The Gym Part Deux
First off, I went to the stair-stepper where I start my work-out. Some guy had just hopped off it (he used the one at the end which the same one I like. I don't like being boxed in). When I stepped on, the handle things were slippery with his sweat. The whole dashboard was covered with sweat. It literally looked like all fluids from within him splased out all over the machine. I stepped off and used the one beside it. Why don't people ever wipe down the machines they use?
Five minutes into my workout, a familiar chick stepped on the sweat drenched machine. I think her name was Nancy. She noticed all the wet stuff and said to me that someone spilled their water onto the machine. She then started using her own face towel to wipe everything down. Why on earth would you use your towel to clean off a machine. She then started her workout, all the while speaking to me. I usually don't like being spoken to while I'm working out--to me it's like being at the urinal: speaking causes some sort of performance stage fright. But it was Nancy and she is a female and so permitted to speak. But did I really have a choice?
No sooner had she started her workout then a bunch of college aged students come into work out. There was a group of about five and then a loner sort of guy. The group peons did everything to annoy one another, short of pancing one another. The loner guy worked out and then started practicing his karate/judo cadas in one of the mirrors. The five peons started mocking him. Nancy started wiping her face with the sweat of the messy workout strager while watching the cada-dancing loner guy.
She said, "He is going to be really good looking when he grows into his own".
I had to agree. Cada loner guy had that awkward stage look about him. Judging by the size of his bookbag, he probably was a brain too. This added to his awkward nerd image. But he certainly was pretty good looking.
Now covered in some stanger's sweat, Nancy said something like, "If I was in college I would be all over him". This statement got my attention.
I looked at 45 year old, botox pumped Nancy. She had perfectly manicured nails, her hair and boobs did not move as she bounced up and down on the stair-stepper. Heck, her pores were so deadened by the botox injections that she didn't even break a sweat, nor could she make a work-out face. All I could think was "Dear Lord Nancy, please don't be the first women this poor soul touches. Let him know the nice feeling of the natural fat under neath normal mammary glands. Let him kiss lips that don't have collagen pumped into them. Let the nails that first dig into his back be the keratinized sheddings of a human body and not porcelain covered crap from a salon". Just let it be a normal girl.
I don't think Nancy has ever been with a nerd. She was most cetainly a head cheerleader in high school. I'm sure she was either president or vice-president of her sorority in college. And she married exremely well judging by the rock on her finger and the stones which surrounded her wrist, were embedded in her ears, and also dangled from her neck. Plus she didn't smell like spray on perfume, but the dabbed on kind.
I was talking to my friend Sarah sometime later that day. I asked her about nerds and their turn-on ability. She said it was their sense of innocence that was intriguing, the awkwardness they had that could be sexy on the right man. I don't get it. I always thought chicks were turned on by the five peons who spent more time laughing and high fiving each other in the gym, then the booksmart guy. Maybe there is hope for someone like me.
Happy Holidays Folks!!