Sex, Drugs, and Trying to Get Off the Island

I think my psychiatrist is convinced NBF and I were doin' it. There was this very strange bit of conversation today about me being "sexually active" (matters because migraine doc is making me go to the gyno for hormone meds it instead of just writing me a prescription, largely as incentive to make me go to the gyno...blech).

Dr. Shrink: Are you sexually active?
me: Yes. Well, I don't know how active, but yes.
Dr: What do you mean by that?
me: I do sometimes have sex but it's not exactly a frequent or regular thing
Dr: When was the last time you ad intercourse?
me: Duh...um...what day is it? A month ago? No, more than that...a month and a half? Something like that.
Dr: [sounding like he'd gotten me in a trap] Was this your friend that moved away?
me: Oh god no. We were never like that.

Then I started rambling about occasional circumstances presenting themselves and sometimes lead to intercourse blah blah blah, but I think he took my weird bumbling as me trying to cover that NBF and I were actually lovers instead of me just being a bumbly person not sure how to explain things to my attractive and young enough you'd think he'd be less suspicious of a 27-year-old having occasional casual sex psychiatrist.

I have new friends in my neighborhood. They're Neighbor Guy's fault. Most of them are gay males. I'm also now connected to a surprising number of ex-navy men. They all hang out at the bar that's around the corner from my condo. Very convenient. I'm currently on the zero booze migraine diet, but mixes of juices make me feel fancy. I'm writing like I do this all the time when I've actually been once. Well, I went with NBF and I think I even dragged my sister before, since it's right here, but I never actually talked to people I didn't already know before.

I'm watching obscene amounts of LOST. You can see all five seasons online, and now that I'm physically incapable of concentrating on anything that requires more than a minute of my input, movies/tv shows and walking the dog are about the only ways I get any stimulation. I'm really excited I could write as much as I've written tonight. I'm spacing out pretty badly between sentences and clauses and having a hard time getting this last paragraph down, so I think I'm spent, but it felt good to get this much out. I started a paper journal again hoping it would be easier to keep up now that I'm a space cadet, but I write so much slower by hand that I get less out and once I start spacing out I'm a goner. Ok, I'm a goner now. Stoned writing again, except without the pot. We cut my Neurontin in half starting today so maybe I'll be better soon. As of now, who needs marijuana when your daily breakfast comes in pill form and your own saliva requires a side effects warning label?

Ugh. Brain fried. Fried fried fried.