Creepers at the Gym
March 7, 2012 10 Comments
I know this has been done. I know this has been said, over and over again. Evidently, it’s my turn to say it:
Dudes: LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE AT THE GYM.
Stop staring. Stop walking up and making stupid comments. Stop your pathetic attempts at flirting.
I don’t care that “guys are always looking” and “that’s just how guys are.”
Nope. Nope nope nope. You’re not. Look around you. See all those other guys, busy lifting weights and running on the treadmills? They’re working out. That’s what you do at the gym. They’re busy building muscle and burning calories. In other words, they’re not looking. They’re not “flirting.”
You’re just being an asshole, and trying to convince me (but mostly yourself) that it’s a perfectly normal and okay thing to do, because everybody does it. They don’t. It’s not.
Mr. Creeper last night was, at first, simply annoying. “Man, ya’ll are working out your whole bodies, ain’t you?” Cue puzzled glances between me and my companions. We were, after all, only doing curls. “No we’re not,” one of my companions replies. “Yes you are,” Mr. Creeper insists, “I was watching you earlier over there on the elliptical.”
Welcome to Creepytown, population you.
Cue us quickly wrapping up our business on the curl machine and making a beeline for the other side of the gym, to the leg machines. After we finished, we stretched, and we headed toward the locker room.
“Hey! Where are ya’ll going?! It’s time to do abs!” Mr. Creepy called out to us.
Normally, I would work out a bit longer while my companions tan, but I wrapped it up early last night.
I don’t mind chatting with regulars, encouraging one another as we push ourselves, or recommending machines.
I do mind, however, complete strangers behaving as if we’re old buddies, making obnoxious comments, and hollering at us as we are Getting The Fuck Away.
For the last time, just stop.