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So tonight I went to the gym with my workout partner, Jeremy. There this girl at the gym that I fancy. She’s engaged, best I can figure. You know, big ass ring, big as sparkley in the middle. Anyways, engaged or not, she’s very flirty with me, and I’m very easy to make interested. Red hair, exotic name, that demure smile that seems to be a thin facade to hide the liberated femme fatale.

So anyways, there’s this girl. I’m sitting on, some machine that works out your back muscles. You sit there, and pull down a bar from overhead, to chest level, it’s attached to cables and what not. So I’m there, yanking on a meager 90 lbs. On my third rep, I notice this girl, on the other side of the machine, looking at me through the cables. She’s got this… quizzical doe in the headlights look on her face, and a cute little smirk. I was in the middle of telling my buddy about my fantastic Sunday at the movies.

Let me take a moment here to give you a little background. If you don’t know me well, I am among the worst when it comes to dealing with “the ladies”. I can recite my mantra in my head, “I am a sexy bitch, I am a sexy bitch, I am a sexy bitch.” And I can feel like a sexy bitch, but I am easily made nervous, and then I just totally flub it. Today, no exception to the rule.

And now back to our story, already in progress. So I think, what can I say, that’s clever, cute, and confident while she’s staring at me? Something… suggestive… something… masculine, yet sensitive. Something like “did ya come over to watch my eyes pop out of my head on my last rep?” Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be something like that. I could see my imaginary cue card holder trying to flag my attention back on the cards. Where the hell did that come from? He seemed to say, read the cards, that’s not what was on the cards. Ok, that’s ok, we can recover from this, we can roll with it. She, as cute as can be, says “No, I wanted to see how much you’re pumping.” I glance over to reaffirm I’m only pumping 90 lbs, but that’s ok, I can say something cute and clever to insinuate that I think she’s fit, and attractive. I’ll compliment her physique. I’ll say something like “I’m only pumping 90 lbs, I bet you weigh more than that.” My internal cue card holder hung his head in shame, and I heard something under is breath, it was Italian, but I’m sure it didn’t mean nice things.

The girl, being much more adept at this boy girl shit than me, looks at my workout partner and asks him “was that supposed to be some sort of compliment?” To which he responds “I think he thought so.” I hang my head in shame. She comments that she wanted to see if I was strong enough to pick her up. To pick her up. I know she’s otherwise occupied, but that just… took me down the other path. She then tells me she weighs 60 lbs more than I’m doing, so maybe I can’t pick her up. My internal cue card man dropped his cards and started banging his head against a cement column. I began looking for a crow bar to pry my foot loose from my face.