I thought of expanding a Saturday Side Bar from World Mom’s Blog on How I met my husband.
For a year I had been walking up the street in Ottawa, to a gym, there was a trainer who specialized in rehabilitation, and my back injury had become paralyzing enough that I had to take action, it was so bad I couldn’t sit anymore. The gym was a white-haired, geriatric ward (before you write me hate mail, I used to call them the geriatric unit to their faces, which then they took on as their own nickname). It was all 65-year-old plus men, who were kicked out of the house for the day, by their wives. 10 men would congregate for hours and do nothing but gossip, and bet on sports in the gym, they did no exercising.
I even had a few POG (Perverted Old Guys) who used to stand chatting to me, pretend to have a heart attack, and call me legs, harmless, and very amusing. You also had the crusty old man, who would sit in the weight area and comment on the lack of weights you were using, meanwhile, not lifting a weight themselves. The one great thing about this gym was, besides the geriatric scene, it was relatively empty at 2pm everyday, and for someone who was actually trying really hard to get back a pain-free life, it was perfect.
Inevitably, that time, ended up being popular with a few of us who were in University, and taking early morning classes, including A man named B and an old friend of mine from elementary school. I didn’t pay much attention to what was going on, I had goals of my own and was planning on finishing my year of University and moving out of the country.
My friend from elementary school, was skinny, paid a lot of attention to herself, as well as had rock hard abs. She was sure as hell going to show them off to the geriatric audience whenever possible, she wore very skimpy outfits, and posed in various positions, as well as smiled at herself in the mirror. But it soon became obvious that she was taking it off in one particular man’s presence, let us just call him B. I thought it was humorous, because she had a boyfriend at the time. She then declared loudly that if B asked her out, she would dump her boyfriend in a second. I was not impressed with the statement, I thought her boyfriend deserved better – but who am I to say anything about that.
Not sure what it was, or why I kept going to this amusing little gym when there were better ones around, but I did. One afternoon, I went on the elliptical, put on my headphones, and watched my elementary school friend hop on the one beside me, I said hello, and was a little disappointed that she wanted to talk (sometimes, you just want to zone out!), don’t even know what she was talking about, but then the shirt came off, she wanted to show off her tight stomach, she complained about being too “hot” we were in a basement, it was winter, and it was rare that you could really break into a sweat on the elliptical. I looked around to see if the B man was around, I rolled my eyes when I saw him. He was extremely good-looking, but I figured if he was interested in the stripping action, then I would definitely not like him. He came over, polite, and got on the elliptical beside my friend, she quickly introduced us, but made it obvious that she did not want me to open my mouth, as they started chatting, I put on my ear phones.
I had a training schedule, as well as a heavy school load. I left them to their chatter, and came back the next day. I went on the stairmaster, book in hand, earphones on. B came by, and got on the stairmaster, we began to chat. He was really nice and had a wicked sense of humor, but when my elementary school friend came by, and began to strip, I left, and went on the treadmill. For about a week, the routine was the same, until I came to workout at 8am, and B was at the gym, he got on the machine beside me and cracked a few jokes. We had about an hour of uninterrupted conversation. I didn’t want to be smitten, but I was. I tried to avoid him, thinking that for some reason, like in highschool, if a girl says she likes a boy, you stay away. I was drawn to him, we hung out, doing cardio together everyday for about a month. It was a friendship, but I thought it wouldn’t go anywhere past that. The geriatric unit, or the white-haired gang of retiries, watched us everyday – we became their soap opera (no joke, they had bets about us).
Then B asked me to go for a run with him, he wrote his number and cell on the back of a history journal I had (I still have it, I am sentimental). The next day I called, ready to head out for a run, and we ended up on the phone for 6 hours. Instead of a run, we ended up on a date.
The next time we went to the gym, the white-haired gang, watched and grinned ear to ear. They made sly comments to me, and then finally, congratulated me for ignoring the strip tease that they thought was a little crass.
That childhood friend never spoke to me again. But B ended up, not only being my best friend, but my husband, the father of my child and an incredible partner in life.
Travel Lady with Baby