The other night at the gym, I was sitting on the bench outside of class, wrapping up my hands, when this group of three girls came up and sat next to me. They were all dressed similar, in Nike stretch capri pants, sports bras, and lose-fitting razorback tanks. And they were all wearing Toms.
I was wearing an old pair of green sweat pants from Abercrombie (that I stole, go me) and an old gray shirt I usually sleep in, because I can’t afford workout clothes. Sure, I’d love to look cute and matchy and sexy at the gym, but I figure people aren’t really paying attention to that anyway, and I would rather spend money on work clothes or fun clothes to go out in, right (who are we kidding, I don’t look cute then, either)?
Already, I feel like shit next to these girls. The one closest to me, I recognized. From my sorority. Cassidy.
From what I gathered, she had been to class regularly (despite me never having seen her and her looking chubby), along with her friend, and they dragged girl no. 3 out against her will.
Girl no. 2: you really hate this don’t you?
Girl no. 3: yes, I am not looking forward to this at all. I like lipo…NOT working out.
Seriously? I thought of that episode of True Life when those two girls want to be in Playboy but they are convinced they aren’t hot enough—even though they are. So they get liposuction on the smallest amount of fat on their stomachs. If they would have done 3 sit-ups, I’m sure it would have disappeared.
I mean these girls next to me were chubbier than that, but shit. Just do the class and get it over with, right? I didn’t think they were THAT bad—I was starting to enjoy them, actually (although I still have to convince myself to go).
It was time for class to start, so I claimed my bag and started stretching. The triad lined up next to me. When the instructor arrived, half the class groaned. I hadn’t had this guy yet, but I’d heard bad things about him—that he wasn’t fun or personable like the other trainers.
Oh, but of course…when he started class, the triad got to flirting with him, and he loosened up—but only around them.
Cassidy: “So Mark, we going to the bar after this or what?? heh heh.”
I was aggravated. Once again, it’s those girls who piss me off. Why would you go to the bar after the class? You’re already fat enough. And seriously? How is it that you can get the toughest trainer in the gym to soften up for your ass?
When class was over, they all hopped into Cassidy’s new Lexus and were off. Once I got home, I checked out Cassidy’s Facebook page: married.
Anyway, last night Gizzy and I completed the dating challenge (I believe she told you about this last week)—go to a bar alone to essentially pick up guys.
I made a night of it, and planned to go to the bar right after work until a movie I wanted to see, “Midnight in Paris,” was playing at 7.
So I did.
I went to this trendy wine bar right across the street from the movie theatre, ready to get my flirt on. But once I arrived, I was pretty much the only person there. The bartender told me it was “retail night” meaning all of their bottles of wine were sold at retail price. After he told me I could take the bottle with me if I didn’t finish, I was sold and bought a $40 bottle for $15.
After one glass, I was feeling real tipsy. I completely blame this new low calorie diet I’m on.
So I ordered a plate of hummus. Much better.
Honestly, no single guys ever arrived, which was my biggest fear. It was literally all couples. I was bummed, but I continued to sip my wine, eat my hummus, and read the magazine I brought.
I drank two glasses of wine, and enjoyed a free dirty gin martini from the bartender before I closed my tab and marched over to the movie theatre with the wine shoved in my purse, along with some popcorn I packed from home.
I got into the movie and proceeded to polish off the wine, drinking it straight from the bottle despite the people around me.
Best idea ever…until I had to drive home. It was the most unsure I’ve ever been about driving myself home, and I was really thankful when I made it here.
So, I didn’t meet a guy. But you know what? It was fun night out—a great reminder that I don’t need a guy to have a date night.