Great. The guy at the gym just told Busan he looks like he has a girlfriend. Last night, he was looking at the photos I took of him on New Year’s Eve wearing the waistcoat and shirt I bought for him (not for the first time, it’s important to note — he had already seen them, but was looking at them again) and got all swaggery about how good he looked. Now he’s actually motherfucking hell bent on getting a six pack. I can’t deal with all of the diva if that happens. I really can’t.
Last night, I was asking him why on earth he wants to do something like that, and he said, “You’ll like it when it happens. When we go out, you’ll lift up my shirt and say, ‘Look at my man’s six pack!’ Like that.”
“Yes. I’m sure that’s going to happen. That sounds just like me.”
He was quiet for a few seconds and then giggled out loud.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You just imagined me doing that, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
