Holy GOD am I ever sore. Every fucking muscle in my goddam body is aching now--with the exception of Little Robin, that is. He's the ONLY one who didn't get a major workout last night.
(Speaking of "Robin," I don't think Bruce was too crazy about the new name. Sounds too effiminate, he says. I told him it was more androgynous; I mean, there are plenty of male Robins--Robin Leach, Robin MacNeill, Robin... Hood. He says Hood is the wrong image--we don't steal from the rich and give to the poor, after all. But Bruce himself is rich, and he's diverting his income to those less fortunate, so it sort of fits. Anyway, I just like the sound of it. Sort of campy--which, of course, Batman TOTALLY hates. But he's willing to live with it during this trial period. Guess you could say Robin is on probation for the next few months.)
The costume, at least, passed muster for the time being. "It'll do for training," he says. But if I ever do go out on patrols I'll need something reinforced, probably with Kevlar. He also wants me to have a cape, although if you ask me it looks like it'll just get in the way. I also need a proper "utility belt"; the fannypack I've got now just won't cut it. He says he'll have his butler/servant/whatever get to work on it as soon as he's back in town. (This Alfred guy is evidently on vacation or something now, so I haven't met him yet.)
Bruce picked me up at the usual time last night, only this time he was in his regular car (VERY nice), dressed as Bruce Wayne, and I got to actually sit in the front seat during the ride and not wear a blindfold. We're making progress, I suppose. I had my Robin duds on underneath my street clothes, as he'd instructed me. I got a quick tour of the ground floor of his place--a stately manor if I've ever seen one (and until last night I hadn't)--then we shed our civvies and got to work. The warmup alone was half an hour long; lots of stretches and breathing exercises. Then he led me through a TWO HOUR exercise regimine more intense than even the most sadistic of gym coaches could ever dream up. Fifteen minutes rest break, then another two-hour tutorial on a computer database he's customized. That part had me bored out of my mind, but I guess it'a all part of the routine, and routine is clearly VERY important to this guy. We went over some basic interrogation procedures, and he left me with a stack of law books I'm expected to read in my, uh, spare time. This all seems completely over the top to me, and I don't know how he thinks I'm going to get through any reading before we meet again toni--
SHIT. I completely forgot I'm supposed to be getting together with Peter tonight. I've already blown him off (or rather NOT blown him off) all week, and now...
I don't know what to do. And I don't know which is less appealing: four more hours of boot camp with a deeply repressed but otherwise flawless stud, or an evening of vanilla sex and strained conversation with a cute guy who's no superhero.
Of course, Dr. T would point out here that I've framed the choice in the worst possible way. Looking on the bright side, no matter what I decide, I'll be spending the night with a hot man, building something I haven't had in my life up until now.
Great. Either way, I have to figure out something FAST.