Gym Junkie

I wish he was just a Gym Junkie.
Because then I could forget him and the way that he made me feel.

I’ve fantasized what it would be like to be
with a man like Brock Marx, more than I care to admit.

Lately my gym visits have taken on a whole new meaning.
I'm not the kind of girl who does this sort of thing and
he's the kind of man that does.

He's sexy, dominant and built like a machine.
But worse than that, he’s witty and intelligent.
He makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Everything I thought I ever wanted doesn’t makes sense anymore.

I wanted him to be another dumb Gym Junkie, the look but don’t touch kind.

But he’s not…and I did.

What now?