Part one is here. Part two is here.
It happened just the other day, somewhat awkwardly, when we bumped into each other near the water cooler at the corner of the gym. It's crowded in that small nook and there's plenty of foot traffic with people coming and going at that time of the morning. I had bent down to throw away the arm band we're required to wear for entering the workout room. I've never understood why the staff is so strict on this. "I come here nearly everyday, I pay my fees, and I ask for my towel that you give to me, and I come in and run on the treadmill, and sit on the machines and lift weights. Nearly everyday. Remind me again why I need a stupid band around my arm! Just to prove I paid?" I feel like telling them. But I never have the energy to fight so early in the day.
When I stood up again and swung around for a drink of water she was standing close enough for me to tap her arm. "Sorry," was my automated response before I knew who I was talking to. "My fault," she said in perfect English with a slight British accent. "I thought you were done." By now, just seven words had come from her well rounded lips, but I was sweating something mad. My hands were like wet putty. I managed to wipe the right one on my small towel. "I am," I muttered. "No worries." That was more Australian than British, but I was sure she had at least been educated in the U.K. And now it was even more awkward. I desperately wanted to keep the conversation going, to talk about something...anything! What could I say?
Then my eyes landed on a small sign that hangs about the water cooler and just to the right of her gorgeous curly hair. I have always found the sign amusing, especially for a gym. It reads: no smoking (with the international sign for no smoking - a cigarette with a line through it) and no eating (with a big cheeseburger under it - also crossed out). So, I say it: "Some sign, huh?" I point to it in case she thinks I'm crazy. "Oh, you find that ironic too, do you?" And then she smiled. And my heart skipped two beats, maybe three. And the sweat came pouring from my palms. And my mind raced. And raced some more. And then she tossed her plastic cup in the trash and darted off to the treadmill. And I just stood there with my cup, staring off into space like a freshly uncovered frozen Mummy.
Idiot. That's what I called myself as I got my act together and made my way to the free weights. Here was my big chance, and I blew it. I had even fired off a decent first line with my comment about the sign. She responded! Was she maybe even being a little flirtatious with that quick smile? The longer I stood doing my arm curls, the more convinced I was that she was indeed flirting with me. But then sense brook through dream and I literally shook my head. No, you idiot. She was just making conversation, responding to you like anyone would. That was your one big chance and that's all you could say. Idiot.
I took a peek around the corner to see if she was still running. No. Gone. That was quick. Or maybe it was longer than I thought since I'd spent well over 15 minutes in dreamland. I scoured the gym. No sign of her.
I started a pros-cons list in my head on my way out of the gym. The pros:
1. I not only talked to her, I initiated the conversation.
2. She responded positively to my comment.
3. She smiled.
4. It's kind of like she left the door open to another conversation later since she ended her comments with a question, "Oh, you find that ironic too, do you?"
5. We touched. For not longer than a second I felt her smooth arm, and that's something.
The cons:
1. The conversation was too short.
2. The touch was too brief.
3. When will I ever get that close to her again? It was a freak, unplanned, once-in-a-lifetime encounter.
4. So she responded, so she smiled, so she asked a stupid question? It's not like she kept the conversation going, kissed me, and took me out for dinner. You idiot. I kept calling myself that in a conversation with myself.
5. It wasn't enough. I should have said something else, pursued harder. Something...anything!!
Dead even. Five pros. Five cons. A wash. I took my shower, and put on my work clothes thinking I hadn't really made any progress at all. Typical John Short. What is my problem, darn it?! "A guy like me." I just can't shake myself.
To be continued.
