After I take Willa to music class at 1pm I drop her with my parents for an overnight, train a few clients, and have the night to do whatever I want.
As I’ve discussed ad nauseam, I want to have physical relations with a member of the male species.
I was having trouble finding this man but last week he magically appeared.
Well, I’ve known him for about a month, but last Saturday he made it clear that I should call him for a hang.
I’ll call him “Hank” to protect the innocent.
Hank is a trainer who I see every once in a while at the gym. He is take-your-breath-away gorgeous and has the sweetest smile to boot. Kind of a cross between Tyrese Gibson and the hot guy from Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” video. Our first convo happened when he expressed his concern that he had to drive to Century City during rush hour. I told him about a street called Willaman, that has stoplights all the way down to Pico, and he was intrigued. We looked at a map together and I told him this new route would change his life. I’ve seen him a few times since the map viewing and gave each other friendly greetings.
Last Saturday I was training one of my beyond amazing gay male clients, discussing how I had not been able to land the bone, as Hank walked in. I said to my client Andy, “Now that guy is ridic.” Andy pretended to faint and said he couldn’t even look at him, for he was too much sexy. Andy told me that Hank has to be the one I do the horizontal hustle with. He didn’t use those words, but you get the idea. Andy said I must speak with Hank after our session.
Hank caught me as I was leaving. He told me Willaman Street was indeed a life changer and we began a nice chat. He said something about my baby, and told me when I first returned to the gym he had heard some folks saying how I had a baby a year ago and you’d never know from looking at me. Hank congratulated me on my post-baby physique and it made me feel freaking GREAT. It also made me feel pretty good to know that peeps were discussing this behind my back. Wink emoji.
I told him I was getting divorced and he asked why. I explained that my husband was gravely ill and I didn’t have the strength or courage to take care of him since he was diagnosed with “Fuck-Ugly-Chicks-Instead-Of-Your-Wife-Syndrome,” that he was stricken with when I was pregnant. Hank was appalled, naturally, and asked me for my phone number. Before I gave it to him I made him tell me his last name so I could look him up on FB to make sure he wasn’t friends with “Afkah,” which stands for Artist Formerly Known as Husband if it’s your first time reading. He wasn’t. I explained I was not looking for a boyfriend, but I would be more than happy to spend time with him. He laughed and said he understood. He text me about an hour later and we had a good back and forth. He told me to please let him know if I had some free time over the next few days. I told him I’d let him know.
That brings us to now. I could call him for plans tonight but I’m a nervous wreck. My throat has been hurting the last few days and I’m going away this weekend so I’m giving myself the excuse that I need to turn in early so I don’t get sick. Gah! But if I don’t see him tonight I’ll have to wait another week and what if I puss out then too? I thought writing this post would bring me some clarity but it hasn’t. I guess we’ll just have to see. Perhaps I’ll see him at work tonight and we can go get a drink after. I don’t know!
I’ll end here. Maybe there will be a new blog post tomorrow, maybe not…
Thanks for reading!