A stab at change...

Life has been a little busy as of late.

The time is really flying by. Here it is, already June 6, and I feel like I don't have a lot to show for my summer. It's frustrating and trying. I miss having things to do, people to visit. I think I just sort of miss Toronto.

But it's not like I've been morose about it. I haven't really had the time. Last Saturday, I drove the 5 hours to surprise one of my best friends at her birthday party. More on this later, but the important note is that I stayed until Wednesday.

Wednesday night, after just getting back from my trip, I get a phone call from someone in Toronto. My roommate, who has been in Europe for the past month, is coming back Thursday afternoon. We all have to go out and see Sex and the City because she's held off seeing it in favor of a group outing.

I begged to get out of it, saying that I'd just driven 1000 kilometers in the past five days, and really didn't feel like leaving home again. (I also had some semi-secret plans with someone else, but more on that later too).

The next thing I knew, I was being guilted into a last minute trip to Toronto, since 'this might be the last time all of us are together for a long time' because of people suddenly moving far away, getting careers and so on.

So I wound up dragging my ass back to the big city, for one night of togetherness that included Sex and the City, a homecooked dinner, a roundtable discussion on the couch and watching my roommate fall asleep at 10 p.m. Afterwards, I wound up talking until 1 a.m. with our friend while my roommate slept on the couch, a lightening storm putting on a show for us.

All in all, a mostly clam evening that I could have truthfully done without. But in my condition of near-perpetual boredom and under-stimulation, it was something at least a little worth while.

But it was the simple question of my other roommate that made me want to spice things up, shake myself out of this blase attitude.

"So, what are you going to do tomorrow morning? Probably get Starbucks and a paper, and read, right?" she asked, innocently.

And it all sort of hit me, the over-riding sense that I'm in some sort of life rut. Am I so predictable that on a one-day random trip to Toronto, my morning routine will already be recognized?

On the one hand, I look at it as sort of special. It's my routine, my life, who I am. I don't know any 21-year-olds who sleep just a few minutes too much, shower, go for coffee and the New York Times, read it cover to cover, and then carry on with their day. It feels very much like me.

But on the other, I see a stagnant, old man. Should I really be doing this sort of thing at my young age? Shouldn't I be out being reckless and stupid while it's acceptable? Why do I care about something as stupid as a comment on my usual morning routine?

It gnawed on me, a little. It, and the fact that I'm lonely and horny all the time.

So I did something slightly spontaneous, something I haven't done for a while. I ordered out for ass.

A few clicks, a few words, and hours of waiting...a sense of want and excitement. I had set my sights on a Friday morning fling, and I was actually really looking forward to it. This would certainly shake up my morning routine.

Lo and behold, at 11:00 while checking my e-mail, there was a gorgeous guy sitting in my inbox. I commented to my friend, who was in the loop by that time, that he was pretty much 98% my type. I fired off a quick response, and waited for his reply.

By 1 a.m., when everyone was off to bed, he still had not replied to my reply. I tried to do two things: to not worry that I'm not going to get laid, and to not get too enthralled with the notion that in less than 12 hours I could be sleeping with the most stunning guy.

Sleep came and went easily, and for the first time in a while I woke with sun streaming into my room and a smile on my face. I chalk it up to the weather, but I just felt really good. I lay in bed, enjoying the sun and the few moments just after waking up.

Then I realized that I should be checking my e-mail in the hopes that the boy would have replied. Jumping out of bed, I notice that I have a huge line across my forehead thanks to sleeping strangely on my pillow/sheets. No matter, once I shower it'll be gone, long before he gets here.

In eager anticipation I check my e-mail. 1 new message! I click...only to find it not from who I was hoping it would be, but some other vague yet attractive guy.

I waited for an hour, checking my e-mail and attending to some things online. Still no response. My spontaneous moment was shot to shit. The one morning that I attempt something completely random, to break the mold and have a little (lot) of fun, and it falls flat on it's ass.

At least it did switch up the morning routine, minus the orgasm induced by a really hot blond.