It was my ex’s idea that we join a gym. It’s not my fault that I lost all the weight and really got into the whole workout thing and she didn’t. Probably just another sign that we weren’t on the same page. Little wonder that that relationship didn’t last and that I’d eventually find myself working out my “issues” socializing with this lycra and spandex crowd without her. 

A year or so later it was my regular thing and I was comfortable enough with the scene that I invited my out-of-state little sister, Jessica, to join me in a workout class when she was visiting. Talking over a few beers after class I got a chance to relate to my sister as an adult and as a fellow college student. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I can relate to her going away to college and somewhat striking out on her own, like I had done.

She told me that the aerobics instructor, Terry, seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t recall where she would have met her. A bit later I described Terry a bit more and a light bulb went off in Jessica’s head. She met Terry once as TJ at a party and Terry seemed a lot more shy. Interesting. 

The next time I saw Terry we were both attending another instructor’s class and Terry told me that she knew my sister through my sister’s boyfriend. Terry and I had been friends for sometime but the Terry that I had known was the somewhat brash individual who lead the Wednesday night hyper-aggressive aerobics class that I attended. We both connected about where my sister knew her from and it was like I saw a different side of Terry. Anyway I wouldn’t go to all of this trouble to relate this story except for this one odd thing.

When we were transitioning from the aggressive running part of the class to the isometric floor exercises, the instructor wanted us to slowly jog around the room, to bring our heart rates down. As we began our lap Terry took my hand. Simple innocent gesture, holding someones hand—but it did something to me.

We finished the lap and the instructor told everyone to take their pulse. I hesitated letting go of Terry’s hand. I mean I could just as well take my own pulse with either hand. But I let her hand go (of course, she may have simply let my hand go first, but this is how it felt to me). Then we continued class, with all of the normal sweating and straining and singing to cover up the pain we were going through. It was fun. But just before class ended Terry got up and left without so much as a good-bye or a look back. So I finished the class trying to figure out what the hell just happened. 

I have another friend that I often see in class, Marie, who has also been in Terry’s class with me and in some of the floor exercises Marie and I have held hands. So perhaps Terry was working off of that little picture. But it was just the kind of thing that got my little head spinning. I mean, it’s not that often that I’m jogging around the classroom and one of the really cute instructors comes up from behind and takes my hand. It was just the right thing to get the infatuation corpuscles going again. Yeah, “again,” as in this isn’t my first potential “gym based” hook-up. Let’s just say that in the shadow of my marriage breaking up a friend or two might have lent a sympathetic ear or just a bit more. Still, this was completely unexpected as was her suspiciously rapid departure. 

Oh, and then later that day several workout buddies were planning on heading to a club that evening to listen to live music, and the group organizer, Steve, happened to mention that Terry would be in the group. I wasn’t sure if I could make it but then I told him to count me in because I thought it’d make for an innocent “date,” even if this really felt like some kind of set up. Alas, it all fell apart because most of the group backed out and Terry wanted to go someplace else entirely. It’s pretty bad when you’re trying hard to overcome your indecision and then things fall apart anyway. So the accidental “date” was not a go. Damn. I guess I’m going to have to do something more direct. I just don’t know what that is at the moment, even though I can’t think of anything else right now. Damn.

All because someone unexpectedly took my hand. Granted, I’d previously saw her as a bit unapproachable. Jesus, what would happen if some cute girl unexpected gave me a kiss? Would I start picking out wedding invitations? I’m just kidding, but it’s obvious that my heart hasn’t got the foggiest idea about what’s going on. For the most part my heart is living in the past, watching re-runs of relationships that weren’t or editing out the bad stuff to produce the right kind of life-support serum to get by until quite unexpectedly some foreign stimulus makes it’s way past all the sleeping guards and interrupts the heart mid-re-run. “What’s this?” it says. It might not even bother to decipher whether the intruder is friendly or not. That doesn’t matter. It just bounds out of bed, rips off all of the life-support wiring and then, changing into street clothes, it can be heard saying, “Time for business. Code Blue, Code Blue!” as it runs out the door. This is the kind of thing that can happen only in the psych ward of my life, my emotions. Ugh.

The next time I saw Terry I was determined to do something simple and see if she’d be interested in going to a movie with me. I probably shouldn’t have chosen an aerobics class that she would be teaching for this mission. I was all self-conscious when class began. I tried to pull it together, try to relax but to no avail. I must have been corrected a half dozen times by her. That was more than a little deflating. Then this hunk strolled into the classroom and all the girls squealed. What little self-confidence I had slipped right out the door. Ugh! What was worse was that I didn’t have my glasses on so I couldn’t tell what they were getting so excited about. Jesus, and of course Terry was the worst (i.e., most vocally aroused) of the bunch. Excuse me, but I’ll just rip up the little unused tickets right here. God damn it all, I know that this is a flaming over-reaction, but that was how I fucking felt. So, it was my turn to leave class just before it ended, to try to recover in private. No point risking making an awkward situation worse. 

I decided to go a different route and I put out a call to my buddy, Steve, to see if he could get me Terry’s number and then I’d just call her and ask her out. Yeah, he never called back. Then I remembered that I had the number of the gym’s aerobics coordinator and she’d have Terry’s number. A little bit of small talk later I had Terry’s number. Okay, deep breath, I made the call in the morning, no response, so I left a message. What’s the likelihood that she’ll call back… I don’t care how “modern” the world may seem to be but, except for very close friends and family, girls don’t call back. So, I tried again in the afternoon and she picked up. 

I was tempted to just hang up, but even I have a limit to how lame I can be. A little bit of small talk and then I asked the question. Turns out that she was going to be working when the movie I wanted to see would be playing, so she wasn’t going to be available. A bit more small talk, she seems to like kids (I mentioned spending time with a friend’s son this past week) and she’s anti-war (one of the movies I wanted to see explored this topic) and that she has a boyfriend. Or was that a semi-boyfriend.

She referred to him twice, the second time saying “…well, I call him my boyfriend (pause), the person I’m dating.” God, I’m getting fucking tired of these girls with their semi-boyfriends (Yes, I’ve had the misfortune of falling hard for someone who was already in a less than clear relationship). What’s that suppose to mean? If she was available tomorrow would she have accepted? Would she have lied and said she wasn’t available? Would she have accepted and then sprung the boyfriend news on me halfway through the night? Fuck. I know that I wouldn’t be going through any of this if (1) my sister hadn’t recognized her, & (2) she hadn’t held my hand.

The truth of the matter is that I’m glad that I took the opportunity to ask Terry out and now we can go on with life until some other poor unsuspecting woman innocently takes my hand or gives me some other form of affection. Ha! Really life ain’t that bad. I just need to change my socks and wash my feet more often. Or something like that.

Jesus, why is it that the women who complain about not having a date in two years or foam at the mouth when a cute guy goes by, why is it when you get around to asking them out, they’re mysteriously unavailable? I suppose that I shouldn’t expect anyone to have any less of a screwy life than I do (I’m the one who has now twice fallen for someone who showed some affection but was actually quite unavailable…). Right? Goodnight, goodbye and better luck next time. What ever happened to asking a girl out and getting a decipherable yes or no. Silly me, that didn’t work in the 80s much less right now.

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Tags: aerobics, dating failures, Joe bustillos short stories, sex and the single brain cell, short stories

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