The Most Popular Guy At The Gym

Someone photoshopped his head onto my body!

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After walking 45 minutes to the gym yesterday I felt pretty good. It was Friday, which is generally a busy day at Equinox, especially in the morning.

A bit tired from my walk, I decided to just plop down onto a mat in one of the stretching areas.

As I sat there, no joke about 6 people walked by and said hi to me.

First there was Stephanie, a black haired bombshell who is one of the trainers. She does bodybuilding competitions sometimes in the “figure” category. Or maybe it’s bikini? One of the ones where they don’t have a lot of muscle.

My point is that she’s hot.

Then there was Patrice, a Jewish woman in her late 40s with a great pair of fake boobs.

I got her number a few months back and basically told her I wanted to have sex with her. Things never progressed further than that, but we’ve become pretty good friends in the gym.

So she stopped by and we started chatting.

“You still seeing that same guy?” I asked.

“Ugh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s already on its way out.”

I laughed. “Really, already? It’s only been a few weeks. I thought you were having fun.”

She put her hand on her hip defiantly. “I AM having fun, it’s just… we have literally nothing in common.”

That really got her going. You know how women are. They love to talk about relationships.

I interrupted her verbal newsletter to ask, “Do you only date Jewish guys?”

“Oh no,” she said. It was like I asked if she was a vegetarian.

“That’s the problem with this guy,” she went on. “He’s very small town. From the Midwest. And you know me…”

I nodded, “Yeah.”

“This guy tonight is Jewish though. It’s our third date.” She got a sneaky little smile on her face.

“Oooh, third date huh,” I said with a grin. “Sounds fun.”

After that Shala, this Persian lady, also in her mid-40s with a great pair of fake boobs came to chat.

Without any prompting, she goes, “I was going to do cardio for 40 minutes but I only did 25. So I told myself that I’m going to lift really heavy weights instead.”

She gave a little laugh like she wanted me to share in the joke.

“Ha ha, there you go.” I said, relieving her of any remaining guilt. Then, “How’s your son?”

“Ohh,” she said, looking a bit sad. “You know, one day is good, one day bad. He had his first date yesterday.”

“Wowwwww,” I remarked, trying my best to sound impressed. “How old is he?”

“Twenty one.”

“Wowwww,” I said again. “Good for him.”

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “But she took advantage of his… visual impairment and paid the bill. I didn’t like that.”

At a loss for words, I go, “Oh, well, uh, you know.. It’s not that big of a deal. Hey, it was his first date, right? There’s always room for improvement.”

She seemed to like that. “Yes,” she said, nodding, “always room for improvement.”

Her son was in a car accident when he was 16 and was pretty messed up. Like, to the point where he can’t live on his own. Has memory problems, vision problems. Something is wrong with his brain. I’ve never met him, but she told me about it one day. She put him on a few cycles of Cerebrolysin at my recommendation (after checking with her doctor, of course).

After a few more minutes of small talk she excused herself to go work out.

A few more trainers came to say hello after that. I felt like I was on the show Cheers or something.

I’m not sure if it was because of the walking or what, but I was in a great mood yesterday. Maybe the increased blood flow makes the Wellbutrin kick in harder.

At yoga it was more of the same.

Friday is one of Maeve’s classes. That means it gets pretty crowded in there and yesterday was no exception.

Still, I managed to grab my usual spot right smack in the middle.

As I got comfortable, I noticed a shapely female body walk right in front of my line of vision. Cheetah print yoga pants, an exposed midriff and what could only be described as a flowing mane of black hair crossed my line of vision.

Damn, I thought to myself, who is that?

As I made my way to downward facing dog, I realized that she looked familiar. It took me a few seconds to process it, but I glanced to my left only to see her walking back from the cupboard where the yoga mats are kept.

Turns out I was right. I did know her.

I kept looking from downward facing dog and we made eye contact.

“Hi,” she whispered quietly.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

I met Samira sometime during the past year. She trains with Emily (one of the trainers), or at least she did when we met. I don’t remember how exactly we met, but she’s a pretty cool girl.

She’s Persian and about my age. I want to say 31 or something. Her story, as far as I remember, is that she owns a couple of nail salons which pretty much generate passive income for her.

She’s also very much into spirituality, despite the fact that I only see her at yoga about once a month, if that.

I remember after getting into Eckhart Tolle’s book, “The Power of Now,” I texted her about it only to have her text back that she’d already read it.

I don’t remember when I got her number, but if I know myself it was probably after some flirtatious conversation and a vague hint at some non-gym activity we could do together.

Oh I remember, it was back when I was vlogging. Maybe six months ago or something like that?

Yes, I vlogged. Only for about 30 days, after which point I gave up.

I’ll do anything to avoid a real job.

ANYWAY, an hour and fifteen minutes later, I go to put my yoga mat and blocks back in the cupboard in side of the room. It’s not actually a cupboard, more like one of those big wooden things with lots of cubbyholes. Whatever.

The point is that after I put my stuff back, she walked over with another Persian girl to put her stuff away as well.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked with a slight smile.

“Hey! Do you know my friend Danielle?” She turned to her friend who was wearing a big toothy smile.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” I said, offering my left hand. She took it softly.

I didn’t know her personally, but I had seen her a few times before in class. She always left early.

I would say she’s probably in her late 30s, dark brown hair, very pretty. No fake boobs on this one.

“Oh yeah, I know you,” I said, “I’ve seen you in class before.”

“Yeah, when I manage to make it to the end,” she replied.

She punctuated the end of the sentence with a laugh aimed in Samira’s direction. It reminded me of Shala’s comment about skipping the cardio.

I turned to Samira and said, “She’s my friend now.”

They giggled.

“Oh my god,” Samira said excitedly, “your headstand is so good!”.

I’m sure I mentioned this before, but one of the reasons I like yoga so much is because of the awesome feeling you get when the class is finished.

I’m not sure if it’s from the deep breathing, the physical exertion or a combination of both, but as far as I know it’s something unique to yoga.

This awesome feeling, however, can sometimes be a little intense after class. Like, to the point where I’m unable to find words for normal, small-talkish conversations.

And I say dumb things even without that excuse.

I don’t know if I didn’t know how to take the compliment or what, but I said, “Oh, the straddle? Uh yeah, I’ve been practicing. Thanks.”

After a few milliseconds of awkward pause, she held up her hand for a high five. I obliged.

“She’s cute huh,” I said to Danielle, nodding in Samira’s direction.

I don’t know how, but somehow I managed to pull that off with minimal verbal bumbling.

Reminds me of the time I took acid before going to work at a football game. You have no idea how you’re walking and talking, but somehow the right words just come out of your mouth.

Anyway, I finished putting my stuff away and went to go put my shoes and socks back on.

Outside the yoga studio, they have more of those little cubbyhole things where you can put your footwear before going inside. These ones are only about knee-height, and there is a small cushioned seating area for people to do their thing.

So I grab my shit, sit down and start getting myself together. I half-waited for the two Persian girls to come out and sit next to me, but to no avail.

Maeve however, came out of the class and sat next to me. Ever the popular yoga teacher, she was followed by a trail of her disciples talking to her about something or other.

Once the chatter died down, I asked, “You doing anything special for the holidays, Maeve?”

“Oh, you know,” she began. “Christmas Day we’re going to my boyfriend’s house…”

I tried to suppress my intense feelings of heartbreak and betrayal as I let her continue.

“…but Christmas Eve…” she shrugged, her shoulder muscles bulging. “I’m not doing anything.”

Now that I think about it, that may have been an opening for me to invite her to some awesome party that I knew about. I don’t think she knows that my social life revolves around the gym.

“You’re not going to dress up as Santa?” I asked.

She chuckled, “No, not this year.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well, you know,” she said, a playful smile spreading across her face. “It’s a hassle. I gotta buy the outfit…”

My footwear in its proper place, I stood up. “Oh come on, it can’t be that much. There’s a lot of bums out there with Santa suits.”

She chuckled as I turned away. Someone else had already grabbed her attention, so I thanked her for the class and left.

As I was walking away, I remember thinking to myself, “Damn, this is going to be tough to give up.”

And it’s true. While I wouldn’t call them “friends” in the sense that we hang out in person or do social things together, I definitely have a lot of gym friends there.

If the years selling hair straighteners at mall kiosks have taught me anything, they’ve taught me how to be extremely friendly to people and make a good first impression.

Also, I’m generally just lonely and the gym is where I get my fix for being social.

Anywayyyy, I left the gym feeling like a million bucks. I didn’t even care that I had to walk 45 minutes to get home. I actually kind of liked it.

Hell, who am I kidding? I fucking loved that shit. My legs felt amazing.

Still, I was pretty beat when I got home.

Somehow I managed to crank out 6000 words about how I got into sales. It wasn’t so hard once I got started, despite the fact that I didn’t end up eating anything until a few hours later.

Since we’re being honest and nobody will probably ever read this, I’ll also admit that I spent the rest of the day smoking weed and playing Dota.

Sometimes I like to pretend that I’m looking for a job or being productive, but nah.

That said, when I left the gym I felt compelled to text Samira. My Spidey Sense was tingling after our brief conversation.

After I’d been writing for an hour or so, I sent her a text:

“Hey thanks for the compliment earlier. You looked good today in class. You should come more often!”

I wanted to keep it vague by saying she looked good today in class. My goal was that she’d think, “Does he meant I looked good, or that my yoga was looking good?”

A half hour later she wrote back: Hey <smiley emoji> thank you. I will try to come more.

Me: You should go buy some more animal print lulu pants so you have motivation ;)

Her: Hahaha! I wish they had more. I would buy them all. It’s not the motivation. If it started at 8 or 9 it would be easier for me. It starts a little late. By the time I shower and I’m done it’s lunch time!

Me: So what? You’re a big baller anyway. That class is perfect for you.

Her: Baller is so relative.

Me: Baller as in, you don’t have to chain yourself to a desk during daylight hours.

Her: Ah yes! This is true.

Me: Late morning yoga classes are the next step in your baller evolution.

Her: Haha <smiley emoji>

Me: Then all you need is a chinchilla coat and you’re set.

We sent a few more messages back and forth. She asked me what plans I had for the holidays.

Me: I need to come up with a good fake answer for when people ask me that.

Her: Why fake? Keep it real. I’ll be here working out and chilling in my bed.

Now, I tend to think that I am someone who doesn’t fuck around. I say things like they are most of the time. The majority of people I talk to are not that way. They are not blunt.

I get the impression that Samira is. Strange, because most girls, let alone PERSIAN girls are definitely not like that.

A bit more chatting about holiday stuff, and then…

Her: Do you read? I have a good book rec for you. Iron John.

Me: I’ve heard of that.

<She sends me a link to the book on Amazon.>

Me: Probably an affiliate link, you big baller you.

Her: Lol. No. That’s hilarious.

Me: Yeah someone recommended it on a podcast, I think. I’ll def check it out. Wait so are you saying I’m not manly enough?

Her: No not at all.

Me: Because I do yoga or something?

Her: I think you’re very manly.

When I saw that, I took a moment to celebrate.

Her: I think you’re not connected to 100% of yourself as a human.

Shit. She got me.

Me: Hmm…

Her: Like you aren’t using 100% of your gifts.

Me: Well…you might be right about that. I’m like a cheetah. I need to go kill zebras. But there’s no zebras around. And I don’t want to move to Africa. Maybe I’ll just read the book LOL.

Her: Yeah because maybe it will help you connect to yourself and identify what would be equivalent to a zebra in LA.

This was pretty impressive.

Not to sound like a broken record, but I don’t talk to many people who have their heads screwed on properly. Let alone Persian females.

Me: Damn you’re so centered. I wish I was like that.

Her: I can coach you (as a friend)

The “as a friend” part referred to me not having to pay her in dollars. I think.

Me: I’m down. I’ll figure out some way to repay you.

Her: It will be good for me. Because it will improve my ability to communicate with men. I always coach women. I’ve always been a mentor to other girls.

Me: Damn. The ballerness just doesn’t stop.

Her: Okay, so get the book. I just started it too.

Me: I will. This is exciting. Finally some accountability.

Her: Yes!

Now, I had no intention of actually reading this book. However, when I play Dota I listen to audio books instead of music. As long as there was a pirated version of this audio book available, we were in business.

Worst case scenario I’d just read the Wikipedia article.

I’m half joking here (especially if Samira reads this someday), as having a coach always appealed to me. I just didn’t think it would be a hot Persian girl around my age.

Fortunately, I found a copy on TPB and promptly downloaded it. Took a puff of a joint I had lying around, fired up Steam and started listening.

I don’t want to get into the book right now because I need to eat, but suffice to say that it was pretty interesting.

The only problem is that it’s that hard to let down your golden hair when doing so exposes what you REALLY think about everyone you know.

But we’ll talk about that tomorrow.