I have discovered an amazing night to go to my gym. Part of me wants to hold back and not tell you when it is… but the other part of me knows that you’re probably busy with “having a life” anyway… so I’ll share.
Friday night. The last hour before the gym closes. I’m gonna call it: Magic Hour.
Because it was magical.
Allow me to paint the picture…
I walk downstairs to drop off my bag in the locker room, like I usually do, only to see it’s mostly abandoned. I guess the rest of the women who live in my area were out on “dates” or “hanging with their friends.” It was just me and the worker who was cleaning it. It was silent. And wonderful.
I step outside to my weight room to look for leg stuff. I figure if you don’t have much time to workout, might as well work on leg stuff to get the most bang for your buck.
I look around. There are a good handful of people there. And they’re all men. No women in sight. Usually I’m in the minority. I’m rarely the only one of my kind. Already I’m liking my odds.
I take another look at the men. They’re all in great shape. They’re all about my age.
And get this… I was actually noticed.
I’m gonna repeat that. Even though repeating seems silly in blog form because I could just ask you to re-read it. But instead I’m going to retype it. For dramatic emphasis.
I was actually noticed.
Magical instance #1: I was sitting on an ab machine. An anxious dude came up when I was done with a set and asked if he could sub out with me to use the machine at the same time between sets. Since he was nice about it (unlike the grandpa I’ve spoken about before), I allowed it.
After he was done with his set, he got up, wiped down the machine, and returned the weight to my weight.
You know what that means? He took note of my weight so he could return to so as not to inconvenience me any further than he was already doing.
Magical instance #2: I was doing squats (like a boss) and a man came up and asked me how many more sets I had. I told him one. He said, “Sure, no problem, sweetie. ”
He called me sweetie. Normally, I’d be annoyed. But this was an evening workout so I wasn’t sleepy and hungry like usual. Plus, he said “Thank you, sweetie” when I told him I was done.
I felt like a weight room Princess.
Magical instance #3: I was using the pulley machine to do an ab crunch. I asked a guy hovering near the machine if he was using it (because I’m not an asshole). He kinda mumbled something and started doing pullups right next to it. Unsure if that was a yes or no, I just looked around for a minute. A giant man doing the same exercise I wanted to do on the other machine right next to it, pointed to the other pulley thing and said, “I’m done using that. You can use it, honey.” That’s right. Another pet name.
I said thanks and started using the machine. After my first set, he put a mat right next to me. He had been using it for his knees during the same exercise. I hadn’t even though about that. I put it under my knees. It was luxurious. At this point, I felt like a queen.
While I can’t always make it to the gym on a late Friday night, I now know that if I’m ever going through another gym boyfriend slump, I know when and where to show up in order to be treated like a weight room Goddess.
Of course I never actually speak to any of those guys beyond quick interactions. That’d be too much. I adore from a distance. And I like it that way.