I mean, really. Come on.
In the elevator from the garage to the main floor of the gym, I silently hoped there was some other explanation for the multitude of vehicles in the parking lot and that I'd be able to work out without all the annoyances of a crowded gym, but when the doors slid open I was confronted with the cold, harsh reality: the place was packed, absolutely teeming with dateless losers! I couldn't believe it. I glanced at the non-existent watch on my wrist and scrunched my face into a look of utter confusion. It was way too late for anyone to be getting in a quick, pre-date pump or cardio fix. No, these people were all bona fide freaks that no one loved. Unbelievable. The odds of having a smooth workout, unencumbered by the masses, were looking slim indeed.
I let out a really heavy and audible sigh at my misfortune, then slapped a couple plates on the bench-press bar and went to it. In between sets, I looked around at all the schlubs and schlub-ettes relegated to the gym for a workout on the most romantic night of the year. Some of them were actually pretty attractive. I figured they had shitty personalities or something. I mean, why else wouldn't they have plans tonight?
Continuing my workout, I was all set to get started on some Bent-Over One-Arm Tricep Extensions, but I couldn't find the 40-pound dumbbells. Turns out some girlfriend-less asshole was bogarting the 30-, 35-, and 40-pounders. They were all clustered around him on the floor while he struggled to do a Seated Palms-In Alternated Shoulder Press with some 25's. I calmly approached and asked if he was using the 40's. He replied that he was "about to" and waved me off.
That really got my blood boiling.
Settling for the 45-pound dumbbells (which were too heavy) and working through three (sub-optimal) sets of ten (less-than-ideal) reps, I ran through all the things I wished I had the balls to say to the guy: Why are you here? I can understand nobody wanting to date you. I get that. But don't you have any single friends you can hang out with tonight? Wild 94.9's "Bitter Ball" started 30-minutes ago and it's supposed to be a ton of fun for people who find themselves alone on Valentine's Day. Why aren't you there? Why didn't you just stay home and masturbate? (I know it crossed my mind.) Are you really just that big of a loser that you have no girl and no friends and nothing better to do on Valentine's Day than come to the gym and workout--and fuck up my workout in the process?
I mean, come on!
Anyway, despite having to contend with a number of society's cast-offs--the freaks, geeks, and lame-o's who decided to descend on the gym tonight--I actually had a pretty decent squeeze. On my way out, I spotted the super-cute, front-desk girl that I've been secretly fantasizing about for months. She has the sweetest smile and absolutely gorgeous eyes. I'd always assumed that someone as beautiful as her would undoubtedly have a boyfriend or, even if she was single, be totally unapproachable. But here she was, alone and looking better than ever. I knew that if I ever had a shot, this was it, and I knew I'd regret it forever if I didn't say something to her.
"Shame you have to work on Valentine's," I said as I walked past her toward the elevator. She looked up at me and smiled.
"Oh, it's cool," she said. "I don't have a boyfriend anyway, and I didn't really have anything better to do..."
I stepped into the elevator and watched her as the doors closed. When they had fully closed and I could no longer see her, I couldn't help but think: What kind of a pathetic loser has nothing better to do on Valentine's Day than work--at a gym, no less?
Speaking of work, last week was brutal and I've got some serious catching up to do. I better get started right away or I'll be up all night...