First you've got the meat heads aka juiceheads or gorillas. The guys that walk, excuse me, strut around with their arms moving from side to side instead of from front to back because their muscles get in the way of normal movement. They usually have a sidekick, ya know someone to make sure the 500 pounds they are lifting above their bodies don't come crashing down on them. Hey, the zoo called and you're all due back by 8pm.
Then you've got the girls who I think I should hate. These women are always perfectly outfitted, don't shed a drop of sweat, but are somehow in perfect shape. Isn't it always the way? You decide someone is awful until you're forced to talk to her or you hear her talking to someone else and you realize how ridiculous it was that you hated her. Wow, she seems nice. However, there is one woman I truly cannot stand and I think she knows it. She talks to all the guys but in a way that she's trying too hard to be one of them or to get in with the in crowd. News flash: just because you lift with them does not mean they like you. Oh and your hat is ugly and distracting.
There are the dads that look like Olympic athletes. They were probably stud track runners back in the day that refuse to be out of shape. They eat to win, they run to win, they work to win, and they are currently raising young boys and girls who play sweet lax...to win. Mozel.
I sometimes come across the guys who seem to have a dysfunction of the eyes. I think they call it, "My Eyes are Glued to Your A$S and/or Breasts Syndrome." They're like little boys seeing boobies for the first time on television. However instead of pretending like they weren't when mom walks in the door, I swear they don't even care if you catch 'em in the act! Luckily, there is a treatment plan for this condition...I hear it involves a dirty magazine and Jergens #sorryimnotsorry
I love the older women who are still rockin' a legit sweat band across the middle of their foreheads.
I could go on and on about the kids lifting weights who don't even look old enough to see a PG-13 movie, the former classmates that you pretend not to notice, and the chauvinistic man with his trophy wife bopping around together in matching outfits but I won't. I'll turn to another important group: the trainers. Back in the day the trainers were the people who got me there half the time! They were good-looking, charming, and buff but now I think my gym put a height requirement on new hires because the majority of them are 5'5" on a tall day!
So anyway, then there's me, a group of my own. Well I shouldn't say that exactly because I'm sure Lauren falls under this category for sharing the same gym tendencies as I have. For starters, I look around all the time. I must drive the people on the treadmills next to me absolutely bonkers because I'm constantly invading their space. I wish I could tell them that I'm not looking at them or at how fast they are running but I'm usually just checking things out. On occasion though I am looking for someone specific.
Gym Crush Numero Uno: I'd guess he's in his early thirties, brown hair, tall enough, and generally accepted good-looking. He's kind of pissing me off lately because either he's not coming to the gym a lot or he's changed his schedule. I noticed yesterday that he came in as I was walking into a class so maybe he's coming later now or something...whatever. I've been waiting for a convenient meet-up, walk-by, or water fountain rendezvous to occur so I can talk to him but it never works out. I'm not willing to miss a class or even be late for one to try and force this issue. I'm also not pushing it because I have yet to receive any sorta vibe from him. At first I always think that it's me who gives out the b!tchy vibe, especially at the gym, but after yesterday's incident I think I have to adjust my thinking and get over Gym Crush Numero Uno.
What happened yesterday you ask? I got a vibe regardless of my attitude. So there's Gym Crush Numero Dos, who I guess is now Gym Crush Uno y Solo. I still can't really figure out what he does at the gym but he works there for sure. As far as I can tell he's not a trainer but he's always on the main floor testing out the equipment. He's deceivingly built and I say deceivingly in that he still has a neck. He's tall. He's tan. He's my type especially because he's a bit older. I'm hoping not older enough to run for the hills if he ever finds out how old I am. I digress...
So yesterday I'm running on my usual treadmill and I see him come out of an office door. I stare. I stare longer than one should stare. He stared back. The game has started. He fiddles around with some new machine, still a decent distance away from me but when he stands up he's looking at me....and I'm still staring. God forbid I actually smile at him! No instead I have to play it cool which could come off as the b!tchiness I spoke of earlier. So then he takes a gander through the aisle in front of my treadmill. He's not looking at me as he's approaching so I don't look at him. I can't do this omg I'm such a loser. Stare at your iPod. So I do and I have no idea if he looked at me or not. What a wuss. Then I go into my Zumba class (she was no Allison J but I'll take it) and forget about the whole thing.
I left the class early and headed down the stairs to leave. As I'm turning onto the main hallway of my gym, I see him walking towards the staircase. He's not looking at me, but I'm obvs looking at him. I go to walk by thinking the staring game was just in my head but then that horribly awkward thing happens. We were already kind of passed each other but I sorta slow motioned around as he says, "Have a great day." I've seen him around enough to know that he doesn't normally say things like that to customers, it's not in his job description. I also know it because other people walked by him before I approached that he didn't say a word to!
However unlike the pig at the water fountain incident a few months back, the quick-witted words did not come to me. First of all, I was practically mid-sip on my water bottle which made it even more terrible. I tried to stop mid-pour and after a weird pause all I could come up with was, "thank...you." In theory, this seems reasonable enough (minus the awkward pause between the two words) but if only you could have heard the baby voice that came outta my normally sass pot mouth. UGH. I'm already worried about this guy thinking I'm a kid and here I am all "thank you" (in a higher than normal pitch, very blahh and uninviting tone). It wasn't even like a baby-ish, sex kitten, cutesy sorta thing...it was just miserable. As I walked away, still processing what just happened and biting aggressively on my water bottle, I dropped my headphones and bent down twice before successfully picking them up. Oh yeah, baby! Let me tell you, in those three seconds, hook line and sinker! Thankfully, I don't think irrecoverable damages have been done but first impressions are like wowzaaa and mine sucked. Hopefully he'll remember the staring.
Sassarella Says...to impress a guy in 3 seconds, just smile and be confident. Take a lesson from me and utilize the opportunities you are given. In this case, I'm now going to have to make an opportunity in order to redeem myself with Gym Crush Uno y Solo. Great, now if anyone I know sees me there looking around they are going to know just who I'm looking for. Put in a good word for me and I promise to use my normally very grown-up and hot voice ;-)