I. Hate. Mornings.

Seriously, I cannot get myself out of bed before 7 a.m. Even that hour is an extreme struggle.

I couldn’t fall asleep last night. I’m going to go ahead and place the blame on the super-sized slice of pie and three chocolate-covered “granola bars” – who the fuck is Quaker kidding? – that I funneled down my throat at 10 p.m.

Given that it was a long weekend, last night was technically my Sunday night. Naturally, that meant all the regrets of my life were racing through my mind. Weed was taking center stage. I couldn’t stop thinking about how stupid I was for falling into the trap again. Weed is such a fucking trap! Mary Jane lures you in with her siren song of relaxation, stress-relief, and creativity. Once she’s trapped you in her cloud, you’re a fucking goner. All productivity floats away, only to be replaced by an undying hunger. Oh, the fucking hunger! It’s so messed up.

While in bed, thinking about all of the above and how badly I wanted to stop smoking, eating, and get my body back to where it was before my foot surgery, I realized that I should just flush all of my weed. So, that was it. I was going to do it. I told myself I would do it in the morning, and then fell asleep.

Given that I drink 19 gallons of water a day, I naturally had to pee in the middle of the night. Looking at the ashtray of ground up weed on my bathroom shelf, I thought to myself, “No time like the present!” Without a second thought, I flushed all of the ashtray contents down the toilet. After that, I grabbed my Tupperware container off the coffee table and emptied that stash down the drain with a second flush. It’s all gone. Finally! It felt so good to flush it. It would have felt better if it were a real bowel movement, as I’m more backed up than the Don Valley Parkway at rush hour, but this will do for now.

I returned to bed, but couldn’t fall back to sleep. After watching so much Harry Potter this weekend, I decided to use a spell of my own: “Abraca-Xanax.” All you have to do is pop 1.5 Xanax pills down your muggle mouth, and you’ll be asleep in no time.

Morning eventually came, and I wasn’t happy about it. I made my lunch, packed my bag – with gym clothes and running shoes – and got to work for 9 a.m. Big Bird was late, but when she got to the office she was actually pretty awesome for most of the day. Big Bird and Hannah, The Clubhouse’s Events Manager, were both hungover. Lawrence was away, and most of the other management team took the day off, too. It was kind of a write-off.

After some quick work in the morning to make it look like I had done something productive, I spent until 1 p.m. researching and eventually booking a round-trip flight to New York City. I’m going back, baby! The departure times are ridiculous, but something inside of me just kept saying, “Stay as long as possible!” So, I am. I’m actually coming home at 6 a.m. on the Monday, and will head straight to The Clubhouse for work after that.

Who knows what will happen in New York City. I don’t want to have any expectations. I just want an adventure. I’ll make my own adventure! I’m excited. The flights weren’t cheap – $355 CAD – but it’s going to be totally worth it. Just don’t get your heart broken. Oh, and don’t get a STD. For the love of God, that’s all I’m asking!

After playing travel agent for half the day, I did a bit more work and then broke for lunch and sat outside at Starbucks. I don’t know what they put in a cold brew coffee, but I was bouncing off the fucking walls when I got back to my desk. Surprisingly, so was Big Bird. Neither of us would shut the fuck up.

Fortunately, Big Bird now gives me full control of our office music. We listened to Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814 album for the rest of the day, which wasn’t very long by the time I got back from my extended lunch. I’m also taking tomorrow off for an interview and doctors’ appointments, so I’m not going to be back at The Clubhouse until Thursday. Yahoo!

After work, I popped in my headphones in, Janet Jack’d my way to the gym, and got to work. I did my regular floor routine, and then I fucking ran. I ran on a treadmill for the first time in two and a half months! That is amazing! I could only do 30 minutes before things started hurting, but that didn’t stop me from grinning ear to ear the entire time. I fucking loved it. I was lip-syncing Janet songs like nobody’s business, and having a great time. Afterwards, I went into the locker room, changed into my bathing suit, and finally saw the full extent of my weight gain.

This is bad. My body is going to require some serious work. I know what I’ve looked like in that locker room mirror before, and what I saw today was not a pretty sight. The fat is all over. Especially on my stomach. Any semblance of an abdomen muscle that I had before my surgery has been flooded by a layer of chocolate covered almonds. I also have two slices of key lime pie jiggling nicely on each side of my waist. This is a mess. I passed out in the sauna for a while, hoping to melt off some weight before I got in the shower and took the subway home.

I don’t know what came over me today, but I’ve still been thinking about RX. Along with my thoughts of weed and Harry Potter spells last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about my last conversation with RX and how upset I am about it.

I don’t even know what brought the memory on, but I think I was reminded about – oh! That’s what it was. Aaron got engaged. And as ridiculous as all of that is, Aaron’s quickie engagement made me think of RX and how I would feel if I heard he got engaged to someone. I would probably jump off a bridge. I would be absolutely devastated.

I got to thinking about how shitty our current relationship is. At this point, I couldn’t see any communication between us happening in the near future. I didn’t want that Pride party argument from June to be the last thing I ever said to RX. I got it in my head that I wanted to message RX about it. Sort of in the way that I confronted Phillip a while back about not being in his social circle. Fuck. That ended well.

I ended up messaging RX when I got off the subway after the gym tonight. By the time I got home, he had responded.

Kurt: “Can I talk to you about something that’s been bothering me?”

RX: “Yes, of course.”

Kurt: “It’s our last conversation and the way it ended. It really upset me.”

RX: “It definitely wasn’t the most pleasant conversation we’ve had with one another.”

I followed up by sending RX two very long messages about how I was feeling. I apologized for my behavior, and explained why I was upset.

Kurt: “I’m sorry for being as confrontational as I was. I obviously recognize that, and I am sincerely apologizing. I get so worked up about things and try to convince myself that it doesn’t bother me, and then it all comes out at once. In this case, yeah – I was upset that you weren’t acknowledging my message. But, it was an accumulation of things. And I’m not saying this to be confrontational again, but it’s a part of why I was upset – because you had done it before. So many of our conversations have just ended abruptly. I’ll send a message, and then I won’t hear from you until the next holiday, or birthday, or whatever. And I don’t know why it upsets me so much, but it does. I don’t know why I expect so much of you, but I do.”

Kurt: “You mean so much to me. That’s why it matters. I care what you think about me, I want a response from you, and all I can think about with that last conversation is, “What if that’s the last conversation we ever have?” I don’t want that to be it. And I feel so goddamn stupid that what was supposed to be a kind, moving forward type of gesture turned into that argument. I’m trying. I’m really fucking trying here, and I have been for a while. But I thought, maybe he isn’t seeing it. So, then it was the work party. All I wanted was to try and share something with you. I had started a new job and they gave me some invites to the Pride party, and I wanted you to come. I wanted to see you. That’s all it was. I know it sounds so foolish and simple, but it was a big deal to me and a big step. And me being me, I was already getting ahead of myself thinking, “If this goes well, I’ll invite him to my birthday!” So, when you took so long to get back, I was upset. I figured you were ignoring me, and it really hurt my feelings. And while I’ve already agreed that it wasn’t cool of me to be that confrontational, you then lectured me and called me self-centered, telling me I only think about how things affect me. That’s what really hurt, because it was the complete opposite of what I was trying to do.”

Almost two hours passed. I still hadn’t heard anything back from RX. Then, it came.

From 11 p.m. to 1 a.m., RX and I talked about the argument we had. Our exchange was stupidly long. Many times, I just gave up and said that I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think RX was going to understand the point I was trying to get across, and that’s because I really am speaking in fucking riddles. I’ve come to realize it. I thought I was so clear with my intentions last November when I took him out for that “date.” But, was that not clear either? I wanted to bring up the events of that evening, but tonight was not the moment for that.

By the end of our conversation, we had worked it all out. Before wrapping things up, I added in some stuff about not being able to express fully myself to RX, both because I don’t know how, and because I am scared that he might not feel the same way. In classic fashion, we exchanged a quick joke and then RX had to go to bed.

I said goodnight, and then let a couple of minutes pass. Like the fucking crazy person that I am, I had one more message to send RX.

Kurt: “Love you.”

After I pressed the send button, I proceeded to wake up my entire apartment building as I yelled, “FUCK!” 1,500 different ways. What did you just do, Kurt!

A minute later, RX responded.

RX: “You too, goodnight.”

I am still unsure about that response. What does that mean? Ugh. I’m tired of trying to figure it out. I don’t want to analyze it anymore. I just want to make out with RX. But, what if that’s my response to the current lack of men in my life? Fuck. And now we’re analyzing again. Stop it.

I have an interview bright and early tomorrow morning, which I am not nearly ready for. I am so fucking tired. It’s time for bed. For the love of God – get it together, girl!

Goodnight xo