Everybody stinks
Baker and I had a walk home after work date. We hike from our offices near Copley Square up to Charles St. T stop. It is a very pleasant walk through the Public Garden and some of the tawny streets of Beacon Hill.

We chatted about his upcoming wedding (he’s trying to get in shape for it) and our maybe baby project (I’m getting in shape for it) and then despaired about our yuppieness by talking about our training schedules.

When we got to Charles St. we climbed the stairs and I parked on a bench.

Baker: You’re sitting?
Me: Yeah. I did this horrible squat thing on an unstable surface, on an incline.
Baker: Wow.
Me: Yeah, women are all about the core – so you do stuff on wonky surfaces so that you’ll strengthen your core. Do you know about that?
Baker: No. But men blast stuff – like we blast our quads.
Me: Excellent.

The train pulled up and was pretty crowded. We made our way on board.

Baker: Wow, it’s pretty full.
Me: Oh and it’s hot too. That’s a nice bonus.
Baker: It smells a little bit like a locker room.
Me: That might be me.
Baker: What?
Me: I worry that I still smell from the gym.
Baker: But they have showers, right?
Me: Yeah – of course. That’s where all the ladies stand around soaping each other up in softly lit, steamy community showers. Just like in your favorite porn. But seriously, I sweat a lot.
Baker: At least you admit it.
Me: I’m the first to admit when I stink. And I sweat – I don’t glisten.
Baker: Good to know.
Me: I might have accidentally blasted today. That might be the difference. I think I blasted my core.
Baker: You might want to talk to your doctor about it.