Save the Date

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Originally uploaded by Tokyorosa

There's a crappy cell phone photo of a couple of days on the calendar that I use to keep track of gym visits. Each day I make some notation of what I did. On the 10th, I was feeling poorly, so I skipped the gym. On the 11th, I did the lower body (LB) weightlifting part (of my upper-lower body split routine) and abdominals (crunches, sit ups, and twists) and 40 minutes of cardio. Each day I make it to the gym I also get a stamp. Last month it was the skull and crossbones. This month it's an orange snake. Next month I think I'll go with a green tiger. (Thank you, Target $1 bins, for the cheapie stamps.) Doing this made me realize a couple of things: One is that I'm really not motivated by stamps, not even a whole month of stamps. And--

Crap. What was the other thing?

I had to look away for a minute to critique Dave's wardrobe choices for a "dress-up" day at work tomorrow. He was trying to pair tan pants with black shoes and a green shirt and I was, like, well, you are a computer programmer, a profession not known for fashion acumen, so if you have to go that route I can at least be thankful that you're not trying to pair your good pair of Teva sandals with black socks on "dress-up" day, right? (Not that Dave even owns Teva sandals. That's just an example of the kind of thing you'd expect from a bunch of programmers. In fact, one of Dave's coworkers routinely wears flip-flops to work. Oh, they're high-priced flip-flops, not those dollar store rubber things, but they're still flip-flops, you know?)

Anyway, I did get a stamp for today as I went to the gym solely for the purpose of doing cardio and seeing my Gym Boyfriend. He usually works out in the evenings. He just got a haircut and it makes him look both hotter and shorter, which is both fortunate and unfortunate. The guy's not statuesque to begin with--oh, I don't mean he's one of those Pez dispenser-sized gym rats that look like upside down triangles with tiny little feet--but he is something of a mini-hottie. I wish he'd shave though. He's always working the scruffy angle.

Ha. I just thought about what this guy's response might be to some random woman critiquing his appearance online. I mean, seriously? It's not terribly stalkerish. I mean, I don't know the guy's name. I don't know where he lives or what kind of car he drives (something beige and nondescript is what I remember from the one time I saw him leave the gym). I don't know where he works or even what he does for a living. In the year or so I've been going to the gym, I've said two words to him (a polite, "Go ahead," when he asked me once if he could work in). But it is strange, no? This non-relationship of a relationship.

I gotta get a hobby.