Growing up on girlie magazines targeted at females from the age of 13-25 (hello CLEO), I’d always had the impression that things happen at the gyms. Sure, there’s the running, the stretching, the lifting and as I learned later in life, the gay sex in the shower stalls. But look past all that and you may find that some people actually meet other people in gyms! I’m talking about man and woman meet, man and woman go out on a date, go out on several dates, get into a relationship, get married, get a kid or three, get divorced then get on with their lives. You know, really romantic stuff like that.
At first I was skeptical because… let’s face it, love and relationship stuff printed in girlie mags are often BS. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. A little real-life example: there must have been loads of articles suggesting that bookstores are great places to meet guys/girls because that’s where you find the smart, intellectual sort, bla bla bla. Guess what? Mei and I tried that once, IT DIDN’T WORK! Okay fine, we were really just sitting on the floor of MPH Bangsar (when it was still around) reading books for free because we were cheap like that. The point is, we spent hours in the darn bookstore looking very smart and intelligent, with carefully selected titles to boot! Nope, didn’t work.
See, I tested out the theory so you didn’t have to. You’re welcome.
But gyms… I don’t know. Maybe I’m still stuck in my fantasy world, but I’m rather convinced that the silly grins from the endorphins after a good, grueling work-out must be good for something! Like
ending up having hot sweaty sex with a guy with a six pack and other bulging… uh, muscles meeting the love of your life. So exciting, isn’t it?
… Not for me.
On Saturday I was at my sister’s, waiting to take Ryan to the movies. I had time on my hands and thought I’d use her condo gym’s treadmill for 20mins or so. Halfway through my running, a gorgeous man entered the gym and began to s-t-r-e-t-c-h. On a mat. At an empty space. Right next to the treadmill I was on…
I could almost see the wedding ring, peace doves, fireworks in Castle Happily-Ever-After…
… until I accidentally tugged on my earphones which was connected to my Nokia X6 (which serves as my music player). This sudden flurry of movement caused my Nokia X6 to go tumbling over the treadmill’s conveyor belt, disintegrate on the floor at the feet of said gorgeous man. Owner of disintegrated Nokia X6 screamed, “FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, hit the treadmill’s emergency halt button and went scrambling after poor disintegrated Nokia X6. Said owner then realised with major embarrassment that gorgeous man was looking at her with a slight shock on his face, so she muttered her apologies and went back to her treadmill.
Back to being the first person… I continued my running and he began to use the treadmill next to mine. Bla bla bla stealing very quick glances at his beautiful reflection on the mirror in front of us bla bla bla visions of ring and doves returning bla bla bla… I slowed down my pace to have a drink, throat feeling like Sahara and all that.
Okay look: the point of this story is that I wouldn’t be me, Suanie if the damn bottle of water didn’t slip off my grip and fell like how the Nokia X6 did, okay? Yes, klutz, me, thanks. At that point in time, I just wished the conveyor belt would open up and swallow me whole because it would be absolute proof that the treadmill I was on was in fact an evil spirit waiting to claim its poor victim, me.
Instead I hit the stop button and legged it back to my sister’s. Guess which clumsy dolt didn’t and will never meet The One at the gym for lack of body coordination to make every movement sporty and graceful? Yeap.