Context: I know I only blog about my romantic escapades via dating apps, but this does not mean I don’t get out and meet boys in public! Much to the contrary, I LOVE talking to strange men at bars. This weekend one even stuck his tongue in my ear AT EL CENTRO, and I still can’t decide whether I’ll be clean after four showers or five. So, this is a post about a real-life dreamy man that I’m pursuing (who I’ve never ever talked to) (#soulmates).
You know how sometimes you see someone and you just know that you were meant to fall in love and explore the world together and make beautiful babies and stay side by side for all of eternity?
Then you’ll completely understand my adoration for this beautiful
boy man ADONIS who works out at my gym every morning. His chiseled face, bulging biceps, …..chiseled face? Ok, I know NOTHING about him other than the fact that he’s beautiful. But that’s really all that matters, right? Right?!
I have one eensy weensy little problem, though.
I’m HOPELESSLY AFRAID to talk to him.
What if I smell bad? What if he’s married? What if he has one of those terrible steroid lisps? What if he hates me? So much could go wrong.
…but, I’ll never know until I try, right? Therefore, I’ve developed the following list of ways to make gym bae love me.
- Drop a barbell on his foot. Offer to drive him to the hospital.
- Make cookies. After he finishes a set, exclaim “good boy!” and hand him a cookie.
- While he’s stretching post-workout, approach him from the side. Deadlift him.
- Follow him around with gym wipes. Before he uses any machine, insist on wiping it down for him, on the premise that he ‘should only be dirty in the bedroom.’
- Stand in front of him while he does tricep dips. When he lowers into a dip, kiss him.
- Sneak into the gym control room and adjust the temperature to 90 degrees. When he inevitably remarks how hot it is, tell him ‘yeah, maybe you should leave.’ Wink.
- Buy groupon for pole dancing classes. Take classes. Begin pole dancing on gym equipment. When I catch him looking, exclaim “want to join?”
- Write this blog post. Write blog address on the back of one of my business cards. Slip him the business card, whisper ‘I’ve been writing about you,’ and wink.
One night at happy hour, my drunk self was THIRSTY AS HELL and I was all like ‘TOMORROW IS THE DAY I TALK TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, DAMN IT!!!!’ I had my move planned (“accidentally” reach for a piece of equipment at the same time he did, brush his hand, let sparks fly, say sorry and blame it on Tequila Thursday, then spark up interesting and romantic conversation). I even sent myself a series of pep talk text messages to power me through:
a) yes I was wastey-face before 8:30 PM, I had 3 glasses of sangria (1 free!) and 2 tequila shots (free!) at happy hour courtesy of our new fave bartender; b) yes my name in my phone is ‘Bootylicious’ because alcohol and because my Siri is an Australian man and when he calls me that I get happy.
SO ANYWAY, the next morning I got to the gym and he was there and so beautiful as always and I TOTALLY chickened out. I didn’t lunge at any equipment, I just kinda smiled and tried to look friendly and inviting while I lifted delts. Also I dropped into the splits 4 times (ex-cheerleader life) but made it look natural I think. I don’t think he noticed. FUCK ME.
I’m literally pathetic, see: this conversation I had at Starbucks immediately after:
I’ll probably die alone.