This morning was fucking hell. Miraculously, I managed to get up early and on time. I made breakfast, lunch, and did my exercises, but I was so fucking exhausted that I ended up going back to bed. I figured I would just go to work for 10 a.m. instead of 9 a.m., but still leave early at 5 p.m.

Note to self: don’t set alarms when you’re still drunk in the morning.

Lesson learned. I woke up again, realized it was 9:45 a.m., and knew I wasn’t going to be at work for 10 a.m. I rushed out the door, texting Robyn along the way to let her know that I was going to be late. When I got to the office at 10:30 a.m., I made up some outrageous lie about being pulled off the streetcar and getting a ticket for an invalid metro pass. It was plausible.

Today at work was somewhat ridiculous. Once again, I spent a lot of time on the internet between menial tasks. I love being in my office on Tuesday, because Robyn isn’t. The woman always has about 16 meetings and tours booked throughout the day, which means it’s just me in our little closet. I can man-spread myself all over the place! It also means that I can text boys all day and listen to Mariah Carey at the loudest level possible. So, that’s what I did. Fortunately, Robyn had another meeting just before 5 p.m., which meant I was able to leave on time without any questioning.

I can’t decide if this attitude towards my job is good or bad. It’s not that I don’t work. I do. I’m actually quite productive, and complete everything Robyn asks of me. The thing is, Robyn’s a micromanager. I’m not allowed to do much by myself, because Robyn wants to be involved in every process. This becomes a problem when Robyn is busy, as I can’t move on to my next assignment. That’s when I end up fucking around all day. It works for me, though. I get paid either way! I’m also planning on quitting The Clubhouse once I find a better, higher paying job that is a bit more stimulating. Although, I’ve got to say. My resume looks pretty damn good with this latest addition. The best part? New employers don’t need to know that I’ve only been at The Clubhouse for six weeks. Muahahaha!

I texted with Lucas Ingraldi a lot today. PW, too. Basically, I’m getting paid to maintain my social life. It’s pretty sweet. Oh, and listen to Mariah’s “Babydoll” on repeat twenty times. It’s a great song to send to guys. I forwarded a YouTube link of it to Lucas.

I can’t believe Lucas and I made out the way we did last night. It was very unexpected, but very hot. It was just so weird when Lucas first got to the park. I didn’t even think the two of us were going to interact, and then the evening unfolded the way it did. I think Lucas liked my sassy attitude, which was also surprising. This is why I don’t like social media. I totally misjudged the guy off his Instagram when, in reality, Lucas was completely different from what I had expected. In a good way! It made me wonder what people think of me. Wonder, but not really care.

I ran out of work at 5 p.m., having counted down the seconds until I could leave. That’s the problem with shift pay. You actually have to be at work when you start and finish. You can’t ghost early, and get paid for the time you weren’t in the building. That’s why you fuck around during the day and get paid for doing nothing.

I walked home from work like a total maniac. I looked like one of those Olympic speed walkers with the funny hips. In preparation for tonight’s park date with PW, I stopped by the grocery store and picked up $50 worth of picnic supplies. In hindsight, that seems expensive. At the same time, a $50 grocery bill was still cheaper than taking someone out to dinner. Actually, it was a lot cheaper. My last two dinner dates were well over $100 each. This was a bargain.

I prepped everything at home like a speed demon. I also worked out quickly, showered in ice cold water to cool down, and then got on the streetcar and made my way to Trinity Bellwoods Park. I was happy to have arrived before PW, because it gave me a chance to set everything up. Naturally, the park was crawling with familiar faces.

PW arrived, and immediately complimented my spread of food. It was really cute, actually. I was quite proud of myself for putting something so great together – especially in a park. I had our picnic pimped out. Two platters, featuring grapes, strawberries, spiced nuts, chocolate, cheese, and crackers. PW brought a bottle of wine.

The conversation was great. Interjected by a few quick kisses here and there, PW and I talked for quite a while and had a really good time. The park was super busy, though. Busier than I had anticipated, and busier than I would have liked. It was also too bright out. I wanted some darkness so that we could make out.

Around 9:30 p.m., two guys walked past our spot on the edge of the park. I was talking to PW when it happened, and saw him completely lose focus. PW’s eyes shifted, and he zoned in on whoever was passing by. It was weird. Not soon after that, PW wanted us to go to his apartment and finish our drinks there. I wasn’t going to say no to PW’s invitation, but I had definitely anticipated staying in the park longer than we had been there. About five minutes after we packed things up, PW told me that he had seen his ex-boyfriend, and that was why he wanted to get out of the park. PW was having a bit of social anxiety. I understood, and didn’t press him further.

Now at PW’s house, he gave me a quick tour. I met one of his two roommates, and then we took our remaining wine and an extra bottle to the backyard patio, where we sat and talked for hours.

We talked about everything. PW was very, very open about a lot of topics. To a certain degree, it was actually somewhat upsetting. PW was going on about how he wants to move away from Toronto, which was not the greatest thing to hear when you’re dating someone new. PW talked about how he was so bad at dating, how he valued his independence, and how he didn’t like the term “date” – something I had already called him out on when he wanted to “hang.” In general, it was all just stuff that was weird to talk about on a second date.

Honestly, I have mixed emotions on what PW talked about tonight. On the one hand, I really appreciated his honesty. At the same time, it was all a bit of a red flag for me. PW was essentially saying that he doesn’t want any of “this” – whatever “this” even means. When I told PW that he was thinking too much, he said that he had to and that he wasn’t going to apologize for it. Okay. Christ. I wasn’t asking you to.

Our conversation wasn’t solely focused on relationships. We talked a lot about social media, too. The idea of creating an image of yourself online, and subscribing to that “brand.” Because, you know, people can be “brands” now. What’s worse was that PW freely admitted to doing that. I never thought someone would admit to such tomfoolery. That’s when a bit of the age thing came into play. I honestly don’t understand the importance of social media the way PW sees it. It all seems so stupid and trivial to me. Yet, to PW, it’s such a big part of his life. PW’s cringeworthy admission sort of made me see how Phillip would be upset about the comments I made regarding his account. These kids take Instagram very seriously. It’s so weird!

After our second bottle of wine, PW wanted to go back inside the house. We went to his room, and lay on his bed for a while. Soon enough, PW mentioned that perhaps he had said too much outside, noting that I had shut down when he started to open up. I told PW that I actually really enjoyed listening to him talk, which was true. I think PW is a really smart guy, and had a lot of interesting points to make. However, I also added that I thought he was thinking too much about the relationship side of things. Fine, don’t call it a “date.” But, don’t get your head wrapped around a word so much. This was a second date. Calm down. I told PW that it wasn’t me shutting down. I listened to everything he had said. However, I reiterated that I still thought he was thinking about things too much. Nothing I would say was going to change his mind. If anything, PW would likely end up thinking about things more. So, in a way – why bother? I like PW. I don’t want to scare him away.

I called PW a brat, which he didn’t like. Guys really don’t like that word. They don’t get mad, but when was the last time someone called you a brat? It’s funny. PW got a good laugh out of it. After that, we made out a lot. And, I do mean a lot. It was great.

It was also fucking hot. Temperature-wise, that is. PW’s place didn’t have any air conditioning, so I was starting to get really sweaty, really fast. We were still lying on PW’s bed, making out and talking. I made him play “Underneath the Stars.” I don’t know if he liked it. I just really wanted to hear the song in that moment.

What else did we talk about? A lot of things.

I admitted to PW that I had wanted to ask him out for a long time.

We talked about Phillip, and how he might feel about the two of us having a “thing” – even though we never labeled anything.

PW told me that he was quite impressed that I asked for his number. I responded by saying that it was important to me that I meet him in person, rather than reach out as a semi-stranger through social media.

My recent argument with Phillip came up, too. Since PW was with my brother at the time, he was aware of what had happened.

Although we talked a lot, there was still a fair amount of kissing involved. It was nice. I knew PW wanted more from me physically, though. In the interest of keeping him wanting more, I wouldn’t move past first base. And I told PW that flat out. I wanted to make out, but that was it. On the other hand, it was also getting disgustingly hot in PW’s room. When PW said that all he wanted to do was get naked and cool down, I told him that he could, but under one condition: he had to keep his underwear on.

That kid took his clothes off in about half a second. I gave PW a massage, and then something weird happened. PW didn’t want to kiss me anymore.

“I don’t want a boner that’s not going to be taken care of,” he said. “You’re teasing me.”

What the fuck? Who says that?

First of all, I’m not obligated to do anything with this guy. I shouldn’t have been expected to “take care” of anything. Second, I had outright told PW that I didn’t want to do anything more than making out, and he should have respected that. I wasn’t teasing PW. I already said he wasn’t getting any tonight.

After that weird exchange, I ran into a bit of a problem. PW’s room was getting way too hot for me. I was sweating profusely, which is never a good look on me. I ended up taking my clothes off, too – everything but my underwear. It didn’t help my vow of chastity, but I also didn’t want to soak PW’s bed with the sweat that had begun pouring out of my back.

“Are you comfortable being naked?” PW asked me.

“Yes,” I responded confidently. “I am.”

Recently, I have actually found myself a lot more comfortable with my body. There are times when I’m definitely not, but tonight on PW’s bed wasn’t one of them. I was keeping my underwear on because I wanted to. Well, sort of. A part of me did want to tease PW, but I also wanted whatever was developing between us to be about more than just sex. I like PW. A lot. Given those feelings – in addition to PW’s relationship with my brother – I didn’t want to give it up right away. That wouldn’t have been cute. I don’t care what Chelsea Handler says. When I give it up on a first date, it’s because I really don’t care about the guy. I didn’t want to do that with PW. I think he liked my body, though.

“You’re perfect,” he said as we lay on the bed in our underwear together.

It’s weird how we see ourselves. I often receive a lot of positive comments on my body. However, the image I see when I look in the mirror is not something I have ever been truly happy with. Sometimes, I think you have to trick your way to confidence, though.

PW asked me another question. I can’t remember exactly what it was, but I remember my response.

“I’m an attractive person,” I said.

PW laughed. My declaration of self-esteem wasn’t meant to be a narcissistic comment, but I also didn’t want to start putting myself down in front of PW. That’s not attractive. At the same time, I’m not fucking Shrek! I’m not a supermodel, but I’m not exactly a hag either. It has taken me many years to admit that I am an attractive person. I don’t regret saying it. In fact, I think I want to honor that statement more from now on. Or, at the very least, fake it until I make it.

I think that confidence is perhaps the most attractive quality a person can have. That’s what I’ve been trying to put forth with PW – especially with this evening’s picnic. I know that PW was appreciative of my efforts, which meant a lot to me. My picnic spread was pretty fucking great, if I do say so myself. In the interest of facilitating dates that I would want to be taken on, I think I did a pretty damn good job tonight. If someone set up a date for me the way I did for PW tonight – which would never happen, because guys are clueless – I would be pretty fucking impressed.

As we were talking on PW’s bed, the subject of second dates came up. PW said that he doesn’t often make it to a second date. I admitted to having the same problem, but for different reasons. I explained to PW that I think it’s because people see me and believe they are going to get a certain kind of person. However, when they eventually meet me and I begin talking, I am a lot of personality to handle at once. It freaks people out. I scare guys away with my intensity, and we don’t move past the first date. PW asked me what I thought people expected from me. I said that I didn’t know.

It was now around 1 a.m. I wanted to keep making out, but by this point PW really wasn’t into it. He said that if he was going to respect my wishes, I had to respect his. Out of nowhere, PW then jumped out of bed.

“I need to go to sleep,” he blurted out.

Translation: PW was telling me to get the fuck out of his house

The whole thing was very abrupt. I was kind of upset about it, to be honest. PW was very blunt. I didn’t like the way he immediately shut everything down with one phrase, and felt like I was being asked to leave because I wouldn’t suck his dick. It was what it was, I guess.

I took PW’s hint – or lack thereof – and put my clothes on. As I was about to leave, PW asked how I was getting home.

“I’ll figure it out,” I said while lacing up my Converse.

PW insisted on calling me an Uber. I actually thought that was quite nice of him. It was certainly a nicer way of ending the night than the way PW shut things down in his bedroom. We kissed at the bottom of the staircase while PW was still in his underwear. I went home just after 1:30 a.m.

After all of the stuff PW told me tonight, I have mixed feelings on our second date. On the other hand, I also think that there were a lot of nerves coming through on PW’s end this evening. I don’t want to pressure him into anything. I need to keep a close eye on that.

I think tonight was PW’s way of setting himself up with some sort of armor so that people don’t get too close to him. PW said that the reason he never has second dates is because he usually just shuts things down. However, he found himself quite intrigued after our first date and said that he wanted to get to know me more. PW still won’t refer to our evenings as “dates” – it’s just, “Getting to know Kurt.”

That’s where we’re at, I guess. I’m going to see PW tomorrow, which will be great. I’m taking him to the Ghostbusters screening. I’m also guaranteed to see him at Phillip’s birthday BBQ on Saturday, too. That should be interesting.

I took my Uber home, where I collapsed on my bed and have been writing this journal entry ever since. I really wanted to purge these emotions. I think it’s sleepy time now.

Hold on. I’m not done writing about PW yet.

Amidst PW’s lengthy confessional in his backyard tonight, he said that he didn’t like PDA. Kissing me in Trinity Bellwoods Park was apparently very unnerving for him.

I don’t know, man. There were a lot of things that PW said tonight – most of which were very confusing. PW actually called me confusing at one point, too. Except, I don’t even remember what he was referring to. I think it was just the general idea that I’m different from most guys he sees.

The problem is that I pegged PW for someone who was very confident in their moves. Meanwhile, PW was so uncomfortable with some basic kissing in a public park that he needed to leave because he knew too many people? I knew a lot of people, too. Okay. Maybe not in the same sense. I suppose seeing an ex-boyfriend could have made a difference. But, still. I want someone who is going to shout my name from the rooftops. Will it be PW? I don’t know.

I like PW a lot. I don’t want to scare him away, but I also don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not. Maybe it’s not about that, though. Perhaps it’s about taking things slow. I’m not used to slow and steady. I’m used to hot and heavy right away, all emotions on the table from the start. But, that hasn’t exactly worked out well for me, has it? Maybe this could be a good thing.

I do wonder if our age difference will be an issue, though. Four years isn’t normally a big deal. But in this case, you are talking about four years covering a major cultural/generational shift. People my age behave infinitely different from people PW and Phillip’s age.

You know what? Stop thinking about this. I like PW. I’m going to keep seeing him. That’s that.

Fuck. That boy is one hell of a kisser.

Goodnight xo