the guys offered me his weed.

“If you want to smoke, just help yourself,” he said, pointing to a pipe and grinder full of the good stuff.

I ended up blazing while the guys were frolicking in the water. Twice. Mary Jane hit me hard. This was no Backyardigans! I was really fucking high. At one point, my anxiety came back full force. I was worried that I had pushed myself over the limit again, and I was really upset about it. I decided to try and sleep it off. After a short nap, I went back in the water to cool down and refresh myself. I felt better.

I continued to relax pon de beach in my own little bubble, eating my vegetables, hummus, and pita while playing copious amounts of Mariah Carey through my mini speaker. I saw a couple of people I knew on the sand, but it was more of just knowing “of” them. In reality, “I don’t know her.” I was a little hazed out – okay, a lot hazed out – but overall, it was a great day. I am exhausted, though. As usual, the beach took it out of me. Nothing left to give. I am Whitney Houston. I have nothing.

Speaking of Whitney, I worry that I abused my drugs and alcohol today. That’s what I was anxious about. I think it was the weed messing with my head more than anything. Granted, I did have five cans of light beer. However, at 3.5% each, I don’t think that would’ve had a huge effect on my nerves. I don’t know. I felt guilty. After all that Fire Island talk about not wanting to drink, here I was a week later boozing and blazing on a beach. I feel like I’ve betrayed myself. Plus, I ate a ton of food. That was not part of the plan. I was just so happy that my hunky beach neighbor offered me his weed. I kept smelling it all day. I wanted to smoke so bad. Without even thinking about it, I took the pipe and sparked up.

Zoe got into the city earlier than expected, so I decided to leave the island on the 6 p.m. ferry. It was such an amazing beach day. I love Hanlan’s Point so much. Any beach moment, really. As I said before, I’m really proud of myself for going alone, too. I don’t know too many people who would do that. I don’t want to rely on other people to do things, though. It’s similar to when I saw the Go-Go’s in concert a couple of weeks ago. I wanted that moment, so I made it happen. I want to continue that trend, too. Vacations, meals, events – whatever. Why give up my chance at doing something, simply because I’m the only one who wants to do it? If anything, that just means there’s more of it for me to enjoy.

I got back to the Witch Cave around 6:30 p.m., and Zoe was watching TV. Given that Sebastian is going to be staying at my place right after Zoe leaves, I figured it would be easiest to have a second set of keys made. Before leaving for Hanlan’s Point this morning, I hid the key in my building with some very Amazing Race-style instructions on how to find it so that Zoe could let herself in.

Despite my residual weed haze, Zoe and I had a quick catch up when I got home. Very casual. It was like I had just seen her yesterday. I love how that works. We continued to talk, had some food, and watched an episode of The Nanny. I had no idea Zoe loved The Nanny! That’s such a silly note to make, but it’s always such a pleasant surprise when I find out a friend likes Fran Fine.

Soon enough, it was time for Zoe to head out for drinks with her local friend. After she left, I just continued eating. I was literally grabbing one thing after another from my cupboard until I eventually passed out into a food coma. When I woke up, I threw on some shoes and met Connor at the subway. We were going to meet Craig Martin while he was working at The Diner – a plan I had concocted whist high as a kite pon de island. Zoe was going to join us after her drinks session, but never ended up making it.

I was exhausted at The Diner. I also wasn’t the least bit hungry. However, I thought that Craig was going to comp our meals like the last time we visited him, so I over-ordered. Bad idea. Connor and I shared a pitcher of watermelon mojitos, from which I am sure I now have diabetes. This was also followed by two plates of fried food. Craig gave us a discount at the end of our meal, but nothing was fully comped like last time. Still a great deal, though.

Despite being on the clock, Craig sat with us for a while. At the boys’ request, I delivered a post-mortem rundown of New York City, giving them the full story of my various misadventures.

It’s so weird how everyone who went to New York City had such a different trip. Craig said that he wished we’d spent more time with one another during the trip. I definitely agree, but there’s not much I can do about it now. It was what it was. Obviously, I didn’t plan for Sunday to happen. That would have been the day I spent more time with the group. Oh, well. I’ll consider returning to Fire Island one day, but I don’t want to go back to New York City. Ever.

Oh, wait. Damn you, Mariah Carey! The Queen of Christmas will no doubt be dragging me back into Manhattan for her holiday concert series. Given the anniversary December will mark, that’s going to be a tough trip. Oy.

Connor and I took the subway home together. Afterwards, I picked up a slice of pizza for Zoe on my walk back to the Witch Cave. I freaked out when I heard The Elusive Chanteuse’s “You Don’t Know What to Do” playing through the speaker system, which prompted the cashier to turn up the volume.

“Anything for you,” the large Italian man said sarcastically.

Following a short chat at the Witch Cave while Zoe ate her pizza, we both got ready for bed. And by that, I mean I popped a Xanax and drew all the curtains. I look forward to sleeping until 1 p.m. tomorrow, hopefully watching my pregnant stomach deflate, and also surprising Zoe with Naomi! It’s going to be so good.

Stefan texted me today, suggesting we “hang out” next week. This is the fourth time Stefan has sent that same message. As usual, I said I was keen on the idea. Also as usual, there has been no follow-up on Stefan’s end. Maybe he’s shy? I don’t want a shy guy! At this point in my romantic life, I’m really not looking for anything. Although I will go on dates, if you want it to happen, you’re going to have to be very persistent. I will not be reaching out to make arrangements. Sorry, Mr. Sheffield.

One last thing. Peter Marc Jacobson – Fran Drescher’s gay ex-husband and co-creator of The Nanny – liked my Instagram video of Fran today. In a comment, Peter also said he would send it to her. Oh, my God. I need Fran in my life! Remember when I almost convinced Fran’s gay assistant to let me meet her backstage after Cinderella on Broadway? Ah. I love me.

Goodnight xo

@yalittlenasty Instagram post from tonight.