Context: This post is the second in my continuing saga of being hopelessly afraid to talk to this superhotsexgod Matt-Damon-lookalike at my gym (henceforth referred to as ‘Gym Bae’). Yes, this post was first written on… January 6th… which is more than two months ago. Yes, I still have not talked to him. I’M PATHETIC! I KNOW! LEAVE ME ALONE! WHERE’S MY MOMMY?!
Ok guys. Here’s the sitch. I’m still very much enamored by Gym Bae, my knight in shining Nikes. And yet, despite my typically extroverted personality, I still can’t talk to him. I’ve come up for a few possible reasons for this uncharacteristic terror:
- I’m extremely self-conscious about the vinegar-strokes-esque face I make while doing bench presses and I know he must think I’m some sort of sexually charged monster.
- My friend A thinks he’s gay and I fear that talking to him will confirm this tragedy.
- Headphones. Mine and his. Nothing like SCREAMING AT SOMEONE AT 6:30 AM so they can hear you over the sounds of their Janet Jackson workout playlist.*
- Every time I see him, Berlin’s acclaimed Top Gun theme ‘Take My Breath Away’ starts playing in my brain and I lose myself entirely in his eyes.
*This may just be me.
Today, Friday, March 11, 2016, I decided to take charge. I was crushing my chest & back workout (it turns out when you don’t drink at night, and you eat healthy foods, your workouts get… easier? Weird, I know) and he and his friend were taking longer than usual, so as I stretched I figured that I could change and hang out in the lobby while I waited for them to wrap up. This would take two things out of the equation:
- My ugly-sweaty-ass gym self. Makeup + work clothes are a beautiful, beautiful thing.
- HEADPHONES. Janet Jackson** can’t cockblock (?) me this time around.
**What’s that? Still just me?
This. Plan. Completely. Backfired. Thus, I would like to share with you “J’s 30 Step Guide to Completely Embarrassing Yourself In Front of the Love of Your Life***.”
***I’ve been told that brief, catchy titles are best for search engine optimization. I’ve also been told that it’s important to alternate alcoholic drinks with water. I don’t like when people tell me things.
1. Transform from a sweaty gym monster into a beautiful corporate butterfly.
2. Check self out in mirror. Applaud my outfit choice.
3. Walk to front desk. Begin to question my choice of wedges as I teeter slightly. Observe my ass in side mirror. Nah, wedges were a GREAT choice.
4. Brainstorm ways to strike up conversation with elderly front desk attendant.
5. Tequila? Nah, she’s too old. Gym bae? Nope nope, that will be too awkward when he walks by. The flowers on her desk? YES J YES!
6. Start being lectured on the merits of annuals versus perennials, and the reason that hydrangeas are the best flower, and the different pests in her garden, and…
7. Zone out and start picturing my future life with gym bae.
8. …and we have a pet Shiba Inu named Taco, and we drink wine on the floor in front of the TV every night, and…
9. Flowers, flowers, OMG IS THAT GYM BAE?!?!
10. He’s gotten shorter since I last saw him 15 minutes ago.
11. And aged considerably.
12. And changed genders.
13. Damn it, FINE, that’s Mrs. McGillicuddy. Why you gotta get my hopes up like that Rhonda? After I lent you my perfume last week?!
14. SHIT. I forgot to put on perfume. Hopefully he gets just close enough to admire how my eyes match my dress, but not close enough to smell me…
15. Front desk lady waves over my shoulder. “Bye, guys! Have a good day!”
16. Guys? Guys?! GUYS?!?!?!
17. Turn around and smile, following flower chick’s gaze.
18. Forget how legs work. Right ankle rolls under. Death is imminent. My life flashes before my eyes.
19. NO, NOT 7th GRADE! SO MANY BAD CHOICES!
20. I manage to catch myself on the front desk, but the damage has been done. Gym bae has noticed me, and NOT in the way I was going for.
21. Front desk lady is severely concerned for my well-being, and says the words “Honey” and “Dear” so many times that they lose meaning.
22. I do what I always do when embarrassed: Start laughing hysterically. It’s an effective coping mechanism.
23. Coping mechanism #2: Make excuses for myself.
“I guess wedges were a bad choice considering my terrible lack of coordination and grace!” (wrong).
“Wow, maybe I should have had less to drink last night, but the guy I was on a date with wasn’t tolerable when I was sober!” (NO).
“I just get really nervous around cute guys, I guess!” (at this point my grandmother called me from her nursing home and actually disowned me).
24. Gym bae and his friend leave.
25. I spend the next 15 minutes trapped in the world’s longest conversation about hydrangeas while my rolled ankle throbs. Did you know that the word ‘hydrangea’ means preservation, and is often used in weddings to represent the preservation of love? Probs not. You probably didn’t care either. It’s cool, NEITHER DO I.
29. Remember I’m not Jewish and thus have no license to use Yiddish words.
What’s that saying? I’ll get him in the playoffs? Is that how this works? Please say that’s how this works.
Maybe I should stick to Tinder.