Home > Daily Life > What I’ve Been Up To, Part 2

What I’ve Been Up To, Part 2

November 28, 2012 Leave a comment Go to comments

Following a birthday month filled with eating and drinking, which happened to coincide with the weather getting colder and the end of my bike riding, I noticed a certain doughiness setting back in.  In addition, a friend of mine asked me to attend her son’s basketball game.  Now I know you’re thinking: he won’t dare rip into adorable 8-year olds running around and playing a basketball game that will end up 8 to 6.  Rest assured:  my friend’s kid plays NCAA Division I basketball.  Thus, using the associative property, I’m old.

So I did what I swore I’d never do in a previous blog post:  I rejoined a gym.  And it’s not the worst thing in the world.  I’ve kept up with it and don’t feel lost.  Of course, the average age of the other members is about 83, so I feel right at home wandering around trying to figure out how to work the machines.  A few observations:

  • Years of bike riding has left my upper body nearly worthless.  In fact, at Thanksgiving, my stepmother asked me to take the 26-pound turkey out of the oven, then had second thoughts and said I better wait for my father to help.  Anyway, I was doing some upper body stuff at the gym one day.  Then a high school girl used the machine after me and only had to move the peg up one notch.  Emasculating.
  • There are a lot of creepy dudes at the gym.  I have no idea how a girl could go there with headphones in.
  • I walked into the locker room the other day and there was a buck naked dude, bent over at the waist.
  • I need to upgrade my gym attire.  Sweating through my Redd Foxx t-shirt is no way to present myself in public.

I suppose the goals of my new commitment to fitness are two-fold:  not dying from obesity or The Sugars, and trying to become moderately more attractive.  I was once rated as high as a 9.25, but I know that was generous and was most likely taking only my perfectly symmetrical facial features into account.  But regardless, even though I attempt to steer my eyes clear of my mirror post-shower, I caught a view of myself recently and decided I’m no longer a giant husky baby.  Emboldened by this, and a bad night out the night before, I recently looked into what several friends have been suggesting for months:  match.com.  Now I didn’t pay for anything, and I signed up using a phony email and UserID just so I could see what’s out there.  Here’s what I found:

  • As much as I’d like to think that I could still play in the 18-25 category, I realized I could barely play there when I was 18-25.  So I more realistically selected 30-35 within fifteen miles of here.
  • 60% of the, well, what do you call them?  Candidates?  Matches?  I’ll go with dames.  60% of the dames were automatically eliminated based on their pictures.  If you can’t get gussied up enough for a single 1″x1″ picture on a dating website, you’re not for me.  Also, a lot of the dames have the crazy eyes.
  • Another 20% were struck down based on their screen names.  Anything that refers to dogs or ‘luvtoteach763’ or anything like that–gone.
  • So with 20% left, I started clicking through some actual profiles.  Some of the other keywords that eliminated them:  billiards, Flyers, hiking, devout, conservative, Sea Isle, dancing, DMB, anyone who is looking for someone within 150-mile radius or willing to consider guys from 4’8″ to 8’6″.
  • At this point, I was down to about 3 dames.  One hadn’t been eliminated simply because her profile was as phony as mine with nothing filled in.  Another had a very long paragraph about her agnosticism.  So that left one, and in reality, I’m sure if I read enough, she was probably a Flyers fan who loves shooting pool and dancing at bars in Sea Isle in the summer.  But her pictures were really, really good.
  • Oh, also, everyone seems to have a ‘sense of humor’ at the top of their wishlist for their date.  This has to be a lie, as if that is really the leading criteria, I’d be Fonzie.

Okay, the percentages were slightly exaggerated I guess.  I suppose there were probably a few who it wouldn’t kill me to sit at Starbuck’s with for a half hour.  (Although I get so annoying when I’m over-caffeinated.)  So I can’t say I would never do it–I leave that window cracked just a smidge, especially after my experience this weekend.

I was running wingman for a mid-divorce friend.  Without going through the whole convoluted story, we ended up at a relatively younger bar in Philly.  While he was talking to some girl he knew, I was mindlessly texting and tweeting on my phone.  Anyway, I end up going to the restroom, and there’s an attendant in there.  So he gives me a squirt of soap and some towels, but for some reason, my wallet was in my coat at the bar.  So I tell him I’ll take care of him later.  But I saw some doubt in his eyes when I said that, so I went back to the bar, got my wallet from my coat, and walked back to the bathroom to tip him.  On the way back, I took a different route and ended up walking through a break in the bar where two girls were talking, one on either side of the break.  So as I walk between them, I say, “Oh, I’m sorry.”  Then this smoking hot 27-year old girl says something like, “You don’t have to apologize.  Why are you saying you’re sorry?”

I quickly formulate a response.  In the two seconds it took me to come up with it, and for two seconds following, I thought I was being charming and witty.  In the four days following, I realize how ludicrous it was.  “Because I’m an idiot!” I blurted out.  Of course, even after four days of thinking about it, I have yet to come up with a better response.

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