The Handsome Brit Saga Continues

Now I've changed my workout routine so that I can run into the Handsome Brit every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I'm at the gym. And I still haven't had the guts to find out if he's gay or straight and if he'd go out to drinks with me.

This was today's interaction:

First of all, I had a brilliant workout this morning. Chest and Back. I pushed up. I pulled down. I did it all. And I was sore at the end.

So when I finish up I get shower and come back into the locker room. And there he is, the Handsome Brit. Looking adorable and clean. We chatted it up a bit. He told me about his busy weekend which was packed. I told him about my weekend, which was delightfully not. I did mention that I met up with some mates for cocktails at Cecconi's.

NOTE: I'm noticing that I'm starting to speak with a bit of a British lilt here, which I made the mistake of doing once when I went in for a job interview. I think it's just a nervous thing, but half way through the interview with these Brits where I would come on board as their writers' assistant, I started saying things like "cheerio." I didn't get the job because they thought I was mocking them, I'm sure.

HB mentions that he went shooting this weekend, which he's starting to get into. So that's when I start to wonder if he is gay or just British. Hopefully both. Then he mentions he went to a few clubs over the weekend. I asked him where and he said he went to The Colony, which might lean towards straight. I know, I'm sixteen years old, I like a guy and I'm trying to figure out which side he butters his bread on. Aren't I past this?

He's just super foxy and I'm being a baby. He has seen me twice without my shirt on and a towel wrapped around myself. Hopefully that's not turning him off.

I also imagine that maybe he has his own blog where he's writing about the Strange Ethnically Ambiguous Mulatto he runs into at the gym from time to time.

"Saw the SEAM today. What an odd duck."

I probably like the drama, but I would like even more to grab a beer somewhere. What's stopping me? I clearly have no problem picking up guys at the gym. Maybe he's the fantasy guy I've never been with yet. He's British, cheeky, blond, and probably pretty funny. He fancies a Pimm's Cup. Has a cute scrunchy expression on his face like Hugh Grant.

I think he's too good for me.

Well, for that reason alone I need to make a move. Okay...tune in on Wednesday. I'm going on and I'm going to report back.

The Handsome Brit Returns!

I had stopped going to my regular gym in the mornings because my favorite, Handsome Brit, had suddenly disappeared. If you remember several posts back, we had this thing going. He came to work out with his trainer on Monday/Wednesday/Friday while I was working out by myself. Then I skipped a few days and by the time I returned, he was GONE! Heartbroken, I kept telling myself. He couldn't bare to see the place where I once squatted, lunged and pressed.

But I told myself, if it was meant to be...if WE were meant to be, then Lover would come back to Me! Another incentive for me to stop going to the other gym was that I ran into my ex's best friend and my former workout partner with my ex's assistant. It was just annoying.

So I started going to the gym near my office, which is actually much nicer in the mornings. There's easy parking and the guys are all hot. They are all STRAIGHT, but I need something to look at in the morning.

Like this morning, for example, there was the hottest guy (blond, model face, thick pouty lips and pecs). I wanted to lick the sweat off of those pecs. He was breakfast, lunch, dinner and my midnight snack. Halleloo! And he was wearing these tight little speedos because he was swimming outside. He kept rubbing himself. Then he started doing stretches in the sauna so I could see his ass. Then he pressed up against the wall and raised his arm over his head so I could see his yummy manicured arm pits...it was porn. This guy knew exactly what he was doing and what he was doing was giving me bone. It was borderline inappropriate, but completely welcomed. And when he left, he smiled at me.

And now that I'm this new assertive me, I looked back. I smiled. I flirted. I followed him out.

Wait. Now I'm thinking that this new assertive me is a stalker. When did I cross over into stalkerland?

Anyway, so before I followed out Speedo guy, I ran into my Handsome Brit. I was coming out of the shower and he walked past me. "Wait, is that...? Could it be? Are we supposed to...FATE! It's fate!"

So I went back to the bathroom (classy), where he was washing his hands and I pretended to run into him randomly again. He is still charming and he still is sweet. I still haven't been able to open my mouth enough to suggest we grab a drink. But he looked better than I remember. Maybe it was the bathroom lighting at the Universal LA Fitness. Maybe it's that I've been on this cleanse and everything looks better to me. Maybe it's just that I haven't been properly laid since my breakup and I had previous morning wood going on from our friend, Speedo Guy.

But I gotta hit that. And soon, before the window closes.

Not so Pollo

Maybe it's because it's Valentine's Day, but I got a little courage this morning at the gym.

I saw the Handsome Brit again this morning. I actually saw him last Wednesday, but I didn't want to admit that I had totally pussed out again. I said hello and smiled shyly, then put my head down and finished my workout.

But this morning was different.

I went to the gym this morning and wasn't really feeling my workout at all. I had a lot to drink on Saturday night for my birthday. Actually, I didn't have that much to drink, but I think I've been drinking so little lately and working out that my tolerance has seriously diminished. So I'm struggling because of the booze and probably because I've been overdoing the gym lately. I'm doing the second half of my workout and I'm really HATING myself. I don't have the energy. I'm doing less pushups and pull ups. I'm thinking of leaving early and just giving up. It didn't feel like a good day.

Then I look up and see Handsome Brit. He turns around and sees me. He smiles and waves. And it wasn't a "bro wave" or a head nod. It might be a British foppish, dandy wave and therefore totally heterosexual. But, let's just for argument's sake and the sake of entertainment, that it was a cute gay wave with the fingers waving. Okay, that might have just been me. I gave a little wink, a dancing finger wave and flashed my pearly whites. I might as well have been wearing mink eyelashes and rhinestones as beauty marks. And even though I didn't say anything in those two seconds, my eyes were saying "Hey, girl!" with a megaphone. It was a gay moment.

And just like that, I had TONS of energy to finish my workout. I couldn't stop smiling and I just killed the rest of my workout. I am so gay. And when I say gay, I don't mean man-loving, I mean dumb. Apologies to the HRC and the PC-police. But since people have called me gay (meaning stupid) over the years, I feel I can at least reclaim it once. I'm a silly bird. Oh, look! I'm using British colloquialisms.

So after I showered and headed out the door to the gym, Handsome Brit was in his towel, about to put his clothes on. I turned down my wave energy and said hello. Then I turned back and asked him his name. We shook hands in a manly fashion. I tried not to look to see how big the bulge was under the towel. Then he asked me how often I come to the gym. I said I'm pretty much there every day (although now I'm just going to the one near my office on Tuesdays and Thursdays). He mentioned that he was there on alternate days: Monday, Wednesday and Fridays. I could read into that. And since I have been reading into it since I left the gym, I won't continue to do so here.

A little more chatting about working out and how he's switching trainers, etc. And then I made my graceful exit before I blurted something silly out like:

"Happy Valentine's Day!"

That would have been embarrassing. But admittedly, totally in character for me.

He's my gym crush. And he's got a handsome face and a cute body. We'll see if it goes anywhere from there. But if he does fancy me, he's giving clear signals. If he's not, then I'm delusional. It wouldn't be the first time.