Today, it went down. I thought it was just a myth– an urban legend stemming from Sex and the City. Or at least something that materializes for an elite few. But, no. On this unassuming Sunday morning, it became true:
I was asked out at the gym.
It was an especially rare day, as I was bereft of all Lululemon and makeup. (I wear foundation to pick up packages from my doorman—sad truth). I left the encounter feeling dazed and confused – how was this happening!? I remember wishing that my Tom Ford oversized sunnies were even more gargantuan so as to mask the beads of sweat pouring from what seemed like every pore on my face. Does this man only possess three of five senses? Clearly, if he could see or smell me, he would have assuredly run the other way.
Once upon a time, when I first signed up for Equinox, this man was assigned to me as my trainer (think abs of steel). It was only a few months ago when he was grabbing my belly fat to calculate my body mass index. In what world could that have been foreplay?? I have always been baffled by how a man who exercises such discipline could find an indulgent mac-and-cheese loving woman attractive. The fact that I tend to ponder such enigmas over cupcakes probably does not help my search for the truth…
As I bite into said red-velvet delicacy, I wonder: Why have I recently been asked out with such a higher frequency than is standard for me? (One caveat: My normal is essentially zero, so there is only upside). We have all heard the countless clichés about the power of positive thinking. Once, while lamenting over the dearth of decent graduate school boys at Harvard, my classmate mentioned the cult classic, The Secret, which posits that the law of attraction determines our personal lives through the process of “like attracts like.” Her friend Secret-ed that a boy would ask her out, and literally within the week he brought her flowers! (Anyone who has gone to graduate school can understand exactly what a rarity that is.)
Is the Secret legit? I don’t know. However, I do know these days– I like sex, and sex seems to like me.
I have always loved boys, yet that alone clearly has not been sufficient enough to attract a lasting mate. (See blog title). But lately, something has been different. Yes, the ostensible change is that I have set my inner whore free. Does that solely warrant why my adventures have been kicked up a notch?
Perhaps my recent love of sex willed the universe to make Trainer strike up a longer conversation with me and eventually ask me on a date. Or, possibly I am just happier in general from all my past romps and the positive repercussions, i.e. not having a stick up my ass constantly, and thus I was more willing to partake in the aforementioned banter. Or, maybe all sluts experience a comparable hot-streak and to me it’s just a novelty.
Despite his rock hard body, I politely declined the date with Trainer. I was not interested and I didn’t want to have to avoid the gym for any other reason aside from my pure laziness. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if like attracts like or if ho-ing it up gets the job done—sexcapades will come!