Lauryn and I both slept in super late, then had a nice breakfast with Mom and Dad downstairs.
After stuffing our gullets with bacon and waffles, I went upstairs to write in my room for a couple of hours, and Lauryn lounged outside by the pool. I also got really stoned, but comfortably so. I smoked Backyardigans. I don’t know if I can smoke “regular” weed anymore, to be honest. I’m still scarred by the dispensary stuff Phillip brought home last month. That stuff was insane. Completely paralyzing. Our neighbor’s home-grown stash always seems to sit fairly well with me, though. At least, until the end of the day – i.e., right now – when I feel like a complete slug.
I spent some time with Lauryn outside this afternoon. I don’t know if it was because I was high and over-analyzing but, as much as I love Lauryn, sometimes I find she is not as conscious of her behavior as I think she should be. Or, maybe I’m overly sensitive. Probably the latter. Nonetheless, I think what it is, is that Lauryn behaves as though she is a member of the family. I know, I know. I was gushing about this exact same thing last night. It’s amazing. I love that my parents have created an environment where my friends feel comfortable. That being said, I still think there needs to be a certain level of awareness that you’re a guest in someone’s house.
I often think about how Mom might react to certain things behind closed doors. For example, Lauryn not saying thank you, or waiting on my Mom to serve her poolside drinks and snacks. It’s hard to explain. I know Lauryn is appreciative. There’s no doubt about that. But, sometimes, I think that appreciation needs to be expressed explicitly. I guess what I’m worried about is having someone take advantage of my parents’ generosity. I’m very protective of my family.
Lauryn and I drank a lot by the pool, and I smoked some more weed. Unfortunately, I was also consumed with an overwhelming feeling of stickiness all day. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I still hadn’t washed the bodily fluids off me from Friday night. It’s just such a hassle. I still can’t get my foot wet. Every time I want to shower, I have to duct tape plastic bags around my ankle.
Mom and Dad took both Lauryn and I downtown for dinner tonight. We met up with Phillip at a restaurant near his place on College Street. Unfortunately, Lauryn pulled the same Casa Z stuff at dinner. She went ahead and ordered a ton of food for the table and two rounds of drinks for herself, without really even asking. Obviously, my parents were going to pick up the check. Whether or not Lauryn knew this, I don’t know. Either way, her carefree ordering rubbed me the wrong way. I would never do that if I were out with a friend’s family. I’d order a tap water with lemon and the cheapest dish on the menu. Not the entire appetizer list!
I don’t know if I’m overreacting. Knowing myself, I probably am. Still, I can just hear Mom complaining to Dad about the massive restaurant bill as I write this. Maybe they don’t care. They probably don’t. I don’t know what to think anymore. I just hope that Lauryn thanked them. Otherwise, I’m definitely going to hear about it.
The thing is, Lauryn is so incredibly thoughtful. I love the girl. She’s generous, genuine, and caring in every way. As such, you sort of overlook these small things, because you know it’s not coming from a negative place. I think it can be chalked up to unconscious behavior. Of course, I’m not a therapist. Don’t go by me.
Oddly enough, as the family was walking around the Little Italy Street Festival on College Street before and after dinner, we ran into Brad Sexton from elementary school. How ironic, given my feelings towards Lauryn’s recent behavior. I hadn’t seen Brad in almost a decade, but he would do the same thing when we were kids. Show up at our house unannounced, stay for hours, and dig through my parents’ kitchen, helping himself to whatever he wanted. Okay. Maybe not the “same thing” as Lauryn. Not even close. It was different with Brad, though. That boy was difficult in every other area, too.
As I’ve said, I think all of this comes down to me being very protective of my family. Yet, here I am encouraging Lauryn and Phillip to sleep together? Oy. I don’t regret that introduction. With or without my blessing, the two of them probably would have gotten together anyway. A part of me is angry at Phillip, though. My own brother won’t even introduce me to his friends, yet he has no problem having sex with mine? I’ll admit it – me setting Phillip up with Lauryn is ammunition for the next time I want to fuck one of his friends. Although, as Mom whispered to me tonight at dinner, “You don’t need permission.” Fuck, yeah!
I felt so gross all night. I’m tired, and have been sweating since yesterday morning. When I got back to the Witch Cave tonight, I masturbated and then took a long, cold shower to close my pores and scrub off the twelve layers of dead skin, sweat, and semen covering my body. When I ejaculated, I not only shot onto my face, but onto the fucking wall behind me. In 14 years of masturbating – if my math is correct – that has never happened to me. Considering the backlog I have going on lately, it makes sense. Especially after all of the unfinished tomfoolery that went down on Friday night and Saturday morning with Lexapro.
I never heard from Evan after he reamed me out on Friday night. I’m sure he’s busy filming a Real Housewives of Toronto confessional video about how much he dislikes me. Whatever. My main group of gays are all going to New York City in August. I think they’re expecting me to come with them, but I honestly don’t think I could deal with that kind of trip. I love my friends, but I generally prefer to travel alone. I don’t operate well with being told what to do or when to do it – which is probably why I hate having a job, too. Speaking of which, I need to get up early tomorrow. I should pack it in.
I talked to Lauryn about the potential New York City group trip tonight. Even she agreed that it might be a good idea to avoid it. I also confessed that a part of me is scared to go back. I have so many bad memories of New York City now. I don’t want them to resurface and drag me down into my hole again, after I’ve spent the last five months trying to forget everything. At the same time, I feel the need to face the music and make new memories in the Big Apple. I’m still angry about how Logan treated me. And how RX treated me. I’m really fucking angry. I’m really fucking sad, too. I haven’t heard anything from the Nick guy I went on a date with this week, which is a shame. I really liked him.
On another note, this would have been the same weekend last year when I discovered that I had “The Drip” after visiting that Tinder guy in Chicago. Glad we’re past that situation. If only my Marc Jacobs tighty whities weren’t still stained. Damn.
The countdown is on. I’ve got a week and a half left of this foot garbage, and then I am ready to spread my wings and fly away. I want to get the fuck out of here. I need a trip. I need an adventure. I also need to get laid. Although I’m certainly capable of frolicking between the sheets with a pin in my foot, it would definitely be easier without this Gollum foot. I do feel like penetration will happen soon, though. Lexapro and I would have had sex on my couch, but we didn’t have a condom. Maybe he’ll let me sleep over at his house one night. And then drive me around in his pick-up truck.
Fuck. I love summer.
Goodnight xo
Testing the lighting over some post-dinner sangria. Taste of Little Italy, College Street, Toronto
Not my best look. Taste of Little Italy, College Street, Toronto
Nope. Taste of Little Italy, College Street, Toronto
Still no. Taste of Little Italy, College Street, Toronto
Definitely not. Taste of Little Italy, College Street, Toronto
Being social, as usual. Taste of Little Italy, College Street, Toronto
Damn this hair! Taste of Little Italy, College Street, Toronto