Storms and Fevers

I almost walked INTO my gym crush today. Although, not a great encounter, as he avoided my eyes. I have figured there are some possible reasons for this:

1) he finds me hideously unattractive
2) he finds me awesomely attractive that he doesn't know what to do or
3) (and most likely) my attempting to apologise for nearly bumping into him with my 'sorry' which, when it left my mouth, came out freakishly croaky like I was Freddy friggen Kruger, scared him away... in my defence, I did have my earphones in and music on... :(

On the positive side - he did stop and let me pass, so, either he's a regular 2010 gentleman, or I was just too scary so he wanted to keep me where he could see me?

He did however redeem himself somewhat, and offered what I would consider an gesture of olive branch proportions in the gym world - he came and used the exercise bike next to mine! Believe it or not, this is a BIG development. Hey, I wouldn't put a deposit on the wedding cake just yet, but... So, we both sat there, riding the crap out of our bikes, riding to big fat nowhere - spending 10 gloriously awkward minutes, avoiding each others gazes, pretending to be intensely loving the music playing in our respective mp3 players. It's ridiculous, but I love it!

It's been so long since I had the opportunity to spy on his lovely physique gripping thy old rowing machine - but I live in hope for the next opportunity to do so. He has a Vin Diesel air about him, and is built like a mythical roman god. His arms.... oh god, they make me weak at the knees. Dear God... sorry for bringing you into this discussion, but I think I need to get laid?

Ok, so like any other crush, it will probably kill me slowly from the inside - but in the meantime, it's a nice incentive for visiting the gym and getting some much needed exercise. And hey, it's not a bad distraction from the crap going down at work.

And, dear Gym Crush - if you are out there, and you're reading this - please don't be afraid of me, I am lovely really.

Until next time,
SB