Thank God for caffeine pills.
Getting out of bed in the morning is always such a struggle, especially because my nights of going to bed at 11:30 p.m. have somehow been pushed out to 1 a.m. these days. Mind you, as soon as I toss back my morning medication cocktail with a liter of water, I usually begin to perk up. Tonight, I’m writing this entry after 2 a.m., so I’ll no doubt be doing the same thing tomorrow morning.
To be fair – and I deserve a fucking medal for this – I’ve cut back on my caffeine pills. Why I was taking three of them every morning to begin with is another topic for another journal, but now I only take one. Furthermore, once this bottle is done, I don’t plan on purchasing another. Although, I’m now wondering if cutting back on my caffeine intake has had anything to do with my recent weight gain. I’m going to say it doesn’t. In fact, I’m almost positive that my ever-inflating spare tire is a result of me not burning 1,000 extra calories a day from running. Either way, there has been a clear expansion in my mid-section, which is getting harder and harder to ignore – especially because I tuck my shirt in at work. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I knew this was going to happen. I run so I can eat. Without that exercise, it means I need to alter my diet. That is a fate worse than death! I love grilled cheese sandwiches so much. Anyway, enough with the tangents.
I woke up, made a salad for my work lunch – see, I’m trying – and worked from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. at the front desk today, which was much better than my first day. I actually understand what I’m doing now – the result of which is a lot more confidence in my work.
Lately, I’ve found that I need to trick myself into believing I can do something. For example, when someone tells me, “You’ll be working alone on X day,” or asks, “Do you think you can do X?” my response should simply be, “Yes.”
Yep. Sure. Okay. No more pussy bullshit cowardice. If I say I can do something, eventually I’ll believe it. With that in mind, today was a good day. I’m getting the hang of this stuff.
I’m being trained to work The Clubhouse’s front desk by the Head Concierge, Niall – the same guy who interviewed me with that essay booklet last month. Fresh off the boat from Ireland, I can barely understand a word Niall says. The guy seems nice enough, although I’m still undecided on his McDonald’s orange drink hair and matching beard. The only negative part of my day was when Niall alluded to me wearing the front desk uniform. That’s – a bridge we’ll cross when we get there. I refuse. I will not wear that uniform. Brown pants? Absolutely not. The biggest hurdle will be explaining why Niall – the Head Concierge – has to wear the uniform, but I don’t. I can be quite persuasive when I need to be. We’ll see what happens.
I left The Clubhouse at 5 p.m., and walked home until I reached the Eaton Centre. After that, I had to take transit the rest of the way. I truly felt like my foot was going to fall off. I want exercise so badly. I crave it. However, as proven by tonight’s walk, it’s clear that I’m physically incapable of doing as much as I want. It fucking sucks. At this point, my options to lose weight have been reduced to floor exercises and anorexia. Neither are ideal.
Once I arrived at the Witch Cave, I instantly got naked and crawled into bed. After passing out for two hours, I woke up to a text from Bryan. Our initial exchange was a basic check-in with one another. However, we eventually arrived at the moment I had been anticipating for a while – Bryan wanted to know what was going on between us. After I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, made dinner, and watched an episode of Chelsea, I began drafting my response. Here’s the message exchange:
Bryan: “Just wanted to touch base – got the impression that you’re done with seeing me. I suppose I just wanted to see what changed for you? I mean, other than not seeing each other in forever and foot surgery, etc.”
Kurt: “I appreciate your question, and I’m sorry I haven’t been more forthcoming and honest with things. I guess, in the interest of changing that and maybe at the risk of being too honest, I’ll just lay it all out.
“I didn’t want to tell you – mainly because I just didn’t want you to know, but also because I didn’t want to use this as an “excuse” – but, about a month ago, things sort of took a turn for the worse with me. It was decided that starting an anti-depressant medication might be in my best interest. That’s part of the reason why I was spending a lot of time at home, too. It was just better for me not to be alone. I’ve been on the medication for just over a month now. Although the physical side-effects have subsided and I’m feeling better on that side, I’m not even sure that the medication is working. It fucking sucks, and that’s when I know I started to pull away from you. It wasn’t because I had decided that I wanted to stop seeing you, though. Even now, I’m struggling with what sort of “decision” I have to make, because I feel like I owe you one.
“I enjoy hanging out with you. I enjoy talking with you. You’re much more level-headed and positive than I have been lately. In a way, that has helped me feel better about everything else. In terms of a romantic relationship, though, that’s not what I want. I’ve wanted to talk about this, but then things would get in the way. You were away for work, and then I had my surgery and was at home for the entire month. I’ve sort of pulled back from everyone. I’ll have my social moments, but retreating to my own bubble seems to be a coping mechanism when I’m feeling anxious and overwhelmed, which has been happening a lot lately.
“I don’t know how to describe it – I’ve felt trapped for a while. And if that wasn’t enough, now I’m physically trapped because I can’t fucking do anything or go anywhere with this foot. So, with that, and not communicating with you as much as I used to, it felt weird to just shoot you a message about this out of the blue. Initially, I wanted to see you and tell you in person. I felt like I owed that to you, and I’m sorry about not delivering that courtesy.
“I just kept thinking that things would get better. That once the medication started working, or once I found work, I would find my balance again. I would be happier, and be able to give you more of my time. But, things haven’t gotten better. Although they may be slowly improving, I’m not where I want to be right now. I’m sorry that things had to end up this way. Guilty doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel about this situation. I’m disappointed in myself as well, because I didn’t want to fuck it up or hurt you in any way. But, here I am. I’m not sure if this was the type of response you were looking for, but it’s an honest one. I apologize for how I’ve handled this. I’m sorry.”
Bryan: “Ah man, Kurt. I wanna call you, but I’m assuming that would make you uncomfortable. Thank you for sharing. I actually was wondering if that might be it. You sorta alluded to the medication a while ago. Regardless, obviously I’m bummed that it’s not the right time for you to be with someone, but please don’t feel guilty. Your number one priority is you, and I want you to be your best self with me or anyone you’re with.
“I woulda just left it, but I never date. You’re so intelligent, funny, and really just a special guy, Kurt. You came into my life at a time when I didn’t realize it, but you were a help to me for a bunch of reasons. Hmm. Again, thanks for sharing, I really appreciate you letting me know. I’m sure it wasn’t fun for you to do that. It’s truly been a pleasure getting to know you. You have a beautiful soul in there, and you’ve put a consistent smile on my face since day one. But, I totally respect the fact that you need space. Like I said, I hope (know) this year will be great for you. Also, rhetorical statement – but it goes without saying that I’ll miss that smile of yours. If you ever need someone removed from family and friends to talk to – about anything – I’m still a great listener 🙂.”
I’m not going to lie. Obviously, a part of my first message was fluffed up. I knew I didn’t want to see Bryan a while ago. Otherwise, I feel that what I sent was a very honest message. I do feel bad for the way I led Bryan on for so long, especially given my experiences over the past year with guys doing the same thing to me. It was shitty of me. There’s no way around it. A part of me did want to hang on to Bryan. I enjoyed his company. However, I also knew we would never develop a long-term, romantic relationship – and Bryan needed to know that. All of this being said, it does feel as though a huge weight has now been lifted off my shoulders.
It’s ironic. In an attempt to take the easy way out and break free of dead-end relationships, I’ve actually used the “mentally unstable” excuse before on a couple of guys. I never thought it would ever be true, though. In many ways, I really have dropped off socially.
Let’s cut the shit, though. At the end of the day, I can make all the excuses I want. The truth is that I just wasn’t that into Bryan anymore. I didn’t want to commit to someone who I knew I didn’t have a future with, but I also didn’t want to randomly call up Bryan in the middle of the night and deliver that news over the phone. At least our relationship has ended amicably. Thank God. I feel free. I don’t like lying to people, but Bryan was one situation that had lingered on much longer than it should have. I didn’t know how to break free. Now, I can move on.
It didn’t take long for that to happen, by the way. After my phone call with Bryan, Grumpy – an old fling from Florida – texted me, asking if I was awake. Within five minutes of my response, I was then watching Grumpy masturbate onto his stomach via FaceTime. Classic Grumpy.
When that was over, I received a message from that new hockey guy on Grindr. I haven’t written much about him, but we’ve been sporadically chatting over the last week. His name is Mike, and he’s a semi-pro hockey player from Sudbury. I think. I really don’t know how sports work. Tonight, Mike said that he wanted to take me on a date tomorrow while he’s in town for work. We’ll meet at 8 p.m., and I get to pick the restaurant. Okay. Fine by me. The evening should be interesting. Gay guys from Northern Ontario are a breed of their own.
After penciling Mike in, I did my floor exercises to combat the grilled cheeses I inhaled for dinner, then popped a Xanax after a Mariah Carey song sent me into a childish temper tantrum – featuring me covering my ears and repeating, “No, no, no, no, no!”
Now, it’s time for bed.
Goodnight xo
“Cry.” - Mariah Carey