I am not very smart
(If you are an agent, possibly drawn here by my query letter, please look to the right and see the link "The best artciles on this site" and read some of those first. Thank you.) Apparently the quest to become the ultimate metrosexual is endless. Wendy has asked me multiple times if I wanted to go to the gym with her. My reply has always been “no.” My logic has always been: I need to run, and I need to do pushups and I don’t need to pay for anything. If I can focus on that, I can be in the shape I want. And now, I am so exhausted I can barely type. For some reason, the other day I said “yes, I will go to the gym with you." It’s a new very modern gym that we just wanted to check out with a free day pass. Wendy did an aerobic dance class and I did free weights. I used to work out a lot. Not a little, a lot. Of course, I was in my twenties then and I am forty-four now. But, doing bench presses was like embracing an old friend. I grabbed the bar and I was surprised how much