Assault? Incident? Or nothing at all? We will never know.

I think I may have assaulted a woman at the gym, Sort of. “Assault” is a weighted word. It may not really be “assault”. There was an incident though, this much I am sure of… I think? Am I? Fuck, I don’t know the correct adjective to use here. Or even the correct verb. There are very few parts of speech I feel comfortable assigning to this thing that may or may not have happened. I have two nouns… Me, and the poor woman that may or may not even have known I was at the gym with her.  Every other piece of the puzzle depends on which perspective you view the event from. Was there an event? Ugh

I don’t honestly even know if she is aware anything happened. I wasn’t about to ask her. What would I even say? “Hey, did I come off like a terrifying shit bag right there?” My perception is that she was not pleased with my antics, but its not like she screamed or blew a rape whistle. How do I really know? I am extremely cognizant of my actions. Probably to a fault. I don’t gawk at women at the gym. I am one of those guys who knows women are not at the gym for our amusement. They are there to work out. Of course every frat boy, sideways glancing, eye fucking, slack jawed dip shit thinks that he is the ONE GUY who doesn’t sexualize every person at the gym… but I am comfortable that people would agree with my interpretations of my demeanor.

Here is how the “incident” unfolded. Remember, this is a monologue.. Anecdotal.. I don’t actually have any intentions of course correcting… this incident is funny to me. I like the antics caused by my hijinks and socially awkward idiocy.

I walked into the gym with an especially high dose of whimsy. I could tell by the lack of vehicles in the parking lot, that I was going to have a lot of room to roam on the gym floor that day. This is a special kind of rare treat. Usually the place is packed. I was not about to waste this treat and go in to this particular workout saddled by a formalized plan, or any of your Judeo-Christian ethics. I was going to strut in like I owned the place. The staff at VillaSport was lucky I had a shirt on. I was feeling cocky. The only other person I could see was my buddy Chris, and he is always up for my antics, and also looking for any excuse to pop his top. I knew that I had the support of crowd on this day.

The gym I go to is more of a health club than a gym. The workout floor is actually located upstairs, and the spa and basketball courts are accessible downstairs. I was not there for a wax or to play horse by myself, I was there to pick up heavy shit and put it back down, so up to the gym I went. As I walked upstairs, I rounded the corner to see that the weight room was completely empty. Not a single soul in sight. I instantly was hit by a powerful inspiration.. I was going to have 80’s dance party workout. I found my 80’s pop mix on my phone, and hit “shuffle” and off I bounded into the day. I walked out past the weight machines and towards the free weights while fluctuating between the opening dance sequence from “Flash Dance” and Emilio Estevez’s fist pumping overly masculine version of a skip from “Breakfast Club”… all while “Take on me” reverberated through my head.  The only problem with my gym is that it has abbreviated sections of walls to separate cardio equipment from the weight room floor. This lends to blind spots. Sure enough, when I was midway through my 4^th pas de bourree while gliding across the floor,  a beautiful woman rounded the corner. I almost exploded my knees from putting the brakes on my dance moves so quickly. I had to get back into character ASAfuckingP. I pulled my hat down over my eyes and turned my whimsical dance routine into a “go fuck yourself” style strut.  I am 5’10” in every direction, and with my hat pulled down and my brow furrowed, I can look pretty intimidating. If only people knew that behind my mean mug, “Gloria” was blasting through my headphones.  I only mention her appearance because  there is a direct relationship between the embarrassment from doing stupid shit, and the level of attractiveness of the sole audience member for the show.

I felt confident that I had recovered without being seen, and I was honestly relieved that the near miss had centered me. I was now focused and ready to work out… which lasted for about 3 songs. I was quickly becoming bored with my aggressive and effective workout, and had switched into full “bro dude” mode. I could slowly feel my mind wander. I was back to day dreaming and bobbing my head to forgettable 80’s pop classics. I was only going to do squats, curls, and bench press and then I was planning to follow that up with a smoothy from the café while I sat in the hot tub. It was not shaping up to be my most intense or productive day at the gym.

That’s when it happened… I was starting the second chorus of “Only You” by Yazoo when I realized I was screaming out the lyrics to every inch of the room. I knew this only because my voice cracked a little causing me to have that oh noooo moment where I realized “You are signing these lyrics out loud, and not in your head, dumb shit.” I was mid set on incline press, and instead of racking the weights like a right minded individual, I just surveyed the room as I kept repping out the weights all while still singing audibly. That’s when I saw that the beautiful woman was NOT looking at me at all, and appeared to be not doing so in that “Holy shit, don’t look at the crazy butthole who is singing”.

Did she see me? Did she not see me? Was it possible that she didn’t see me and I had dodged yet another bullet? There was only one way to find out… attempt to lock eyes with her and increase your volume. Serenade the fuck out of this poor woman. The thing is, I kind of know her. We had the same trainer 18 months ago and ran into each other a few times. I have a nearly eidetic memory for faces and names, and I love everyone. So I tend to believe everyone is my best friend. And usually everyone feels that way with me too. This may not have been one of those reciprocal “we are bff’s” moments. I cant count the times I have been at the store and started talking to someone only to realize they have no clue who I am. How do they not remember going to that party that my friend dragged me to in 2003? We talked for 3 ½ minutes!! How do they not remember!!!

I was hitting every note, I think… and as I hit the last chorus and was midway through, I realized this was one of those moments. She had no clue who I was or that we had ever met. No I know how the hobo feels when the strangers on the train frown at his antics. I was undeterred….

ALL I NEEDED WAS THE LOVE YOU GAVE!!! ALL I NEEDED FOR ANOTHER DAY!!!!

When she re-racked her weights and wandered off toward the stairs so she could leave, she was not noticing me more than women usually don’t notice me. Fuck that’s a sad sentence to write… ooff… but what I am saying is she felt very deliberate and very manic in her calmness. My buddy Chris had wandered over from the squat rack section of the gym, and was looking me as though he had just seen me stab someone in the brain. He was wide eyed and just shook his head back and forth slowly, with shameful disapproval.  

I guess we will never know. Did I ruin the gym, and serenades, and Yazoo for this woman? Was she left with a “fuck I hate the dudes at the gym” feeling? Was she left feeling uncomfortable and unsure exactly why? Or is this a case of me creating both sides of an interaction.. did my mind play out both sides of the exchange that didn’t exist? Only one way to know… SCREAM OUT THE LYRICS FROM ANOTHER HAM HANDED 80’S BALLAD TO THIS POOR WOMAN AGAIN!!!! I hope she likes Kim Carnes, because she is going to get the best god damn unsolicited version of “Bette Davis Eyes” that anyone ever had sung straight into their unsuspecting heart.