Treadmill Stalker

Dear guy-at-the-gym-that-I'm-not-interested-in:

I'm sure you're a nice fellow. I'm just not interested.
I don't know why. I take that back. I do know why. I have my reasons. They're legit.

So, just, no.

It was a no when you approached me three months ago offering to "Spot" me on the bench press when I was lifting a whopping fifteen pounds (really?).

It was a No when you tried to strike up a conversation with me two days later when I was doing squats on a balance ball.

And then the following Tuesday it was a NO (raised eyebrow and annoyed look included) when you straight pissed me off by trying, yet again, to chat me up at the bench press.

I was relieved when you left me alone two days later, that blissfully uneventful Thursday.

And then I didn't see you for a couple of months.

And then last night happened.

For some reason you decided that not seeing me for a couple of months meant that all of my hard work at getting you away from me was for nihil and you stalked me at the treadmill with a "HEY! Haven't seen you in a while! What have you been up to?"

Ugh.

And when I turned and had to unplug my earphones from my ears and disconnect the new Secondhand Serenade album from my head I was not happy and you received a curt reply: "I only come here two nights a week." You said "I feel you."

And then you mistook my looking out for you from the corner of my eye for interest and got on the treadmill next to mine.

Clearly, no, no you don't "feel me."

And twenty minutes later I exited, silently, without looking your way, hoping you would get a clue.

Still a NO.

Feel me now?


Sigh. I guess a wide-eyed stalker might be better than the tiny stinky-man who insists on running next to me.

I think I might need a new gym. One that keeps a healthy stock of this guy on hand to flirt with me: