Her name is Jordan. Her friend’s name, Paige.

It started as just another day at the gym when our eyes locked from across the room. Yet, I’m at THE GYM. Girls don’t like to talk to/meet guys at the gym. Girls DELIBERATELY avoid eye contact at the gym. And earbuds are everywhere.

And I understand. Girls are vulnerable at the gym. No makeup. Light clothing. Sweat. Gross.

Yet, this girl’s eyes are locked. on. me. And she really is beautiful—so much that I am distracted... it’s a good thing I can count to twelve on auto-pilot.

So, the battle of saboteurs begins. “I’m here to workout—it’s shoulder day.” “She’s here to workout.” “Oh shit, she’s looking at me again. Play it cool.” “Was that an eight count?” “Is she looking?” “We don’t approach girls at the gym.” “Where did she go?” “Oh, there she is... and she’s looking at me again.”

Next thing I know, I’ve completed my workout. The moment of truth... I should at least show up, right? At least say “Hi.”

Her and her friend follow me to the locker room. Interest? Perhaps. Perfect.

Yet, they don’t end up in the locker room. They go straight after I round the corner. Maybe they’ll come in the other side? I’ll change clothes and reassess.

I walk out of the locker room, and she’s on a piece of equipment closest to the locker room. Our eyes lock again. Smiles are exchanged.

And. I. walk. out.

Chicken shit.

Okay, breathe. I’m sitting in the car, feeling low and I have to pee. After a couple of minutes, I convince myself to go back in.

As I re-enter and round the corner, the girls are right there. Finally, I stammer out a “Hey! Good workout?”

She responds. We exchange names and smiles. I am nervous as hell...

Honestly, I had to rely on a “canned” line (I had to come back in and say “hi,” because I would have kicked myself for the rest of the day if I didn’t.)... and I’m not even sure how it delivered. I’m surprised I didn’t just utter caveman grunts.

Somehow, I manage to invite her to come see me tonight... (at work, but at least it’s something), and we part... me ducking into the bathroom.

And I start shaking uncontrollably—like I have Parkinson’s. And I can’t stop, even while peeing. Even while washing up afterwards. Hell, am I even going to be able to walk out of there?

What’s going on? I talk to beautiful girls all the time. Or has it been a while? Is she just that hot? Why am I so nervous? Is this a victorious reaction to “showing up?” Where were my words, anyway? Why didn’t I say this? That? This?

My trembling slows enough to leave the gym. I didn’t see them on my way out... maybe they were on their way out too. I am glad I showed up. I may see her again, but then again, I may not... and life is too short to keep counting on the “next time.”

And maybe I even relieved her disappointment by coming back in to say hello.

And maybe I’ll see her tonight...

What i'm listening to:

(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave
Martha and the Vandellas
Heat Wave