On one hand I liked not having witnesses to what could be a moment of distressing rejection, but on the other hand I wondered if I looked like a total stalker. I followed him out of the gym to his car.
My sweaty appearance was less than the first impression I’d want to make on anyone, but I knew that if I didn’t say something, anything, that I’d regret it. The nerves were no better now than when I’d first seen him. While I mustered the audacity to introduce myself I thought, “If he’s still here by the time I’m done, I WILL say something.” My workout was a crutch of procrastination. I wanted to approach him but didn’t know how or what to do without drooling. I couldn’t tell what his background was but he reminded me of Dwayne Johnson. I was pedaling away on the elliptical machine when I saw what looked to be a modern day Adonis across the gym.
