Adventures at the Gym, Part III

Remember I mentioned the last time I thought a man was hitting on me at the gym?

Here’s the story. I was quietly, peacefully walking on the treadmill a couple of years ago, minding my own business, when a man jogged past on the track that circles the cardio machines. He caught my eye as he passed, and smiled.

I was startled! Believe me, I’m not used to thinking of myself as someone a gym rat would hit on. And this man, though he was close to my age, was most definitely in fine shape. Still, I figured he was probably smiling at the woman next to me, so I ignored him.

But he did it again, the next time he passed, and the next. The woman on the treadmill next to me left, and still he smiled at me. I finally had to admit he was smiling at me!

And why not?! I said to myself. I may be middle-aged and overweight, but I obviously haven’t completely lost it! And heck, here I was at the gym, which surely offset the overweight a little, right? I smiled back at him.

He stopped! Oh, yes, he did! He stopped jogging around the track, came over to my machine and began to talk to me!

I nearly died three times. Up close, he was very attractive too. Light hair (blond, just starting to gray) and a sweet smile. Blue eyes that sparkled, and looked directly at me. With interest!

I glanced at my shirt, hoping it wasn’t stained or torn (hoping he didn’t notice me glance). Nope, it was good. So I smiled back and had a brief conversation (“I’m good. How ’bout yourself?”), all the time wondering how I could let him down easily when he asked for my number. I’d look regretful, I thought, and say, “Oh, I’m sorry! But I’m married.” And maybe, if I was really courageous, I’d add, “But thanks. I’m really honored, and believe me, if I wasn’t married, my number would be yours!”

He didn’t ask though. Just said, “Well, have a good workout” and went back to jogging. I was a little disappointed, but relieved too. And I knew he was a regular — I’d seen him before. So I knew he knew *I* was a regular too, and he could always ask me another day.

In the locker room, I took special care with my clothes and even put on makeup. I came out with a little jaunt in my step and looked for him, but I didn’t see him.

Until the following Sunday, that is. I was sitting at the organ at the church we’d recently begun attending when I looked out, and there he was: sitting in the pew with his wife and daughter.

He hadn’t been hitting on me at all! Just politely chatting with a new member of his church congregation. Sigh.

Sometimes, though? Late at night? I pretend he really was flirting.

Tags: Flirting, Working Out