Friday! I woke up in a great mood today!

It’s such a stupid thing to judge happiness by, but I really do enjoy making my Instagram videos. After about a month-long hiatus, I’ve finally regained a sliver of my creativity. This morning, I made a really funny clip of Fran Fine, which led to me singing Sheena Easton’s “Morning Train” for the entire day. It’s the little things sometimes.

Arrived at work, and did my thing. There’s always a different vibe at The Clubhouse on a Friday. People are generally happier, and there’s typically less stress because people know the weekend is less than eight hours away.

After working with Lucy and Emma on an Apple TV initiative, I worked in my office on a few different projects. It’s so funny, though. Slightly alarming, even. Those two girls talk so much shit about everyone we work with. They despise working for The Clubhouse, and I find it fascinating to hear what they have to say about the office politics. At least I know that I’m not alone with my feelings on some of the bullshit. However, the difference is that if something really bothers me, I won’t stay quiet about it. Unfortunately, I know that the male versus female thing comes into play, too. It’s horrible. When a woman complains about something, it’s viewed as nagging. When a man does the same thing, it’s somehow perceived as a more valid opinion. That needs to change.

Today was also the first day where I actually felt like I was making a difference at work. I implemented one of my initiatives, which was to call all new members and see how they were enjoying their memberships. It was a long process. I left a lot of voicemails, but it felt good to actually do something more than punch names and numbers into a database. I talked to a lot of interesting members, and had some great conversations with them.

I basically checked out of all work duties at 5 p.m., but stayed on the clock for After Hours. Riley was at the club doing some work, so we had a couple of beers and talked for a while. It’s always awkward when co-workers see that, though. Nobody else is allowed to socialize the way I am. I better not get my drinking privileges taken away. They’re a part of my benefits plan! Stella gave me the evil eye when she saw me at After Hours tonight. Although, I think that might have just been her resting bitch face.

I left work slightly tipsy, but nowhere near drunk. Lexapro texted me around that time, telling me that he was driving on the highway. I told him that I wanted to go for a ride in his truck. I didn’t think Lexapro was going to suggest tonight, but he said that he could pick me up wherever I was in 20 minutes. Since I didn’t have anything else planned tonight, I figured – why not?

Before Lexapro picked me up, I stopped at an LCBO in the Distillery District. I wanted to have some beers on hand for our little road trip. While trolling the many aisles of government controlled booze, I had a revelation. Why aren’t more people using the LCBO as they should be? It’s the cheapest bar in the city! Where else can you get a tall can of beer for less than $3? I bought a few extra beers for myself, then sat at a picnic table on the street and drank while I waited for Lexapro to pick me up.

After two beers, Lexapro pulled up in his truck. A massive, red Ford F-150, which I think I pulled a muscle hoisting myself into. The two of us drove to nowhere for almost an hour before we ended up at Scarborough Bluffs. I had actually been wanting to visit the Bluffs for a while. Despite being a complete mess trying to climb up and down a fucking cliff with a broken toe, I still managed to conquer the mini mountain.

Side note: as we approach the six-week mark of this surgery recovery, my foot is absolutely disgusting. It looks like an Egyptian slave’s foot. I don’t know what that actually looks like, but I imagine mine is pretty similar.

The Bluffs were beautiful. I couldn’t believe that something like that existed just outside of the city. It was getting late, but Lexapro wanted to take me to another spot he liked on the outskirts of the city. We drove to this really strange water treatment plant, which Lexapro said was used as a setting in one of his favorite TV shows from yesteryear.

I keep forgetting that Lexapro is seven years older than me. That’s likely due to the fact that he is approximately the size of a pre-teen. As such, when he says certain things about TV shows he watched as a teenager, I have to remember that I would have been seven at the time. Chances are, we probably weren’t watching the same shows. Holy shit. Lexapro is Cousin Ashley’s age! How ironic that he’s probably the same size as her, too.

Anyway, Lexapro and I drove to this huge building, listening to his EDM crap along the way. Okay. Let’s cut the shit here. I can only fake an interest for so long. After a while, whenever Lexapro would ask me if I knew a song – which he did every time a new track started playing – I decided that I would just say yes to everything. It was much easier that way.

By the way, that EDM music is fucking stupid. Of all things, I never thought that electronic dance music would be an issue in a relationship. I can’t take Lexapro seriously. The music is about as bad as his wardrobe. Today, Lexapro’s outfit featured a skateboard t-shirt, paired with long shorts that looked as though they were made from one of those Mexican ponchos that guys wear to Burning Man. I believe the fabric is called a “drug rug.” I wonder if Lexapro would let me dress him?

We arrived at the water treatment plant, parked on a side street, and made out for a while as we drank beer in the truck. I kept putting my hand up Lexapro’s shorts. After walking around the building, which was actually quite beautiful – another gem I didn’t know existed in Toronto – we then we sat on the edge of a concrete dock that overlooked Lake Ontario. Unfortunately, Lexapro brought his portable speaker with him. My feigned interest in his music continued throughout our waterfront moment. The whole thing was quite romantic, though. It was perhaps slightly slutty of me to straddle Lexapro and make out with him on a slab of concrete the way I did, but it was what it was. I’m now embracing my inner slut. I kind of love it.

When the battery on Lexapro’s speaker died, he said that he was hungry. Damn it. I literally thought this outing was just going to be a short drive. Clearly, Lexapro had other intentions. I even gave a fake “out” when he picked me up so that I could tap out of the date at 9:30 p.m. if I needed to. The first two restaurants Lexapro wanted to eat at were both closed, which was fucking stupid for 11 p.m. on a Friday night. After Lexapro suggested going to Spring Rolls at the mall, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I decided we would go to Bar Isabel on College Street. I tried mussels for the first time! Cold ones! I didn’t love them, but I also didn’t projectile vomit all over Lexapro. So, I guess you could say that it was successful venture. Despite my zoning out multiple times whenever Lexapro would talk about one subject for too long, we had some really good conversations over dinner. Lexapro also picked up the entire check, which was amazing. I offered, but it was more for the sake of saying I did it. The reality was that I let that damn bill sit on the edge of the table for a good five minutes before Lexapro picked it up – literally. I always remember an old hair dresser of mine in Florida telling me, “Don’t pay for a drink until you’re 28.” I’m officially adding that to my list of personal rules.

After dinner, we jumped back in the truck. The two of us instantly started making out, and my hand once again crept up Lexapro’s shorts. Back at the Witch Cave, Lexapro parked outside my building and we continued kissing. I also went down on Lexapro for a hot minute.

This is where things got complicated.

Earlier in the day, I had messaged Gunther. I asked him what he was doing this weekend. I knew that if I wanted some action between the sheets, I could easily get some from Gunther. Naturally, Gunther only responded to my message during my evening with Lexapro, telling me to come over to his apartment. I ignored the messages, as my hands were a little preoccupied at the time.

Well, it was now pushing 2 a.m., and Gunther had sent me another string of messages. He still wanted me to come over. Ugh. Brace yourself. This was so shady of me.

While in the car with Lexapro, I was texting Gunther. I told Gunther that I would come over with a bottle of champagne, but only if he paid for my cab. Gunther agreed to my terms, so I did, too. However, Lexapro then began hinting that he wanted to come upstairs with me. I knew that such an invitation would turn into something a lot longer than a short visit, so I never offered. After telling Lexapro I had to go, making out, giving him head, telling him I had to go again, making out again, and giving him head again, I jumped out of the truck and raced upstairs. Lexapro went home.

I probably spent about five minutes in my apartment. I popped open a bottle of champagne, changed my underwear, grabbed a pair of socks, and ran back out the door. I hailed a cab, and I was on my way to Gunther’s place.

Gunther lived in a fucking mansion. The last time I was with him, he was still living at his mother’s compound in Forrest Hill. This new place was occupied by Gunther and two other guys. Not only was their place spotless, but it was huge. It had multiple floors, multiple decks, and a bathroom the size of my entire apartment. It was ridiculous.

Based on our iMessage exchange, I knew that Gunther had been drinking. I didn’t think much of it, though. I just made sure I had the lion’s share of the champagne I’d brought over. Upon arriving at the mansion, I kissed Gunther hello to break the tension and we escaped to his bedroom right away.

En route to Gunther’s, I texted him that I wanted to watch The Nanny, and to have it ready for me. Gunther didn’t know what it was, so I called him a bad Jew. Needless to say, he didn’t have Fran, Sylvia, and Grandma Yetta waiting for me when I arrived. All there was left for us to do was make out. I knew things were going to get a little freaky with Gunther when he told me to pin his arms back while I made out with him on his bed. After that, Gunther got naked, got me naked, and turned off the lights.

I’m not exactly pleased with my body type. This is hardly a secret. However, Gunther has completely let himself go. I actually don’t think I’ve ever been with someone of his size before. Gunther is tall, but since the last time I was with him – admittedly, three or four years ago – he has completely ballooned out. If I’m being completely honest, it wasn’t attractive. Listen. I’m not looking for some Greek Adonis. In fact, looks are not even in the top five things I look for in a guy. I’ll take a good sense of humor over a six-pack any day. Looks fade. Brains are sexy. At the same time, you need to exercise a basic level of care when it comes to your health. Gunther had clearly missed that memo.

I quickly realized that I wasn’t into what was happening with Gunther. Although Gunther was certainly a sure thing, I was regretting passing up a potential night with Lexapro. I’ll admit it – I made the wrong choice. I regretted my decision. After grabbing Gunther’s penis, and realizing that it was about half the size of the one I had in my hand 30 minutes ago, I didn’t want much to do with him anymore. The guy also tasted like an ashtray, and his intoxication was becoming more and more apparent as the evening progressed. All around, the whole thing was just not cute.

Gunther was quite aggressive. In general, I only respond well to that sort of behavior about half the time. The other half, I return the aggression and do the exact thing(s) a guy is doing to me. Don’t fuck with me, fellas! Tonight, that meant choking Gunther, biting him, and – as an added person touch – twisting his nipples like that scene in The House Bunny. I was also exhausted. After an endless stream of lackluster moves, all I wanted to do was sleep. So, that’s what we did. Gunther grabbed onto me like a koala, and I closed my eyes.

Now, I don’t know how much time had passed, but it wasn’t long before Gunther woke up. He then woke me up, and wanted some more action. Gunther went down on me for a bit. However, at 5 a.m. there was only so much interest I could fake. We were back to sleep pretty quickly after that.

I remember my last thought before bed being, “Should I consider sex work?” I’m good at shutting myself off when I need to. I don’t think I could handle it at that level, though.

Goodnight xo