I spent New Year's Eve alone, as planned, watching New Year's Eve and drinking mouthfuls of blackberry whiskey. I considered finding myself a random hook up, but I knew I wouldn't enjoy it and it sounded like a lot of work. I tried to avoid social media (something I only recently realized can trigger my depression in a massive and sudden way) and enjoyed my casual night in. I don't remember much, but I'm pretty sure I cried a lot. I was very drunk. And, per usual, lonely.
As I said in my previous post, I got to see Danny in a play back in December, and he was able to come see the one I had written. I sent him the information and told him to pick a date. With his schedule, he could only attend on one night. The issue with this performance? I was already aware that Katie, my ex, was attending that night. Not only was it still somewhat awkward for me to be around her, I couldn't even imagine bringing the boy I'd been hooking up with. I freaked.
Danny and I started seeing each other the week before Thanksgiving. For the first few weeks, things continued to be extremely casual. We'd hang out, watch some Netflix, I'd get a little something and he'd be on his way. It was a great arrangement, believe it or not. There was no part of me that saw this becoming a relationship at all, but I was having a good time and I had something to distract me from my sadness. It was fun.
I'm going to step away from the gripping will-they-or-won't-they Grindr romance to talk about something that we're all probably sick of by now.
I'm sorry. I have to. The Illinois primary is tomorrow and its on my mind. And look - I have recently felt like I have been in a closet again. Coming out as queer was hard, but honestly? Coming out as a supporter of Hillary Clinton legitimately gets a more judgmental response. What happened that forced the Democratic party to split down the middle in such an ugly way?
Okay, so if you're someone who happens to know who I really am, this is the part of my story where I have to admit that I didn't meet Danny on whatever app I told you I did. I also did not meet Danny on the train (lol) but doesn't that sound like a fun little story? It's not that I'm in a closet of any kind, I just don't even know if I like hooking up with guys yet (way more on that later, believe me.) And Grindr has a stigma. Grindr paints a picture. Unless you're a gay man shamelessly out and in-tune with his sexuality (and seriously, GOOD FOR YOU), you don't necessarily want your coworkers or friends to know that you use an app that presents to you the booty pics of the closest 100 men in your vicinity.
For the first two months after Katie and I broke up, I sunk as deep into my mattress as I possibly could. I spontaneously rescued a puppy with the hope that her love could fill the void - and while I love this dog to death, the void remained. I stopped eating and lost thirty pounds. Unfortunately, I was thrilled.
Hello, reader. Welcome.
Who the fuck are you?
What are you doing here?
There are far too many shitty, rambling blogs out there for you to just randomly find mine.
I don't buy it.
Who are you?
I guess that really wasn't a polite greeting.