Going to the gym last night was like the best thing for me ever. I so need to get back into that groove.

I signed up for 12 more sessions with Edmund - twice a week for six weeks. If I can't get this done in six weeks, it's more mental than physical and I'll just tackle that issue if and when it comes up.

Edmund just makes me feel so good about myself. He said I was looking good and like I've lost some weight. I so know I've gained those few pounds back, but it was nice to hear anyway.

We just have this flirtatiousness about our banter that's fun. He's fun. I mean, aren't you supposed to flirt with your personal trainer? Isn't that some kind of unwritten gym rule?

He just reminds me so much of Marcus it's almost creepy.

I've never had an interracial relationship before. I'm not opposed, it's just never come up. Well, not true. It's never come up with a guy I'd consider dating.

But Marcus was adorable. Hot actually. And so sweet. But he was not Hannah boyfriend material. For one, he was younger than me. I had one year of college left, he still had to tackle three. He played football at MU. M told me he was voted Chicago's best player his senior year, but his grades excluded him from a lot of the serious football programs. And that would be point two against him. He wasn't the brightest bouncer at the bar.

The night I met him he dragged Bridge and me to a football party. It was hysterical - he introduced me to every player that walked through the door and half of them were like, Oh yeah, I've heard so much about you. I mean, how smooth can you get? How many player patterns do you have nailed down?

But Marcus pretty much chased me that entire summer and into senior year as well. He even laid down the whole I wanna take you home to meet my momma spiel.  

One night he offered to drive me home, but ended up zooming right past my house and took me to his apartment complex instead. After much discussion on the stairwell and the whole "Just sleep with me, we don't have to do anything, I just wanna hold you in my bed" to "You're the most beautiful woman in the world" flatteryblahblah I relented and told him I'd go in for ten minutes. Actually, what I think made me cave was that he told me I have pretty feet. I'd never heard that before, and as a girl who grew up getting teased for having freaky toes (they're long, okay? Deal with it.) it sort of got me. Right there.

Yeah, I'm a hardass, I know.

We go inside and he shows me the football he sleeps with. I'm not kidding you. Suddenly he's totally naked. (Okay, not suddenly, but work with me.) I don't know if you've ever seen a 225 lb black man totally buff but whoa. When I asked him what he was doing and informed him that I, in fact, would not be having sex with him he stormed off in a huff. Out the door. Down the stairs. Through the parking lot.

I'm following him, his pants in my hand half-laughing, half-slightly panicking like, Marcus WHAT are you doing?

He gets in his car and I follow him. He's still not talking. And he's still very naked. Then he just starts muttering, "that was shitty. That was so shitty." I'm trying hard not to laugh, because really, what kind of picture is this? Him, buck naked, driving his little Corolla, at like 4 a.m. with a completely clothed blonde girl in the passenger seat.

He dropped me off and about five minutes later called to apologize. He still pursued me, but we never hooked up after that. I couldn't get the picture of him driving me home naked out of my head.