Guy at the Gym

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This morning, I packed my workout clothes and took them to work with me, so I'd have no excuse for not going straight to the gym after work.

My gym is one of a large chain in the UK. Everyone has heard of it. In St. Albans, it's pretty much "the" gym. The whole city has a membership. For 35 pounds a month, I have access to the weight rooms, cardio equipment, aerobics classes, the locker room, saunas, and tanning beds. It's actually pretty great.

Two things I don't care for: #1--I have to walk about 30 minutes to get there. And 30 minutes back. #2--They blast techno music throughout the entire gym! How about a meditative workout in silence? Or how about turning the techno down just a little, so I can listen to my MP3 player? I feel completely tense and my head is pounding by the time I leave.

Anyway, I've had my first workout today, and it felt good. I'm heading home to make some chicken and pasta for dinner.

That's when I see him. To my right. On a weight machine. Wearing a gray t-shirt with TENNEESSEE sprawled across the chest in bright orange letters. My jaw drops. No way is that guy from Tennessee! I have to ask him.

"Excuse me," I smile. " Sorry to interrupt, but where'd you get that shirt?"

He stands and his smile lights up his face. Oh my god, he's GORGEOUS! "Actually, my ex-girlfriend gave it to me," he confesses. "She was from Tennessee."

"Um, oh," I stammer, blushing. "Well, I'm from Tennessee, so I thought maybe you were..."

He laughs, "No, but I have been there. Went to a football game at Neyland Stadium."

"No way!"

"Yeah," he laughs.

"How was it? It's crazy, right?"

"Yeah, it's crazy. I loved it. I also went to North Carolina and Georgia."

"Oh well, you've just been all over the south, haven't you?" I say.

"Yeah, I suppose," he laughs. "I loved the south."

"I miss it. It's so friendly. So where are you from?" I ask. I can tell he's not English.

He dazzles me with his smile again before saying, "I'm from Scottland."

His accent is so beautiful, I can't even talk. I think I say something like, "Hfffslajsdfovaffll."

I manage to ask him how long he's lived here; he says about four years now. "Well I hear Scottland's a very friendly place, too," I say.

"It is! You should definitely go some time," he smiles.

"I plan on it," I say. "It's on my list. Well, I'll let you get back to it." I'm inching away, feeling self-conscious about my lack of make-up and the fact that I did NOTHING to my hair. I look like shit.

We do the whole "have a good day" thing, and I leave. I tell myself that the next time I go, I have to make sure I look nice.

My first time to the gym, and now I'm afraid to go back. I'm afraid of seeing him again.

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