A few interesting things happened today while I was at the gym. For those of you who aren’t already aware of my incredibly rigorous gym routine, I suggest you read my Gym Rat post.
I was in the weight room networking with the heavy lifters. I approached my favorite arm machine as a man was getting off of it. We made awkward eye contact, and I asked him if he was finished. He said, “No, I’m not. But you can rotate in.”
My first thought was that this man was totally delusional. “Rotate in?” Did he seriously think I was going to be lifting more than one set? Before I could tell him that my personal trainer didn’t allow this sort of interaction with commoners, he ushered me into the machine. I was pissed off for a couple of seconds, but then it dawned on me: I had a workout partner.
This was the moment I’d been waiting for, the moment that would take my gym rat routine to the next level. I’ve never had a workout partner before, but I assumed it meant I was entering the big leagues and that I needed to stop wearing lip gloss to the gym. I gave him the once over, looking him up and down to take inventory of his assets. I decided that I’d like to see him put a little more effort into concealing his armpit hair, but other than that, he’d do. Being the creep that I am, I began to think about our potential together. Our relationship would start innocently enough, but eventually we’d become more than just workout partners. We’d pump iron together then hit the town in matching Affliction tees, arm wrestling anyone who dared challenge us.
I started to lift, feeling a little uncomfortable that he was standing right behind me as I was fully fantasizing about our future together. After about 5 reps, I hopped off and let him take his turn. I realized I’d lost him as a workout partner when he looked at the weight stack and noticed I had been lifting a mere 25 lbs. After finishing a machine, I usually move the weight stack from my typical 15-25 lbs to a more impressive amount, such as 90-100 lbs. That way, the next person that gets on is blown away by my strength and athleticism. Unfortunately, I forgot to move it this time so my man learned the true feebleness of my upper body.
He sat down, leaving me standing awkwardly behind him. I then realized that I had no idea what to do while I was waiting to “rotate in.” I felt perhaps I should look revved up for my next set so I started jogging in place. I shook my arms out and moved my head from side to side, pretending someone was filming me for an Eminem/8 Mile music video montage.
He got up, returned the weight stack to 25 lbs and said, “have at it, it’s all yours.” I knew what he meant was, “have at it, it’s all yours, and don’t quit until you can lift something a little heavier than a kindergartner,” but I let it go. We’d had a moment together and I didn’t want to ruin the memory.
The next thing I saw was a man wearing a shirt that said “Beer is food.” I have a couple of bones to pick with this man. First of all, he had a build that I didn’t know was possible to obtain this far from the Jersey Shore. He was huge. His neck was enormous, and I immediately wanted to accessorize it with a hemp and/or pukka shell choker-necklace. He purposely underestimated his t-shirt size, which is my first problem with him. Why this man thinks his t-shirt size hasn’t changed since middle school is beyond me. Nevertheless, I had a clear view of his steroid-induced physique and I kind of enjoyed looking at it while I was “in between sets.”
Aside from his nipple-hugging crop top, the other problem I have with him is the statement on his shirt. A huge beer fan myself, I completely agree that beer can sometimes be food. Give me a tall brew with a spoonful of peanut butter and I’ll be good for a couple of hours. I do not think that this man would agree. There is no way a man with a build like that thinks that beer is food. I’ve seen people who adhere to that standard, and I’m here to tell you that the result is not as well sculpted. Unless he spikes his Mich Ultras with adderall and whey protein, I think he is a liar.
So that was my day at the gym. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll stay for more than 30 minutes.