Case in point #1:
There's this chick I've been talking with, waiting for our Thursday class to begin at 6:30. She seems friendly enough, if a little chatty. I know a lot more about her than she does about me, because I generally have a policy to not reveal personal information among that bizarre self-selected coed fraternity of gym-goers, whereas this girl has no such compunction. She told me how she was supposed to be on some reality show with her mom, how she comes to the gym as often she can, when she's feeling tired or hungry or whatever. I also saw her conspicuously flick her eyes down to check out my wedding ring, when I came back in August. Another broken heart, I thought. I hope she can accept the fact that I simply can't be with her, the way she wants to be with me. Obviously.
Well, a little while ago, we were talking before class and she said, "....tomorrow's my tough day, I've got precalc and physics." Wait a second, back it up. I said: "Oh, are you in college," knowing the answer already.
"Nope, high school -- I'm a junior." Oh, wow! Neat! I've been pretending to flirt with a high school student! They make movies about this, and let me tell you, it never works out well for the dude (See: "Lolita," "Election," etc).
Case in point #2:
On Thursday, after the awesome hip hop class, I was drinking water and trying to absorb the sweat coming off my face into a towel. This is physiologically an embarassing moment. A dude in the step class that immediately follows mine, a large and swarthy man of color who is pretty darn gay, who I am on a head-nod basis with, said hi and I waved hello. With sweat stinging in my eyeballs I noticed that he was still looking at me. I must have smiled or made some other gesture of assent, because he started ambling towards me, as I continued to focus on trying to block up my pores. He came up to me and PUT HIS HAND ON MY SHOULDER/BACK/BACK OF THE ARM - an ambiguous zone. He said, "I have to say, you looked really good in that class."
Oh, wow! Neat! I tried to say something out of gratitude ("Huh, thanks, ha ha") and quickly return to sweating, but he was still smiling ("You did, you did!") I was a bit thrown off, but also flattered, I must say. My reluctance to exercise with L comes from my conviction that I look like a total knob when I'm working out -- limbs flailing; bizarre, asymmetrical sweat stains; saliva crusting at my lips from breathing through my mouth -- so when you get some positive feedback on your gym performance, it gives you a bit of a boost.
Anyways, this is not especially newsworthy (or even interesting) but I haven't written in a while and I wanted to get something up here. In other news, things are pretty good: James swooped into town for a couple days, so I got to see him; I've got a couple of job offers to consider; and L made a great dinner tonight. Happy campers all around.
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