I knew it was all too good to be true.
I have a gym starer. Ugh!
Now as much as men continuously astound and shock me, this guy takes it up a notch.
Staring is in itself a terrible thing and it makes women feel uncomfortable and it's a violation of space and all, which is true - however gym staring is the worst of them all, I think, though I don't have a very expansive being-stared at experience.
Why gym staring especially sucks:
1. For the woman, you are covered with sweat and wearing gym clothes, which in themselves are figure emphasizing. Lots of women wear loose t shirts and track pants to the gym. I don't believe in that school of thought. Think about it - how will you encourage yourself to work out if you can't see what the problem is? And there's lots to see, thanks to the second issue here -
2. The mirrors. Gyms are wall to wall mirrors, presumably so that exercisers can watch themselves and check posture etc. It is also helpful when your trainer is forced to work a simultaneous double shift thanks to someone being on leave, so he can watch you do your jumbo squats while he's helping someone pump iron on the other side of the room. Unfortunately, your starer can see you too, wherever you are.
3. Workouts often involve strange postures and movements which perhaps can be construed to be sensual, if you're sick in the head and need professional help. Then again, that's probably why you're staring at women with no regard to public decency, 'innit?.
Even so, why you'd want to choose to stalk someone and so obviously stare at them in the gym is beyond me. You see me run 3 kilometers, do 200 ab crunches, pump iron, and you still want to piss me off?
So this hasn't reached the stage where you can complain to the authorities (or even my trainer). He hasn't said anything offensive, or anything at all (till today, that is), or made a pass at me, or feel me up - he just stares. I know plenty of men (and the numbers are rising by the day - isn't that scary?) who'd think that I'm just making a big deal out of nothing and that he probably isn't even staring. Well to all of you - fuck off. Never argue with the chick sense. When a creep stares the stare at you, you can feel his eyes upon you like a red ant. However the sad reality of the Gujju gym is that it isn't quite the right time to get my trainer to dump a 30 kg weight on him.
The stares aren't the lechy kinds, but more like (and you must understand that I've been observing him discreetly, the last thing I want is for him to catch me looking at him in one of the mirrors) soulful looks, which are just as pissing off.
Doesn't take much to guess this guy's athletic capabilities since he has enough time to stare. He uses a small room at the side of the cardio workout area where he does some pansy stretches and yoga (You call that a surya namaskar? Ha!). One day I was reaching for a bottle of water and he made a grab for it as well, our fingers brushed against each other and he turned away in embarrassment.
Seriously. Is this where we're at now?
Today (again at the watering hole, it seems like that's his hunting ground) he waited till I was finished talking to another fellow gymmer about how I stumbled on the treadmill because I was thinking about a case today and NOT because I was dizzy or anorexic or anything (Jesus!). When I turned to drink a sip of water, there he was, in full open mouthed glory. I saw him do his thing through 45 minutes of cardio and I slowly lowered my bottle and looked him straight in the eye.
Not so comfy anymore, are you, buddy?
"You are having very good stamina", he mumbled.
"I know." I muttered, in a "Guess what. Dumbbells can fly." tone of voice.
He looked away as if one was flying right at him.
This guy is not "cute", he's not "sweet", he's an ass. I'm just waiting for him to slip up badly, preferably under a thigh cruncher.
I don't get this new breed of obnoxious men. First there's the serial SMS-er and his assholic friend, and now this - men who are educated, earning well, are exposed to society but enter some random woman and BOOM! They become social spastics.
Someone set up a society for them, please! Or at least classify them as a special class and make them walk around with identity cards which they need to produce when involved in social events, like dating, gymming, pubbing and breathing.
Or else we women will have to take matters into our own (well toned) hands.