People you will undoubtedly meet at a gym
Now that I am single again, I figured it might be a good time to get out there and meet some people. And since I won’t be taking Finstocks advice and hit match.com due to the fact that none of those people exist, I figured I’d try to next best place. I’m thinking about joining a gym.
Besides, I need to get my ass in shape. Nobody is going to want a piece of this mildly chubby, jowly jawed, broke-ass sloppy douchebag who gets a tad winded while taking a shower. And, since the love muscle ain’t going to be getting any regular scrimmage action. Besides, I want to act tough and try to resume my workout from 1997 and I’ll probably end up being whipped around like Sweetchuck in Police Academy.
I’ve noticed that there are really only three types of people that visit the gym. And I don’t mean those chocolate chip cookie hiding factories known as “Curves” or any other place where women with the self-esteem of river bottom mud go. A real gym…a meat market. I was hanging around this place locally just absorbing the amount of work I actually will need to do, and I noticed a vast majority of the people could be categorized in three ways.
1). The musclehead/meatball.
Can’t find this guy? You aren’t looking at all. This is the guy that’s wearing the tight gym shorts, a weight belt, a cut off “Defense Wins” t-shirt and an iPod in his ear listening to Survivor’s Eye Of The Tiger. He does about 4 reps of everything before dropping the weights loudly and grunting while doing so. He looks around to make sure that everyone knows he is working hard and then stares at his lats in the mirror. He might have a mullet, or may be balding and covers his hair with enough gel to qualify as a motorcycle helmet in most states.
Meatball’s conversations generally include the phrases “I’d do that one”, “I once was a college football player at a Division three school in Idaho, so, you know…” and “that blonde over there has a nice rack…my hands found that one out…high five!”.
His myspace page will have four albums of just him flexing and holding up his shirt in the mirror.
Girls love him, women loathe him. He is a douche.
2). The blonde/brunette attention whore.
There are only two places you’ll find these women. On the indoor track jogging slowly around, or on the stairmaster/treadmill/bike watching America’s Next Top Model. She’ll be wearing a tight shirt or tank top, uni-boob sports bra and loose fitting shorts that give everyone a peeky-poo at the silk panties she’s sporting. (Hello kitty!) She doesn’t “sweat”, just dribbles a little bit and wipes it off her brow with a towel like she just got out of the shower.
Blondies conversations usually include the sentences “I have a boyfriend”, “I’m super smart but like, you know, like to take care of myself”, “that chick over there is such a whore” and “that guy has a small cock…my hands found that one out…high five!”
She exudes self-confidence but has very little of it due to her still regretting giving senior Billy Floppycock a hand-job in the locker room as a sophomore in High School and being henceforth being labeled the “Stick Shifter”. Her myspace page has exactly 27 albums with 198 pictures in each one of them and encompass a visual experience of every day and angle of her life since college.
She is easy…once you get one glass of chardonnay in her.
3). The rest of us losers.
Yeah, us fat, gelatinous, divorced, broke and sloppy assholes that pay for an entire month of gym membership and show up exactly one and a half times. (The half time being 5 minutes on the treadmill before needing a donut.)
The women wear anything that covers themselves but just shy of a berka and they stand in front of machines looking at them hoping for weight moss by osmosis.
Us men wear XL t-shirts that say “Spank The Monkey” and wear calf length semi-white socks (semi white from jerking off into them for years). The sneakers we wear are approximately 5 years old and smell of decomposed lawn clippings.
Conversations with us might contain the phrases, “I love beer”, “I’ve dated a few strippers in my day” and “that dude is a tool”.
Our myspace pages contain one album with six pictures, four of them aren’t even us, one is from about a mile away and the last one is us when we were 21 years old and 30 pounds lighter.
We can’t even pay for sex. We’re useless.
There might be a few other subcategories interspersed in there, but who cares about them? I’m too busy trying to find my Rocky IV soundtrack, just so I can legally wear wrestling shoes.
But, just so you know, I played pro baseball…so…any of you ladies want some of this? How you doin?
Care to add to my list of people you’ll see at a gym?
First of all, don’t hang out where people still high five.
Secondly, there is also the guy who never works out while he;s there. You see him all the time, wandering, towel around neck; but you never see him on a machine. The only weight he lifts is his over priced fancy gym bag. Clearly there to meet women,or men…I don’t judge.
The high five is the best part. You know that you see these people too. Kind of like Todd from Scrubs.
And I don’t judge either. I wonder how many people will take offense to this.
No.1 type of guy doesnt just drop but he usually throws weights around like a freakin idiot. Can’t stand that shit. They also tend to grunt so loud you think they just shat their pants. Can’t wait to see the muscle…I mean muscles…
That’s because they probably did shit their pants. Or bust a hernia so bad it looks like a goddamn hemorrhoid.
If the muscle, er, muscles is what you want, that’s what you’ll get!
You forgot the mover and shaker. That’s the guy that is in decent shape and comes to the gym to talk to people, trying to drum up business for his insurance company or something. These are the guys that talk to you while you’re running on a treadmill (like you have the energy, breath or interest to talk back), and will follow you from station to station gently hinting that they want to know your current liability coverage.
I haven’t run into that guy. But anyone that will talk to me while I’m running and expect a reply can eat my ass. Breathing is hard enough.
I always get the geezer flashers. 50 year old guys who are doing the leg presses in their 1982 gym shorts and wife beater t’s, showing their frank and beans to anyone down wind. I used to take it personally like they were waiting for me to arrive and deliberately aiming their old nasty bits at me.
Now I’ve realized that it’s a life lesson - get out there and have as much sex as possible while I’m still young(ish). Because once I’m faced with 50 year old junk, it’s so all over.
“Franks and Beans!!!”
You could also include the “bender over”. The old guy that loves to be in the buff and I always seem to walk in on in the locker room while he is bent over and I end up looking at “the goat”.
Ah yes. The old-naked-people locker room shenanigans. You get the goat (bahhhh)… I get the fried egg boob special. Picture ole’ Nana in her saggy birthday suit, dayglo walmart flip flops, and pink fuzzy swim cap… squeezing by me as I’m sitting on the bench lacing up my nikes.
No one needs to see that.
“No one needs to see that.”
Agreed.
I haven’t been to a gym in years. I’d rather pay for my fast internet connection.
I work out in my garage all by my lonesome. =o(
I work out with my fast internet connection. My forearms have never been stronger.
I haven’t been near a gym for years….. thank you for reminding me why!
Anything I can do to help.
how about the cougars that wear everything 2 sizes too small and try to act like they’re still in their 20s
They’re good to look at some cameltoe action, if that is your kinda thing.
It seems as though you are jealous of the meatheads because they will get the attention whore that you desperately want.
Actually I am jealous of the meatheads because their shoes don’t have three year old crustified dog crap on them.
Burqa. Just sayin’.
I have a bright yellow-orange 2XL shirt that hangs down to my knees and some totallytootight workout pants. The shirt has a brown elephant with garbage coming out of his trunk and says “Too much junk in my trunk.” The pants, well they are black and clingy. So I’m guessing I’m a 2.5.
Will you be my workout buddy? I totally love donuts, and showers.
Thanks for the spelling lesson, Miriam Webster.
Wearing a bright yellow-orange shirt will land planes at LAX. And, sure. Showers are cool
It has been years since I was in a gym, but there was also two other types - the ones who had a lot of musle and fat, wore hankies on their heads and had a Harley in the parking lot; then there was the guy who stood too close for too long asking if he could help you…use the stationary bike. In a way I was grateful the local bikers declared the gym as a sort of “no kill” zone because so long as one of those guys was round this idiot would get his ass bounced out the door. Or through it.
Oh, there’s also the perv. The guy that deliberately gets on the machines behind you to watch your ass while you’re on the treadmill or eliptical and doesn’t even try to hide it. Or he always wants to show you how to work the machines even though you already know how to, and he tries to see if you’ll let him touch you- ya know, to make sure your muscles are moving properly… but he doesn’t work there and is obviously not a personal trainer and it always seems to be your thighs he wants to touch…? So, yeah, look out for guys checkin out your ass and trying to touch your thighs.
My gym needs more blonde/brunette attention whores.
i think your right about the curves, except the one in my home town is actually connected to “big wallys pizza”….
and i only really have one thing to say……i cant help the uniboob. once they got to a C cup it was 2 sports bras, and now i no longer run.