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  • dearabi

Gym Class Zeroes

I hate a love hate relationship with the gym. I hate going, but I love the results. I love the atmosphere, but I hate people. I know, I’m an asshole but at least I’m an honest one. For a woman, picking a gym is sometimes more than just equipment and towel service. It’s about being able to do lunges without getting eye fucked.

The gym will always be a meat market. It’s what happens when you get a bunch of sweaty testosterone driven men, and semi-clad post-breakup driven women under the same roof. I’d be lying if I said I’ve never stalked sneaked a peak at my future ex-boyfriend in my peripherals. But it’s one thing to notice someone, maybe even smile or say hi, and a completely different thing if you’re oogling and ultimately, making someone feel so uncomfortable it fucks up their workout feng-shui.

Many years and pounds ago when I had a membership at 24-Hour Fitness, I took a weekly pilates class there with my friend Bell. One night in the studio we were setting up our mats and stretching out. Mid stretch I noticed a guy peaking through the glass wall. It was the same guy that walked me to my car – uninvited mind you, the week before (he was a friend of a friend if you’re wondering why I didn’t just call the cops on his ass). It was also the same guy that asked for my number, although I politely didn’t give it.

So dudes still outside checking out the class that NO MEN ARE IN, and just when I think the motherfucker wouldn’t, the motherfucker does. He grabs a mat and sits just slightly behind and to the side of my girl whose sitting next to me.

Aaaaand I’m annoyed as fuck. I know my girl wants to make fun of me but doesn’t because she can already sense my wrath. Not even ten minutes into the sesh, we hear a noise that makes us both tilt our head and wrinkle our nose. Like, “Was that … naaaah.” We ignore it and continue with the exercise. Until we get into this one position where we have to rock ourselves back and forth like a rocking chair, and we hear the noise again. This time though, it’s too long and too loud to ignore. And it’s quite apparent old boy just ripped one.

I can’t even look at Bell, because we know one glance and we’ll both roll over and DIE from laughing. Instead we keep to ourselves, and try our absolute hardest to refrain from opening our mouths and embarrassing the poor guy even more. Although I’m sure he saw our shoulders vigorously jerking up and down in an attempt to contain our laughter, and left before the class was even over. It was pretty much a wrap after that. Neither of us could concentrate anymore. It was pretty much a wrap for dude as well. He never even so much as looked in my direction again, what more said hi or took another pilates class. *Whew* I was saved by flatulence.

So the moral of the story? The gym is NOT the club. I know it’s a little hard to tell when some females come in a full face of makeup complete with fake lashes, but it is not Bally’s Lounge or 24-Hour Tao. Some people actually go to the gym to *gasp* work out, so please refrain from hollering while on the treadmill. And if you feel it absolutely, positively necessary to – I”m talking you’ll spontaneously combust if you don’t ask this chick for her number, do yourself a favor and don’t go into her pilates class after eating a bean burrito.

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