So there I was at my gym, doing my leg extensions (105 pounds, if you must know. Hey! Rome wasn’t built in a day) and in walks “hunky guy.” It’s the same guy who came in last Thursday to provide some incentive as I ellipticized my fat ass off. Anywho, it’s been driving me crazy because I know him from somewhere but can’t place him. Former co-worker? No, I’d have remembered him. Was it that taekwondo dude I dated in college? Nooo, his voice is different. Ack! It’s driving me nuts.
So I move on to the ab press, trying not to openly gawk. He passes by a few times, in between circuits and gives me a friendly smile and it doesn’t help at all. Who IS this guy?
Then the lady next to me addresses him as if she’s friends with him, “Hey, Paul, how do those Reds look this year?”
He says, “I went down for Opening Day but haven’t been down since.” and suddenly it clicks. I know him because I used to swoon for him at the ballpark. Yes, folks, my workout partner is none other than…(drum roll, please) Paul O’Neill. Eat your heart out, ladies.
(I hope he keeps coming in because my fat ass will be so gone. )