Manhattan Confusion

So the other morning, a few days following my last post, I was back at the gym and spotted the crush, gorgeous as usual. I crossed paths with him walking in but soon lost sight of him as I got situated on one of the treadmills which are located completely opposite the area where he lifts weights. Midway through my run I caught an obstructed glimpse, but sticking to my program I shook off the distraction figuring I might see him on my way out. And sure enough I did. Hence the confusion.  


My crush was working out with another guy. For a minute I thought nothing of it. So they’re friends. They’re competitive, they motivate each other. Girls go to the gym together. Yes, I’m outnumbered by gay guys in this particular neighborhood but that doesn’t mean he’s gay. But then, right before my eyes I watched as he and the new friend picked up fresh towels and headed to the steam room.


In my head the dirge started playing.



So, yesterday in the office as my gay work husband Greg and I recapped our morning workout he mentioned that I should forget about ‘Popeye arms’ and perhaps go for the cute guy in spin class who sits on a bike in front of us. “Well,” I said. “He seems nice, but I don’t know if I trust your judgment.”


“What do you mean?” Greg asked.


“I mean you had no idea the other one was playing on your team. How do you know this one’s not?”


“No, I think I know,” Greg replied. “Seriously, he seems like a good one. And he’s cute too.”


“We’ll see,” I said back with a chuckle.



At our gym the A.M. crowd rarely changes from day to day. We see the same faces on the same machines over and over. But this morning I immediately noticed a new group standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor near the stretch mats. Hmm, I thought. Foreign? There were about five of them, all tall, maybe Nordic, looking around like they were unsure of what to do or where to go. Anyway, I thought walking past them to the spin room where I claimed my bike with a towel. As I stepped back out into the main gym I noticed Greg in a corner area working his core, so I walked over to join him as we waited for our class to start. Minutes later he was making eyes at me in the mirror signaling that you know who (from spin class) was behind us. Funny, I thought, there’s the guy I’m supposed to make my new crush.


Well, what happened next is so unbelievable to me, that when I think about it again I must remind myself that yes, this is New York. We are living real-life Law & Order.


Oddly enough, the strange pack of foreigners was suddenly standing in a loose circle around my soon-to-be new crush. And as I walked over to reach for a set of dumbbells I heard the interrogation.

“So when was the last time you saw her?” “What exactly do you know?” “Do you have your things in a locker?”


What was I hearing? An undercover sting at the gym with my new prospect. I couldn’t believe my ears…or my eyes as I saw them grab hold of his arm and escort him away. And I looked at Greg again in the mirror to see an equally horrified look on his face that soon turned to one of hysterical laughing. “Well,” he said. “Maybe he’s not a good one either.”


My luck as usual! I open up the possibility of finding a date at the gym (go ahead and laugh) and what do you know the first one turns out to like the boys as much as I do and the new one gets dragged away by undercover cops at six-thirty in the morning—he could very well be the next Ted Bundy for all I know. So it looks like my days of dreaming about guys at the gym are over. I get the feeling it’s just not meant to be.


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