When Opportunity Knocks...

Answer the door. Just as I was feeling the despair of being completely "over" my job and wondering what the hell I'm going to do next and how I'll find another job in this flailing and failing market, opportunity knocked. Opportunity came into my office...to interview me....recruit me....and offer me a job on the spot. Thanks, Opportunity! Great timing!
Opportunity came in the form of a large gay man, who happens to be the VP of Sales and Marketing for another developer. I love gay men. They're perfect for me. They're not trying to sleep with me, or hurt me, or take advantage of me. And now, they offer me jobs. Perhaps they should be my new target market...I'd probably have better relationships. But, I digress.
Opportunity called me today to set up another meeting, which will take place tomorrow, to formally present me with a job offer. This is very exciting. And flattering. And validating. A little scary, because I'll be voluntarily fleeing my "comfort zone". Not something that I'm known to do. I usually stay. Way too long. But, I'm trying to make changes for the better. And this one seems like a win/win. Plus, it's become apparent to me that I'm not very comfortable in my comfort zone right now. I need a change. I'm ready for a change. And I'm really thankful that this change is upon me.

Good Help Is Hard To Find

Apparently, even the men I pay to stick around disappear into thin air! Monday was supposed to be my 4th session with The Punisher. I texted him to confirm our appointment, but didn't get a response. A few hours later, as I was leaving work, I called him to confirm. The recording on the other end of the line informed me that "This number is no longer in service." "Hmmm", I thought to myself, "I guess we're not on for tonight!". So, instead of working out I decided to go shoe shopping. What else is a girl to do? It was a necessity, though...for my sister's wedding...and I found the perfect gold strappy sandals....so, I guess it was meant to be. Que sera, sera.
I was looking forward to talking to my buddy at the gym, the guy who initially toured me around and got me to sign up, to see if I could get some inside scoop on The Punisher's disappearance. I talked with him for about a half hour after I worked out- really sweet guy. Married, of course. Apparently, The Punisher failed to show up to work on Saturday, Sunday and Monday. It seems that this is considered "job abandonment", and can result in immediate termination. Especially when your African American boss told you the week prior, "I'm the Black Hitler and I'm gonna get rid of all you white guys". That's how The Punisher relayed it to me, anyway. So, I told my buddy that I want, well, need, a new trainer. He said he'd have someone call me tomorrow. I asked who would be calling me, since I knew Hitler was The Punisher's boss, as well as the boss of all the trainers, and I really didn't like the vibe I got from him. I don't have any chemistry with Black Hitler. He seems like a real Black asshole if you ask me. And, let's face it, I've already dealt with enough of those.
Truth be told, I'm disappointed The Punisher is gone. I had fun working out with him, and actually looked forward to going to the gym- a first for me. Let's see who's around the corner...

On The Payroll

Just came home from my third session with The Punisher. We spotted each other as I walked into the gym and our smiles lit up. Not sure who was happier to see who. He told me he was in a good mood today. I said, "Yeah, because I'm here." I pointed out that I left my purse in the car so he wouldn't have to carry it around for me, and I'd swear he was actually disappointed.
Today we did back and bis. I was excited to pump up my guns, but I had no idea they were as weak as they are. It was embarrassing.
The Punisher led me from machine to machine, setting me up in the proper positions and assisting me when the weight became too much, which was pretty quickly tonight. He put his hand on my lower back, ensuring I had the proper arch, and our hands touched as he pulled down the bar I couldn't reach and he told me to grab it on the outside of his hands. As I looked up to grab the bar, muscles and tattoos were everywhere. Muscles were bulging, veins were popping, and his green eyes sparkled (What's with all these green eyed guys?), as the sun shone in on us while he counted my reps, beads of sweat covering my face and, as he pointed out, on my lip. Just after I wiped it off, he said he was going to wipe it for me. I knew he wanted to wipe it. "Without a towel?!", I asked, implying how crazy, gross and extremely personal that would have been.... knowing full well that we both would have enjoyed it. "With my shirt", he said. Next time I'll definitely bring in my towel, hand it to him, and tell him it's for when he sees me start to sweat. He'll love it. He went and grabbed a paper towel for me so I could wipe my face, which I then handed to him to hold for me until I needed it again. Apparently, he's not afraid of a little sweat.
The Punisher asked me if anyone told me how pretty I looked today. In between reps and grunts, I said, "No, no one did." I was too tired and ensconsed in tearing apart my muscles at that moment to articulate my actual thought: "Only me, when I looked in the mirror". Too bad. He would have gotten a kick out of that one. Then he told me how pretty I looked...just before he increased the weight and demanded another set out of me.
I whined and bitched and moaned, "I can't, it's too heavy, make it lighter." My protests were useless. This is what I need. Apparently, I inadvertently flashed him a look...not sure which look this was...it wasn't my usual eyeroll...I think it was more of a death stare...I must have channelled it from my sister. He looked at me with those green eyes that are no match for my big brown bombers, no matter how many muscles and tattoos he's sporting, and said, "You don't know me well enough to look at me like that." I told him, "Apparently, I feel I do." We have fun.
We finished up with some torturous ab work, and then sat down to business. We had to go through the motions of sitting at his desk and going over the training packages they offer. Apparently, his boss has taken notice of our freebies. The Punisher and I already discussed that I wasn't going to buy one of their rip off packages...and we worked something out amongst ourselves...Brooklyn/Philly syle. He's going to train me on his personal time for what I felt was a very fair wage. Done deal. He pulled out his rate sheet and circled different packages, prices and enrollment fees, with his boss probably watching from afar. Do people really pay this? I looked at him across the desk as he pretended to explain the different options to me, as I said, "Blah, blah, blah." "What are you going to tell your boss?", I asked, not wanting to cause him any trouble. "I'll tell him you're my girlfriend and I'm training you on the side", he answered without missing a beat. These brick layers are quick! Uh oh. I just laughed it off. I must have told him 5 times since we met last week that I have committment issues (about one thing or another). He's not deterred, the little Pitbull.
With our business settled, he walked me to my car, confirmed our "date" for Saturday which, it has become painfully apparent to me, from his perspective is an "I want to take you out, ply you with drinks and food and make out with you as my new girlfriend" kind of "date", as opposed to my vision of "let's go out, drink, eat, laugh, have fun and, let's face it...most likely make out with my trainer/new BFF, who I like to flirt with and tease, but is not my boyfriend because, even though he would carry my purse, worship the ground I walk on, and maybe be a truly good-hearted, blue-collar sweetheart, certainly he can't be The One for me, as God has not yet created The One for me." So, why bother with all those silly labels? Let's just call it friends. I'm better at friends. When you're friends, you don't end up with another superfluous wedding gown and thousands in lost deposits. Just a slight difference in perspectives. Shouldn't be a problem.
As I was getting ready to leave, he told me his parents are coming into town next week, and invited me to go to dinner with his family! What the hell is going on here? Have I really become that irresitable? I've been known to move too fast in the past, but this pace is alarming even for me. Maybe he's just really friendly despite what appears to be the Grim Reaper on his right forearm? Hmmm, how do I convey that that's cool and sweet, as long as we're hanging out as BFFs, and I'm not on the fast track to my third fiance? Sucking face with him next weekend after a couple of cocktails probably won't be the best course of action. But, as my mother used to sing to me as a little girl, "Que sera, sera, what will be, will be...."

The Punisher

I had my second personal training session with The Pitbull. We (I) planned to do legs, so I decided to get some cardio in first, because I knew I wouldn't have the use of my legs after he worked me out. I told him I'd be there at 1 ish. I called him at 1:20 after I'd "warmed up" on the treadmill. I was sweating bullets and probably a medium shade of purple. He said he was downstairs waiting for me, and thought I wasn't going to show. Little did he know I had the foresight to get some cardio in first. I told him I'd be right down.
He's training me on his break, on his own time, out of the goodness of his Irish Italian Philly cheese steak heart. Or, maybe he's training me because the most beautiful, funniest girl in the gym (who he actually imitated prancing in there for the first time with her gold sandals and Boca facade, which he seemed fearless of and completely unfazed by) informed him that he was her new best friend, and he wants to get into her pants? Who could blame him? I can be pretty irresistable.
In any event, I'm trying to play the BFF card...because I don't know if there's anything more between us...even though I'm looking forward to seeing him, smile when I see his text messages, bought a new gym wardrobe, apply make-up before working out, and have so much fun while he's forcing my muscles beyond their comfort zone of stagnation, that I can't wait until my soreness subsides so he can force me to punish those muscles again. But, he's an uneducated brick layer from Philly, probably broke and likely drives a 10 year old car, and is covered with God knows how many tattoos beyond the two that I can see on his arms. Yet, he carries my purse around the gym for me, without me even asking. That, along with his light green Irish eyes, I notice.
So, I made my way down the swooping staircase of the gym. If I were wearing a wedding gown it would have been that perfect staircase shot. I spotted him sitting there waiting for me, watching me descend in all my sweaty purplish glory. We greeted each other with big smiles, and I told him my arms were still killing me from my workout three days ago...and we had to take it easy on the legs because I needed to be able to walk the next day! It soon became clear that he was blatantly ignoring my request. When he put me on the first machine and my quads were already burning after only a few reps I knew I was in trouble. I implored him, "Go easy on me. It's my first time". I honestly didn't mean to imply any innuendo...not consciously, anyway...but as soon as the words involuntarily came out of my mouth and I realized what I'd said..we both laughed. And through the pain that The Punisher continued to inflict upon me, the laughs, and good time, kept rolling.
He insisted I finish my leg workout by doing lunges across the floor. By this point, my legs felt like overcooked noodles. Limp and wobbley. As he walked backwards, just in front of me, encouraging me, telling me I had only a few steps more to go, he saw me failing and held out his hand. I reached for it, for the stability and support that I needed, and I lunged the rest of the way across the floor. He told me he did lunges yesterday, holding weights in each hand. Bragger. I said, "Yeah, well, look at your body and look at mine". To which he replied, "I am". I chuckled.
Before I had a chance to catch my breath, he demanded I lunge all the way back. Again, I held out my hand for his support. He kinda laughed. I could tell he wasn't expecting me to reach for him again...not yet, anyway. But, he obliged. And I lunged my way all the way back across the floor.
With my legs sufficiently noodle-ized, it was time to work on abs. We did machines and then he led me over to the mats. I told him about an ab exercise that I used to like to do, but he had his own ideas. He teased and tortured me, raising the bar with each rep. Next position...the grand finale. He was holding my towel, as he had me supporting my weight on my forearms and my toes, face down with my legs stretched out behind me, engaging my core, while he laid there beside me, timing me....watching me sweat and struggle. I asked him to at least tell me a story while we were there! ...something, anything, to distract me, help me pass the time. We ended up talking about where we're going on what he seems to like to call our "date" next weekend.
The sweat was beading up on my face....so I asked him to wipe it for me. Even I laughed as I made this request. He laughed at my overt comical silliness, but obligingly patted my forehead and cheek and asked, "Better?". I turned to him with beads of sweat about to drip off my upper lip and implored, "My lip!", and The Punisher wiped the sweat from my upper lip. I thanked him as I tried to squeeze out a few more seconds in that torturous position.
I assume he must get a kick out of me, and senses that I have a good heart...and I'm fun...or funny, anyway...amusing, entertaining, to say the least...that must be it, because even I'm not sure I'm hot enough to get away with these antics. How could I be, when the guy knows I'm comprised of one third fat?!? I still think that machine was broken. As was his scale. But, I think we just have a connection....like Shrek and Fiona, Beauty and the Beast, Cheese steaks and Pizza Bagels. We're simpatico.
As quickly as it started, the workout was over. As torturous as it was, I didn't want it to end. And I hate exercise. It was his turn to work out. I jokingly asked if he wanted me to spot him and count his reps...but he told me he had a friend coming in to work out with him. Then he walked me all the way out to my car. He sure is the personal trainer with the personal touch. And, yes, I'm sure he'd like to give me a personal touch. But, we're both playing it cool for now...so, I stuck out my hand and said, "Thank you, my friend". Because I don't think I like him like that. Although I think I might.