Saturday, September 25, 2004

Perfect Timing

I went to the fitness club today, feeling very manly as I sauntered to the weight machines and began blasting my shoulders and lats. The opposite sex had arrived ahead of me in full force and, per SOP, they ignored me completely. That changed an hour later. A trio of Asian hotties, smiling and giggling to themselves, walked by and glanced at me and the amount of weight I was working. Of course by then I was struggling to press fifty pounds over my head, red-faced with arms trembling like I'd been hit with nerve gas. It's possible they weren't actually laughing and talking about me, but I tend to assume that nearby laughter and muffled conversations are always at my expense. That would explain the random killing sprees.

People say the gym is a great place to meet women, but I have to disagree. I don't think the ones who are seriously trying to get some exercise are in the mood to be approached - sweaty, no makeup, baggy clothes, hair tied back. I'm sure they're just hoping some guy will approach them while they're working some kind of leg machine, mid-grunt with their legs spayed outward or butt in the air. "Hey, baby. If I told you that you have a beautiful body, would you tell me if heaven is missing an angel? Blast! Wait, I'll be back." Of course, that still leaves the women who work out with perfect makeup and coifed hair, jewelry with matching lycra workout ensemble and digital player, the kind who exercise on the machines near the center of the floor but at such a low intensity that they don't even perspire. I get the feeling that women like that might be a little superficial and high maintenance, but I could be wrong.

Stud, out

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