In the words of Howie Dorough,

quit playing games with my heart.

So, I'm at the gym this morning with my trainer, lets call him Franklin. Little background info on Franklin: he loves me. He asks me out on a date every week. Yes, it's at the gym, and yes, I pay him for it, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, mid-way through our romantic date near the medicine balls and cardio machines the other day, he decides to make small talk and this is the convo that ensued:

F: "Oh, so did you pick up Ushers new CD?"
L: "Of course. Raymond vs. Raymond. I love it!"
F: "Whats your favorite track on it?"
L: "Ummm, I forget the name but its the one with thats Black Eyed Peas loser on it."
F; "Thats a good one. Ya know what my favorite is?"
L: "No, what is it?"
F: "Making Love into the Night."
L: ...silence...

First of all, hellllll no I don't have the new Usher CD! Why would I have the new Usher CD? It's not 2004. Here's a confession for you, Usher: no one likes you and your head is big. Not ego wise. It's literally big and awkward. And take off those damn sunglasses, Bono. The only thing good Usher's done lately is discover that little Canadian sensation, JB. (I am aware this is the second time I've mentioned Justin Bieber, and can guarantee it will not be the last.) Second of all, I'm sorry, WHAT?! You can NOT say shit like that to me unless you are ready to put a ring on it. Before he could get the word "night" out, I was already thinking about what shade of hydrangeas will adorn the tables at our late fall wedding. I was able to physically restrain myself from giving you a bear hug when you welcomed me to the gym with a pat on the shoulder. I took a deep breath and didn't pounce on you when you freed my braid from that medieval ab machine thing when it got caught around a bolt (yup). But then you come at me with "making love into the night" ?! Thanks. And way to catch me off guard. Here I am, trying desperately not to pass out from that janky ass exercise you had me doing involving two aerobic steps, a medicine ball, and a jump rope ALL AT THE SAME TIME, and then you practically propose to me? Can we NOT get engaged while I'm trying to find a discrete way to soak up all the sweat covering my face so that my contact doesn't pop out? (Yes, I have sweated out a contact before. It takes skill.)

After I was able to catch my breath and regain my physical and emotional balance, our session was over. We ended the day with a sensual high-five. I have to go now because I need to go think of a reason to go back to the gym post-shower, in regular clothes, looking decent so that Franklin can see what his future bride looks like when she's not panting like a Roman gladiator. Maybe I'll do the "I think I lost my earring here this morning" thing. Again.