Here's the deal so far.

I met with Patrick the PTP yesterday for an hour and a half. Nice guy, military background, helpful, encouraging, supportive--all the things I'm cautious about in a person. Sarcastic, cynical, doubtful, lazy, antagonistic--these are in my comfort zone. Don't get me wrong. I admire people with rosy outlooks. I'm just cautious around them.

We talked about me (my favorite topic) for 30 minutes or so. I didn't scare him off.  Might have been the fact that he perceived simultaneously my unspoken realization that military guys sometimes kill people and my complete lack of confidence in my own ability to achieve my inarticulate goals that tipped him off. At one point, he asked me if it was fair to describe my motivation level as high, but my confidence level as low. Quickly I asserted a hearty "Well, if you think so." After he entered my cardiologist's number in his speed dial, he said, "Are you ready?"

We worked out for about an hour. We--funny word to use here.  Worked out--another strange term.  About an hour--I'm doubtful not just of my confidence but my own veracity here.  Here's what I know: I got there at 6:00 and walked out the door under my own power at 7:30.  I know that I could barely use my arms to turn the steering wheel of my truck at 7:31.  I know that I felt like I was going to throw up. I know my ears were sore this afternoon. I know that I have to take a break from typing every few moments to rest my armpits. I know I need to go back.  I know it's expensive.

I think I remember telling Patrick the PTP that I'd call him on Friday. Maybe I can confuse him with my Civilian Responsibility Avoidance Program.