Mere hours before posting this, and way after I wrote it, Clark actually joined a gym. This comic is becoming a psuedo-fortune telling device, obviously. I think the next comic will be about me winning the lottery, having an Australian AND a British boyfriend, and a lifetime supply of Dunk-a-roos.
I love going to the gym. Or, at least I think I do–it’s been a while, ok? However, the only gym I’ve been to on a consistent basis is my little liberal arts college gym. Not exactly the meat market that, say, the 24-hour Fitness downtown Seattle is. I’ve lost count of how many “missed connections” I’ve read from that place. William goes there. He tells me stories. The kind of stories good porn is based off. I tell him I don’t believe it, but I do...I want to believe…
It is waaaay too hot for my liking. I broke a sweat today from having a conversation.
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