When I wake up in this apartment, it feels good. I enjoy it. I appreciate feeling rested in my bed, which is actually quite cozy. I love seeing the sun come in through the windows while relaxing with a cup of cold coffee and some peanut butter on toast. This is what I’ve always wanted. My own space, and the freedom to do whatever I want within it. Then, the sun fades. As the Witch Cave gets darker, I feel lonelier.

I think about how I could make things better. After all, I’ve got to be able to live on my own. At this rate, I don’t exactly have guys lining up to take me out. Apart from getting a cat, it will probably be just me for a while. I think one of the problems with this space is that perhaps it’s just too small. When you are essentially living in one dark room for two years, it does things to you. While I enjoy this apartment at times, I also feel claustrophobic. Lonely. Anxious.

What takes everything to a whole other level is when I break down what it costs to live here. As it stands right now, I work 40 hours a week at a job I hate so that I can then spend half of my month’s pay on rent for an apartment I am not all that enamored with in the first place. It’s foolish. I am ready to move back home, but I’m not exactly jumping towards it. I want these next few weeks to enjoy what’s left of the Witch Cave. I know I’ll miss it.

I slept in this morning. After my coffee and some breakfast, I began to tackle each chore on my list. I put on my Mariah Carey Merry Christmas vinyl, did some writing, washed the dishes, took out my garbage and recycling, then tackled the $1,500 worth of Zara clothes sitting on my couch. After an obscene amount of chicken for lunch – my one real meal for the day – I geared up for the afternoon and left my apartment.

Almost breaking my arms on the way to Canada Post, I dropped off the four Zara return boxes and continued my walk to the gym. Once there, I settled in and did my thing. Despite fantasizing about a potential locker room throw down and getting an erection on my gym mat, nothing notable happened during my workout. No sight of Leonardo. It’s like the guy from a couple of months ago. Either these boys need to hit the gym more often, or I need to take more action when I have the chance.

I ended up walking home to squeeze in some extra cardio. Back at the Witch Cave, I started getting ready for the night. I wasn’t planning on drinking this evening, but as the events of tonight began to change, so did my stance on sobriety.

Originally, Dan and I were going to stop by his friend’s birthday pre-drink in the east end, then migrate with them to Clinton’s bar. Oddly enough, that birthday boy was best friends with Amanda from The Store.

When it was discovered that tonight was Business Woman’s Special and that Phillip might be having a house party nearby, our plans quickly changed. Now, we were going to Kensington Market and I would be hosting a pre-drink at the Witch Cave. Our crew also changed. Instead of just Dan and myself, it was now the entire group from our August New York City trip. Someone blabbed about it to Evan, so I felt obligated to invite him. Evan didn’t say much to anyone during the night, but he didn’t say a single word to Dan. Oy.

Our pre-drink was a lot of fun. Music videos were playing, wigs and heels came out of my black hole of a closet, and we all had a really great time. This is exactly what I wanted from my last few weeks at the Witch Cave. Although I’m ready to move on, I’ve sure as hell made a lot of memories here – for better and for worse. Sometimes, I do feel as though there are too many toxic memories stored up in this place, though. It’s bad energy, man. Fortunately, I can combat that spooky juju with great memories like tonight. There were eight of us in my apartment, so you can imagine how full it was.

In an attempt to make the most of our night, I hosted the pre-drink fairly early. By the time we went to Business Woman’s Special, it felt like it was after midnight. In reality, it was only about 10:30 p.m. We purposely arrived early to avoid any sort of line up. Once inside the club, we sat down at a table and waited five minutes for the place to go from a ghost town to a nut-to-butt crowd.

I held off on buying a drink as long as I could, which was surprisingly almost two hours. We danced, danced, and danced some more. When Mariah Carey’s “Honey” came on, I absolutely lost my shit. I started dancing on a small square stage with Dan like I was Cousin Vicky from Vegas Vacation. Although slightly embarrassing, I really don’t care. Fuck it. For once in my life, I’m passionate about something. I love Mariah Carey. If I want to get on a stage in the middle of a crowded club and live out my five-octave stripper dreams, then so fucking be it. Let me live, goddamn it!

I was drunk. Let’s not beat around the bush here. I wasn’t blackout or messy by any means, though. In fact, I thought I kept it together quite well. I saw a lot of guys I knew at Business Woman’s Special, but nobody I wanted to make a move on. For that matter, none of them made a move on me, either. I feel like there might have been one guy, but as last night has shown us, sometimes I’m not so quick on the uptake when a guy is laying down the moves. I think that’s because when I think of “laying down the moves,” it’s literally just me going up to someone and asking them a very blunt question. I don’t want to flirt with a guy by batting my eyes at him from across the room. If I did that, all they would have to do is look a foot to their right and find someone more attractive. Not on my watch!

Business Woman’s Special was fantastic. I always love that party. Considering this was my first – maybe second – visit all year, tonight was long overdue. Wait. Really? Shit. How is it already November?

Once we got the all-clear that Phillip was still having a house party, Dan and I decided it was time to migrate. By this time, it was around 1:30 a.m. We walked to Phillip’s. By the time we arrived, it was close to 2 a.m.

Naturally, who was the first person I saw when I walked into Phillip’s basement? PW. I knew he would be there, but I think my mind was elsewhere all night. As such, I hadn’t devised a plan of attack for my arrival and impending meet and greet.

“Hello,” PW said to me, about three-feet away from Phillip.

Given PW’s proximity to my brother, I wasn’t about to make a scene. I had to be on my best behavior tonight.

“Hello,” I replied, leaning in for a hug.

Awkward. I grabbed Dan’s hand, and brought him upstairs with me.

“That was the guy from this summer,” I told Dan while rummaging through Phillip’s fridge for drinks.

“Oh, really!” Dan squealed. “He’s ugly!”

Ah. Thank God for Daniel Jacobson. My prodigy.

Although I’ve moved on from PW, I do wonder what his feelings on tonight’s encounter were. After all, I’ve blocked him on every social media account I have. If PW’s ever looked me up – which I assume he has, given his love of Instagram – he probably knows that I’m less than impressed with him. But, what was I supposed to do with tonight’s situation? Pull an “I don’t know her” and walk out? Not exactly the classiest way to make an entrance.

Fortunately, PW and his crew didn’t stick around much longer after Dan and I arrived. I don’t know if it was due to the time, or because I scared them away. I’m fine with either reason. Basically, the evening ended with myself, Dan, Phillip, and a couple of Phillip’s roommates listening to music in the basement.

By this point, I was fading fast. I don’t remember much of my trip home. As usual, I overdid it. My track record does seem to be improving, though. Apparently, I can now make it through 80-90% of the night before I am out of commission until morning.

Dan and I shared an Uber to the Village. I crawled into bed as soon as I got back to the Witch Cave. Damn. I thought I remembered a lot more than I did. Now, I’m drawing blanks. I feel like I talked to a lot more people tonight than I can remember. There were a couple of guys at Business Woman’s Special – including Spencer Grant, who seems to be fucking everywhere these days. I also feel as though I had a deeper conversation with Phillip at his apartment. I can’t recall what it was about, though. Or, if it even happened. Damn.

Goodnight xo