Sunday, October 28, 2007

Hot Yoga Pants

I have never been a gym glamour girl. I go in the rattiest workout shirt I have, no traces of makeup, which I don't wear much of anyway, and I am not there to make friends. I invariably have my tunes on, and while I will make the occasional eye contact, I am there to get the job done. Work hard, sweat like I am in hell, and eventually retire to the steam room, where I get all girly and condition my hair.

I mention this because today, I was handed the best pickup line I have ever heard, and at the goddamn gym. I was working the treadmill, running uphill. I had, as per usual, a magazine in front of me, my iphone playing the itunes (more on that later), but I was really only paying attention to the football game on the plasma televisions. This is pretty much how I roll at the gym - tons of distractions, but I usually only pay attention to one thing. Usually, it is just the music, and while I DO NOT SING ALONG, I often am mouthing the words or otherwise into the music. Again, I do not sing out loud. EVER.

So as I am on the treadmill, listening to the itunes and watching the game, I see a man enter the cardio room. I had seen him a few dozen times and always thought that he was a mischievious looking fellow - his eyes have this twinkle in them and he always seems like he is privy to some inside joke. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, made a mental note, then upped up the treadmill for some hardcore cardio as the football game heated up. I was at that point where I could barely breathe when suddenly, I realized he was standing next to the treadmill.

I shrieked like a little girl and damn near fell off my inclined treadmill. He laughed hard and apologized for startling me, and as I peeled out my earbuds, I gasped (was in an uphill sprint) "what's up? Can I help you?"

His response just about killed me. "Sorry to bother you, but I just had to tell you that you look exactly like the woman I should have married."

I started laughing hard, utterly tickled at the line. I told him "I don't care how many women you have used that line on, keep on keeping on with that line. That one is a keeper." He laughed confidently and said he was sincere, so I asked him what her name was. He was completely flummoxed and stammered and I said "there was no other girl, was there?" He said "no, you just look like the woman I should have married."

I laughed so hard - and it needs to be reiterated how ratty I looked -- sweaty, no concern for my hair or appearance, probably red from running uphill, so this was completely flattering. It takes a significant sack to do what he did and I appreciated the risk. Even though I am not going to date until next year, I agreed to have dinner with him this week. I have to reward the bold move, even if this guy is probably ten years older than me.

As I left the gym, I thought how weird it would be if I ended up dating this guy and introducing him to my dad, who is probably less than ten years older than this guy. My dad sent me an email today that I just loved, so he was on my brain.

Fast forward a few hours and I am at the grocery store, getting the fixings for my Sunday night at the pea's. I scour the wine section, making sure B isn't there, and immediately catch the eye of this man who was clearly an Arab. Having grown up over there, I am immediately drawn to Arabs, and this one was adorable. He kind of followed me around the store, then met up with me at the butcher counter. He remarked on the wine I had put in my cart (strong recommendation) and we ended up talking. Long story short, he ended up asking me out (in his beautiful accent, which I correctly identified as Iranian), so I have a full dance card next week.

Thing is, I really don't want to date. At all. I just love the forward actions of these men and will hopefully make some new friends. If I wanted to date, it would be Writer Guy, but we have this weird familiarity between us that leads me to believe he would want to move in sooner, rather than later. I am so very far from wanting that from him or anyone, yet I really like him. Truthfully, the problem is me. I can still smell the fuel from my last trainwrecks and have no faith in my judgment.

What made me giggle tonight was this thought: What would make my Dad more uncomfortable - the man nearly his age or the Arab? Tough call, that. He would love Writer Guy, as would my brothers. That somehow manages to freak me out and sort of reassure me.

I am blaming all of this on the Lululemon yoga pants. They truly make your ass look fantastic.

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