I joined a new gym on Saturday. Yes. I did. I finally – after months of saying I might do it – did it. It’s going to be about a $30 per month savings, which I believe is significant. However, I very nearly backed out at the last moment when the dude who was signing me up forced me to endure a side conversation he had with another dude (presumably a trainer).
This is how that went:
Trainer Dude: Hey man, how was your Friday night?It’s really impossible for my eyes to go far enough back into my brain to obtain the appropriate level of eye-rolling necessary to convey the idiocy of this exchange. I made a slight gagging motion for good measure, and I wondered what kind of woman would date a guy who goes spilling the beans to his coworkers (in front of customers no less) about their drunken, naked escapades. Poor thing. One can hope that eventually she’ll grow a brain.
Sign Up Dude: Not bad… not bad. Me and my girl drank a bottle of Grey Goose and played strip poker. I can’t complain.
As for the membership, I stayed the course – for better or worse.
Of course, joining this particular gym has its perks. Both Meg and MM belong here, which gives me oodles of options when it comes to the comings and the goings. Meg and I have been twice together. Yesterday we started a weight training circuit workout, and today my arms and legs feel like they may fall off.
MM and I worked out for the first time together on Monday, which – for whatever reason – to me, felt like a big deal. However, no one seems to share in this sentiment (including him). Call me crazy, but I guess it felt like I was further closing the gap of apart time by becoming a member at his gym. This isn’t dating. This is the business of daily life.
I asked him about 100 times if he thought it was, “weird” to be working out together. He said no… like 100 times.
And so, I suppose, we keep moving forward.