Gym Bunny cum Urban Socialite

2003-03-25 - 2:06 a.m.

So, I now have a five page transcript of the awful, awful employee review meeting to go over and then find some way to constructively say that I don't feel that, as a grown man, I should be reduced to tears during a private meeting and that I feel they messed up. I've read the first page, which all takes place mostly before the degradation (<-possible over-dramatic use of language here), and I think I'm going to take a little break.

Because (prepare to gasp, folks) I wanted to talk about how I was all social and stuff at the gym this morning. (This is where you can gasp, on account of my being social is out of character and is surely a startling revelation to all. So go on, do it. Gasp. I'm waiting.)

I was on the cross-trainer, just doing my usual thing of cruising the cute guys while trying to not look like I'm cruising them. I also try to calculate the percentage of 30 minutes that I finished, to help take my mind off of the fact that I am spending all that time doing a strenuous amount of nothing.

Anyway, one of the cuter fellas, a swarthy (I use that word too often) mid-30s, goateed guy, probably a few inches shorter than me but with the most amazing upper body ever, came over and started talking to the woman - a dykish-looking chick, tall, with blonde, short (in that "I intentionally cut it with a weed whacker" sort of way) hair - who was on the machine next to me. I'd seen both of them before, and they were familiar faces, so of course I eavesdropped.

They started talking about tattoos, and I was all (completely in my head, of course) "Oh! I have a tattoo! Pookie has a really -big- tattoo!" Then they started talking about where the woman should get her tattoo (as in on her body) and started to discuss how much it hurts to get one on the bone. And I was all (still in my head) "Oh! I got my tattoo on a bone! It really hurt!"

Then, the kicker - one of them (forget who) said they could never get one on their spine. "Oh!" I thought...and then...it happened: I talked to strangers.

"I got mine on my lower back." I said, completely revealing that I am a loser with no friends who has to listen to complete strangers to feel like he is a part of something larger than himself. Or something.

"Did it hurt?" The woman asked while I tried to avoid eye-contact with everyone in the gym at the same time.

"Yes." I answered macho-ly. "A lot."

I then realized that I was going at about 30 RPM more than I usually do and started to focus on slowing my pedalling/circular-motion/whatever while they finished up their conversation and the guy went elsewhere.

"What did you get for a tattoo?" The woman asked.

And suddenly we're having a conversation.

God, if I'm not careful, I'll eventually be one of those people who talks with everyone at the gym and asks how their vacation was and whether or not they watched the Oscars last night.

So, as a consequence, I am utterly terrified about trying to navigate these new social waters when I go to the gym after work today: if I see her, do I nod? Do we talk? Will I inadvertantly slight her or, perhaps worse, make her think that I'm a needy anti-social agorophobe who has no idea what he should be doing in situations like these?

Her name is "Neil" though, so at least I'll remember her name.

If you enjoyed this, you'll love it when I start class next month.

Cheers,

The Magus

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