The night before the Soiree, I had a busy social calendar. Anastasia and I met for a drink at a bar near my office. I haven’t been able to find a replacement for the bar, which the pandemic extinguished, but lately, I’ve been frequenting a dark, sexy little place I’ll call “EJ’s.” EJ’s isn’t perfect, by any means. It’s overpriced. It’s a little smaller than I might like. Their scotch selection is limited. And the crowd is relatively small and if not exactly unfriendly, it’s not a crowd that tends to mingle. EJ’s has three things, though, that make it good enough for me: proximity, ambience, and the insanely cute hostess and server who captivates me the 75% of the time I’m there that she’s there. Maybe I’ll write more about her sometime, but for now, just picture this:
But a solid 12 inches shorter.
I know, right?
So Anastasia and I met and chatted – just walking through basic logistics, catching up more generally, and having a good time. We only had an hour, as I had a second date scheduled with H, a college friend of mine with whom I have an unfailingly raucous, fun, and emotionally connected time. H has been through a decade-long rough patch, which she’s weathered with incredible aplomb and vulnerability both: I admire her, and love spending time with her. Once upon a time, H and I had a sexual relationship. It hasn’t been sexual in several dog’s ages, but we genuinely love and enjoy one another, and time together is always well spent. I overstayed my welcome in H’s incredibly gorgeous relatively small apartment. We drank too much. Ate too much (and yet, not enough; we didn’t have dinner, just cheese and crackers and grapes). And when, finally, she told me it was time for me to go, I knew she was right. I headed home, where I popped two 5mg Camino sleep gummies, and passed out, hard.
I slept well – deep, long….
I woke up, and, before leaving, connected with T, who is out of town. We talked about the upcoming festivities as well as about some other stuff swirling around our shared, rich, full lives. And I left to meet my step-father for one of our periodic breakfasts. As I made my way toward him, I realized just how high I was: walking felt like trudging through heavy snow. Time seemed to be passing incredibly slowly. I was woozy, groggy….
Breakfast unfolded uneventfully, and at the end of it, I was just as high as I’d been at its start. I walked to my office, where I’d planned to put the finishing touches on my gift bags, assemble a collection of rope and toys to bring, step out to the gym, and then get myself to the hotel. Problem was? I could barely think. So, instead of getting to work, I made a little schedule for myself (dictated a voice memo and had ChatGPT organize it into the following), and went to sleep, setting my alarm for 2 pm – giving me, as you’ll see, an hour prior to my meditation.
- Gift Bag Preparation
- Load gift bags with panties, gift certificates, and t-shirts.
- Place gift certificates in envelopes with recipients’ names.
- Insert the table of contents at the top of each bag.
- Financial Tasks
- Text Saya about their money [more on this to come].
- Place their money in separate envelopes.
- Packing
- Pack the rope, paddle, and vibrator.
- Remember to take the Prosecco.
- Personal Tasks
- Meditate at 3 p.m.
- Leave for the gym at 3:45 p.m.
- Take a Chantix and pregabalin.
- Gift Evaluation
- Review items and decide if you can give five or six gifts.
I inflated my neck traction collar [back problems suck], lay down in the new, incredibly comfortable recliner I’ve bought to sit in because of my back problems, closed my eyes, and fell deep asleep in a matter of moments.