Even though my parents’ basement held an endless supply of boobie books to educate me on what was where, I had no idea how to get these beautiful creatures to disrobe in front of me. With little training in my high school years, I was officially inept in the art of scoring in my early twenties. Larry, my personal training manager at Precision Fitness, warned me about how much tail I would find myself swimming among. He told me that I would be getting up close and personal with some of my clients after a few weeks or months of training them. I doubted everything Larry told me, and I quickly assured him that nothing like that would happen to me, as I was determined to be on my best behavior at all times. I also let him know that I lacked the skills necessary to accomplish sealing the deal with women. Despite how much I expressed my lack of lady luck, Larry must have seen something in me that reminded him of his early training days and felt the need to give me a fair warning. I had no idea that what Larry was warning me about would actually happen to me. Larry told me that, in his years as a trainer, he found himself in some precarious situations without much effort on his part. Had I only listened to Larry, maybe all this would have only happened in a dream. Maybe I could have spared myself the soap opera–ish shit that would eventually transpire over the better part of my twenties.