Dear Blog,
Clouded judgment has led me to agreeing on going on a workout date. A crossfit workout date.
Do you know what might be just slightly less fun than -- but almost on par with -- a workout date, Blog? An evening with Ed Gein.
During my correspondence with Curtis*, I may have emphasized my fitness level with adjectives that are open to interpretation. To-may-to, to-mah-to : fit, unfit. Also in my defence, I tried to counter his workout suggestions with..."Can we settle this on an intense match of rock, paper, scissors?" I thought I would throw key words like "intense" in there to satiate his need for a vigorous activity.
It didn't work.
I ended up agreeing because I see the potential for humorous blog material. Let's face it. I have had a lack of fodder recently. Also, I bailed on one guy already. He is allegedly a coke dealer that moonlights as a DJ, and wanted to play badminton. I know! Badminton.
I am also documenting everything here in the case I do meet someone the likes of Ed Gein. That, and I've been reading Bram Stroker's Dracula, and the characters all write in their diaries. I must do the same! For fear that you, friend reader, may avoid the paths of a being with probabilities for folly thoughts, nay! For madness! There is a need to produce transcripts for what has hitherto been never been written in a diary by this hand.* * My surmise is this: I shall mostly encounter enemies of good.
Wait. What? I'm towards the end of the book, and they're getting all gnarly, and all "Council of War" against Dracula. .. I must do the same.
Yours,
E
* His real name
** This is lie. I've been writing about boy crushes since I was a fetus.