Shawn-Guy from the Gym

Spring is here.  Let's party.

OK, I gotta fess up.  What's up with Shawn from the Gym constantly popping up in my life if I'm never to date him?

He's tall; he's cute; we have a million things in common (motorcycles,masters' degrees, bikes, food, beer, craft-beer, punk rock, sarcasm, humor, an intense love of the gym, pubs, the list goes on).  But we can't seem to connect.

"I'll find out if he's with anyone," said my favorite bartender.  A few weeks later, "No, he's not with anyone."  Then a few weeks later, "I told him he should ask you out.  You two have tons in common, and you're a great lady," she added.

So I saw him out one night at our favorite pub.  I sent him over a beer.  He sent me over a beer, then we both laughed and chatted for about an hour before I went on my way.  The next day I looked for him at the gym, but no dice. 

Then I saw him the other day.  I was taken by surprise because I never see him during the week at the gym, only the weekend.

"Natalie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he shouts as if I were his long, last best friend left on the planet.  "How are you?" he asks walking over to the treadmill where I'm running.

 I'm horrified because:
1. I'm not wearing any deodorant
2. My hair is filthy greasy and pulled into a ponytail on top my head in sort of an 1982 Valley Girl hairdo
3. I have a huge ZIT on the side of my nose, making me look like a witch stirring her cauldron.
4. I hadn't brushed my teeth.
5. My gym suit is two weeks old and covered with sweat-stains.

"Uh, fine," I say and avoid eye-contact lest he see the golf-ball sized zit.  "You're not normally here at this time," I note, talking out of the side of my mouth so he can't smell my bad breath.

He then happily launches into a story about his new hours and job, which I only stare straight ahead while I'm running lest he see the bowling ball sized zit or smell my armpits.  He finishes his speech and I try to smile sideways at him while he happily walks off.

Then later, I noticed him, as I was leaving the gym, looking at me and starting to walk my way when I fled the gym as fast as possible.  I mean, crimeny, I looked bad.

But what's the dealio?  He is always excited to see me.  He pauses as if wanting to ask me something, yet he never asks for my phone number.

Sigh.