The past two times I’ve worked out at the Princeton Club I’ve been hit on by middle aged men.
The first time I was jogging around the track and this guy in terribly maintained dreads kept hollering at me.
I pretended I couldn’t hear.
I mean, I was jogging.
Did he honest to God think I was going to stop jogging and talk to him?
Then, I forgot about him and started walking around the track to cool down,
He then tried to holla at me again.
I responded with “Hey,” and continued my lap.
And avoided the side of the gym he was on.
Tonight, a middle aged man who hardly spoke English approached me while I was stretching after my workout.
He wanted to know my expert opinion on how to work out, because it was his first day at the club.
I made the mistake of telling him I could speak Spanish.
He then fell in love with me.
He told me he was a mechanic without a car.
And he asked when I worked out next.
I told him it was different everyday.
He said he’d remember me and give me his card next time he saw me.
I shook his hand and booked it out there.
I really, really, really hate talking to anybody when I’m at the gym.
Especially middle-aged men.
I could possibly make an exception for a twenty-something attractive fellow, but let’s face it. That ain’t gonna happen.
Maybe I should stop wearing leggings as pants when I work out…