Work my Magic

         I got the digits of my boot camp instructor. I worked up a sweat for that one. ;)

I am crushing on him. Big time. I cannot look at him. I smile like a cheese. And I probably blush. There is something about him that is so attractive. I love that he works out. Such a turn-on. He is very poised, yet has a good sense of humor.  And he’s black. The dark kind.

I can seriously see myself on a date with him. He is not ghetto. He sounds like a white guy. Now that I have his number, I don’t know what to do with it. He is not the typical flirt trainer at the gym. He is serious but knows how to joke around to get the class motivated. However, he is very touchy feely. He can use the excuse that he is a trainer and wants to make sure we are in the right position. Smooth.

We were paired up and had to plank and shake the hand of our partner, and then switch hands. Then I felt a set of hands around my waist. Oh. My. Goodness.

“Why are you pushing me down?!” Picture this: I am in a plank and he is behind me, literally on top of me. It felt like he was putting a stack of weights around my hips to make the plank tougher.

“I’m not pushing you down! I have my hands around your hips to keep them straight.”

          Might as well shove his ween in there with that position. Ouch!

          “Doesn’t that feel good when your stomach is tight?!” he said, roughly patting my stomach, still in a plank.

          Good God almighty.

          After class I told him I would see him tomorrow. My co-worker wanted to give boot camp a try, so I asked him for pricing yesterday.

          “Where is your friend?”

          “Ummmm…I didn’t talk to her.” The truth is, she said “hell no” to boot camp because it is expensive.

          He was looking for trial cards on the counter. BS…he never had any.

          “Call me tomorrow then. I can’t find them. Do  you have my number?”

          “No….”

          “What?!” He proceeds to give me his number and I diligently dial it on my phone. I hope my number registered on his phone.

          “Call me tomorrow then.”

          OK!

          He could just be doing business, but I don’t care.

          Unfortunately, my parents would really disown me if I had dated a black guy. It’s a shame how unacceptable it is. He can be a really great guy, yet they would not allow it because of his skin color.

         I could just be going through a craving for chocolate....but it's so good.

         I will work out my fingers and dial his number tomorrow.

Keepin’ it real,

   Realist