Don’t I know you?

25 Apr

As previously established, I am the most awkward ever. Prior confirmation of this fact does not, unfortunately, stop me from accruing further oh-so-damning evidence. Take, for example, last evening and the case of the Wicked-hot Army Capitán.

While getting changed after work into my fitness “gear”, I had a premonition that yesterday would be a good day to not wear my standard gym uniform of ratty old t-shirt and shorts from high school, so I was feeling fairly cute – my hair was back in a decently attractive ponytail, my pasty-pale legs glowed nicely against the grey of my running shorts, and my shoulders well-displayed by a racer-back top.

Cute, that is, until I walked into the fitness center and stared straight into the eyes of Wicked-hot Army Capitán. Or, straight into his eyes in the mirror, which is essentially the same thing.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

You have to understand, WhAC isn’t just a new Gym God for a new gym. WhAC and I met waaaaaaaay back in February in a bar when I was sober and he was not and my friends were making out with his friends while I waited for them to be ready for me to drive them home. (Yes, this was the night of the arm-crossing.)

Another hot one I’d never see again. Better luck next time, Penny!

Then sometime last month I made the connection between the attractive guy from the fitness center who kept looking at me oddly and the mixed-race (Mexican and Native American. DEAR ZEUS, THE CHEEKBONES.) Wicked-hot Army Capitán who courteously got me water so I’d have something to hold and would stop crossing my arms. We’ve since been doing a pretty stellar job of limiting encounters and just all-around pretending to notice everyone but each other.

Then last night he was at the adjustable pulley machine thing… which happens to be right next to the leg lift machine with which I begin my weight routine.

Harrumph.

So what did I do? I turned up my iPhone, ignored his existence per previously established routine, and went about awkwardly lifting and lifting and wishing I’d shaved above my knee or not decided to wear shorts.

Awkward enough for you? Just wait – it gets better.

I’m lifting and lifting and breaking and then lifting some more when he turns and uses his side of my machine to stretch out his arms and back.

Do I look up and smile and be polite?

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

I lift and lift and get off that machine as quickly as possible. That’s what I do.

The rest of my weight routine passes mostly without incident until I need the free weights and he’s being all hot and sweaty and hot and did I mention his now-glistening cheekbones??? in front of them. There’s no way I can not be in his way, and I really want those 10 lbs. dumbells, so I take out a headphone and scuttle past while muttering “Excuse me” as he tries to see around me to watch ESPN Rundown. I grab the weights and shuffle back past and over to the side, but not without attempting a droll smile to say “Sorry about that, isn’t it a nuisance how small this place is?”

Smile, unacknowledged. ESPN was way more interesting (and less awkward) ((well, less awkward if you don’t count the fact that for some reason the TV was displaying orange as green, but whatever)).

But seriously, you guys. Why couldn’t I just smile and say “Hi!” to him at the beginning? Or, better, “Have we met? You look really familiar.”

Arghhhhhhh. We moved away from Aeaea because the society was getting a little too familiar. Our new home is much larger in terms of sheer acreage, if no-less military. But it’s a small world, after all.

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