Point of diversion

By Angad Chadha

3:10 p.m. May 5 2010

Facepalm!! Photo by scaredofbabies on Flickr, licensed under the Creative Commons.

I was at the gym recently, and had just finished my cardio exercise. I went into the locker room to get my towel and wipe off the rivulets of sweat that covered every inch of my body and irrigated every corner of my gym clothes. When I returned to the workout area, ready to begin my weight-lifting regimen, my eyes happened upon…

(What Should Have Happened)

…a line of students waiting for their turn on the treadmills. More precisely, my eyes happened upon one particular female student standing with her side towards me. My gaze lingered only for a second, as I had to rush over to the weights for fear that someone might occupy my favorite machines. Over the course of the next twenty or so minutes, I gathered that the girl, blonde with light pink highlights, was quite pretty. She had the stud nose-ring that I’m so partial to and, I’m embarrassed to say, also had the body type that I am automatically drawn to.
Towards the end of my time at the gym, I decided I had to do something. I wasn’t going to let someone so good looking just slip through my extra-traction workout gloves. I walked over to the gym’s front desk and asked for a paper and pencil, penned down a quick note, and placed it in the girl’s treadmill’s water bottle holder on my way out. A quick smile and I was on my way.

Two days later, she called in response to my note and we had dinner together that weekend. However, what we had more or less fizzled out after a few dates and I’ve now returned to simply seeing her at the gym and politely exchanging smiles when our eyes meet. At least I had a shot.

(What Actually Happened)

…a cute girl waiting in line for a turn at the treadmills. I couldn’t help notice her numerous positive physical features and that she was watching the same Food Network show that I was watching (Grill It! with Bobby Flay). I began wondering if she was dating anyone at the moment, then got lost in the interrupting streaks of pink in her blonde hair.

Towards the end of my time at the gym, I decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to leave her a simple note: I would be remiss if I didn’t do this and marginally crazy if I did. Better to err on the side of boldness, I assume. Call me sometime. Angad: 714-457-9654.

As I stood there, contemplating the note and whether it could be severely misconstrued, I watched the girl dismount her treadmill and walk towards me. I became intrigued and tried to smile while continuing my weightlifting. The movement was a failure, as my smile probably looked more akin to an ogre’s snarl due to the simultaneous physical exertion in my rear deltoids and trapezius muscles. The girl gave me a fleeting glance and walked over to the guy standing behind me, reached in his pocket, and got out her phone. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, said “see you back at the apartment, babe,” and walked out of the gym. End story. No shot. Cue facepalm.