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The Gym Crush

January 22, 2010

Not my Trainer, but hot damn. Click pic for more work from brian_oley.

I’m totally guilty of bitching about the gym being a meat market. Who wants to be ogled when you’re sweaty and flushed and just trying to get your calorie-burn on and get outta there. That said, lately, I’ve found myself doing the ogling. As I mentioned in my post about switching man-types, I just dig that big-shouldered muscle man thing, and the gym is an EXCELLENT place to scope boys like that.

Right now, while I have no real prospects or crushes and I’m coping with a fairly tragic rejection, I’m using my personal trainer, Trainer*, as a surrogate crush and he’s filling the role quite nicely. The motivation factor is incredibly effective. Suddenly its not really a bother to get to the gym every day. I actually look forward to going to the gym. Nothing wrong with a little eye-candy, am I right?

So that’s all well and good, except… are there rules against this kind of thing? Trainer communicates by text messages, which necessitates that I have his number, which leaves me in a very precarious position as far as drunk texting goes. I am terrified I will wake up one morning, to find that in a haze of alcohol, lack of options and absence of inhibitions I sent an errant confession of love his way at 3am…

My palms are getting sweaty just thinking about what that awkward-apology-slash-workout-session would look like. Apologizing while grunting and sweating doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for saving face.

The fact that this has become even a remote (read: very likely) possibility in my life worries me. My singledom is turning me into a creeper. There is only one solution when I sense myself morphing into an awkward stalking machine similar to the likes of Mel From Flight of the Conchords: try out some new venues. Time to revamp my places-to-meet-guys horizons yet again.

*Name changed to noun to protect anonymity. Mine, mostly.
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