weekends are rough

Whenever I have nothing urgent and important to do — no work, no errands, no nothing — I default to doing the most useless things ever. Like, for instance, stalking a certain you-know-who on Twitter.

Yep. That person. That guy. Same person. Yep.

I didn’t eat a single meal today because I wasted the whole day scrolling through certain people’s profiles, mostly his and his friends’. I learned that he went out for dinner and drinks last night. I learned that he moved to a different place (new apartment? condo?) this afternoon. I learned that he’s still in That City and that he’s planning to get a dog in the summer, or maybe a cat?

Anyway, I don’t normally waste an entire day doing something so egregiously useless, especially now that I have a new job that keeps me busy. The full-time doom-scrolling usually only happens during the weekends when I have literally nothing better to do.

So what do I do, friends? I have so much time in my hands and I have no idea what to do with it. What the hell do I do?

I opened a book today but I couldn’t get through its first few pages. I just wasn’t in the mood. I also stared at my good ole acoustic guitar but I couldn’t get myself to pick it up. (I really want learn SZA’s Kill Bill though, especially the Tagalog version.) I also thought about starting a new digital portrait but, I don’t know, man. I just don’t know.

Sometimes I’m just not in the mood to do anything that takes work, anything that requires energy, and so I end up doing the one thing that doesn’t force me to use more than one brain cell even if it drains my entire fucking soul.

Maybe things will get better next month, eh? Time is on my side, isn’t it?

I really need a new hobby. Something, anything that will get me outside of the house this winter. But the thing is I also want to save money. I already feel bad shelling out $400 earlier for pottery classes that don’t start until May. I even considered enrolling to beginner French classes but, same thing — eight once-a-week classes cost about $500. Bruh. And all because I want to stop thinking about a person? Bruh.

I already reactivated my dating app profile just to see what’s out there and maybe get a date, but nothing’s come out of it so far. I swear, man, there’s a dearth of single Filipino men around here. And among the very, very few Filipino men I encounter, most are super super new to the country. They’re so fresh I would have to show them around and drive them to places and basically do things that I really don’t feel like doing for strangers. It’s cool if they’re friends, but strangers? Nah, man. I’m good.

I am also considering reaching out to the dudes that I low-key ghosted when I was still trying to make things work with you-know-who. There’s one person in particular that I thought was really cute and smart, expect he’s not Filipino and, well, I met him after I met you-know-who. It’s been a couple months since I ignored this person’s message — do you think it’s cool if I all of a sudden text him? Or is that a dick move and it’s better to just leave him alone?

Same kinda deal with this other dude with whom I also chatted but never met irl. We were supposed to have coffee one weekend but I stopped replying because I really wanted me and you-know-who to work. I’m stupid, aren’t I? Also, I am very high-key insecure I was legit afraid this guy wouldn’t like me if we met in person. He’s a doctor, man. Like a legit physician. Meanwhile, what am I? I’m not hot enough to make up for my being a loser so, ya. Ghosted.

I guess I was also a dick, no? I’m sorry. I, too, need to be better.

To be honest, I also wasn’t exactly upfront even with you-know-who. I wouldn’t answer his questions; I evaded certain topics that I found to be too personal. There’s a line from Kim Gordon’s memoir that stuck with me: “I wonder whether you can truly love, or be loved back, by someone who hides who they are.”

In certain ways, that’s exactly what I did with you-know-who and with the other men — I hid myself from them. Being vulnerable scares me, man. I need therapy, don’t I?

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Featured photo by Gareth David