Shoot Me Now

a newfriend has inspired me to start blogging again,. so here it goes:
i'm exhausted from a late dinner (read: drinking) and i'm at my desk pondering how I ever got to this moment.

Will I always feel so inadequate? I'm not buff, rich, or successful enough to warrant my existence. Sounds harsh and self-pitying- but fuck you this is my blog and I can whine all I want.
It doesn't help that I have a friend who's the equivalent of Captain America and Regina George. I can't help but to compare myself against him and all the attention that gay men throw their way.

The love life is in shambles. My ex has hired a surrogate to carry his seed and she's fully three months pregnant....

I'm still in love with him. Probably always will be. I have had countless dreams in which we kiss passionately-which is odd given that we stopped doing that long ago.

I've been dating a young restauranteur who I wildly volley from adoring to abhorring. I'll call him some nights longing for his presence--other nights I'll recoil from his touch and find faults with the most random qualities- like the fact that he eats like shit. Onion Rings with mayonaise. Milk with whip cream.

It makes my skin crawl and I deny him sex.

My job is a comedy of errors. I'm the asisstant to perhaps the best publicist in the nation- I was promoted several months ago, but that transition is dragging on as my Devil Wears Charvet boss is having a hard time letting go, but I still don't know what kind of career I want.

30 is on the horizon- a little over a year and change away- and I have so much to do before I'm forced to do that survey of accomplishments.

So for now I'm eating my veggies, trying to stick to my gut and stay true to my values.

I need to take a pill now. Signing off- astro.