One time, I emailed a gym for a friend to ask about membership rates and amenities. I'm not sure why she couldn't email them, but now I think it was actually just a clever ruse to make me go insane.
The gym chain, which will not be named for (probably) legal reasons, now emails me every single day, asking me to give them a chance.
It's like that time you thought it would be great to date a personal trainer, but then realized he only talked about fitness, getting you fit and protein shakes.
Oh, but I do miss those cheat days...
(Cheat days were when we would eat junk food. But also, we were swingers.)
This is why I feel the below image on a spiritual level:
Which friend sold you out like that, bro? I assume they worked out, and then went up to Heather and said, "Hey! I know a self-described fat sack of shit who would be perfect here!"
Maybe Heather has a loose definition of the word "friend."
Here's how I picture Heather's reaction:
Well played, sir. Well played, indeed.
Hopefully she'll have more luck in January: the busiest time of year for people who work at gyms.