Having spent the last 12 months single, I made a pact with myself to get fitter by dramatically cutting out sugar and alcohol from my life for the month of January. Having spent the festive week at home with my parents, daily eating the entire contents of a Cadbury’s selection box for breakfast, my risk of diabetes was already sky-high.
A friend I’d met for a coffee suggested I attended a circuit training class with him on Saturday mornings in the local park. Feeling motivated by my new diet, and energised at the prospect of waking up on a Saturday morning without a pounding head and KFC breath, I thought I’d give it a go.
Saturday came; I was up at 9.00am and wandered down. The bitter wind turned my bare hands and knees to ice. I met with a group of girls waiting for the circuit training class too, who all seemed around my age and equally cold. We got chatting and I enquired to the whereabouts of our trainer. They pointed towards a bloke in the distance setting up some cones.
When he finished setting up and came over, my heart slowly rose up into my throat. Oh God. The drop dead gorgeous hunk in a tracksuit was a guy from Grindr. THAT DAMN LOCATION BASED ‘DATING’ APP.
Circuit Trainer Thom lives on the next road up from me (345m away, to be precise), and on many a cold lonely night we’ve engaged in ‘conversation’ via yellow and blue speech bubbles. As he approached, clearly clocking me, he introduced himself to everyone and gave me a cheeky smile with a knowing glint in his eye as he said ‘hello’. I wanted the muddy puddle I was standing in to swallow me up. The mystery and flirtation I had once so perfectly executed via my iPhone was now obsolete, as I stood, slightly heavier than usual, shivering in a field with dirty trainers, old footy shorts and a hoodie. Not the best pulling gear, whatever Triga films try to tell you.
I looked around at the rest of the group, thankful they’d all been oblivious to my internal melt-down. However, of the 3:5 ratio of girls and boys, all the boys appeared to be gay. It all made sense as we ran our warm up laps; never before have I seen so many tongues hanging out and panting – partly down to cardiovascular reasons, partly down to gawping at the man-candy shouting commands.
As I stretched my quads and triceps in a desperate effort to demonstrate my flexibility, it became increasingly obvious that the entire group wanted a private one-on-one with Thom. Hunks are clearly a great motivational tool.
It’s safe to say my first encounter with him did get me hot and sweaty – just not in the way my imagination had always hoped. He had me on all fours (doing planks), on my knees (doing press ups), on my back (doing sit-ups) and bending over (doing bend-over rows). I was horrendously out of breath and in muscular agony; this will have clearly done nothing to convince him of my sexual stamina.
I’ll definitely be going back next week. The workout was great and has helped me feel positive and focused about getting healthier. It’s also given me the perfect excuse to keep off Grindr, so I can avoid fuelling any further embarrassment. The expression on his face while watching me being crippled by a medicine ball during an awkwardly timed squat thrust was bad enough to convince me it’s better left alone.
But to my huge suprise he’s now just added me on Facebook… Is this a sign?