Picking Up Girls in the Gym by Klaus Varley

No piece is perfect. Especially this one, written back in my single daze, circa 2002. Among other things, the multiple references to Dean Cain (who? exactly) date the work, and provides further evidence of the author's latent homosexuality that remains latent to this day.

However, as I prepare to write a few words on meeting women on the Internet, this article seemed an appropriate entry into the topic.

Plus, "Picking Up" drew searchers from across the Internet; so much so that we received an email from a nutritional supplement company requesting to buy advertisement space on the page. Of course, we refused. And by "refused," I mean we didn't get that email until WAY too late, and by the time we contacted them, they were no longer interested. -KV


PICKING UP GIRLS IN THE GYM
Klaus Varley

Problem: Picking up Girls in the Gym.
Solution: Look Like Dean Cain (Just Kidding?)

[Note: the numbers denote footnotes, except where they are used to denote numbers.]

Every guy knows the feeling: You go to the gym, spot a hottie in tight fitting attire only seen in risqué night clubs and the show "VIP," and then, and then… nothing. You stared at her while you worked out and maybe shared that "moment" of eye contact, but then she finished her stair-master adventure, grabbed her towel and was out the door. The faint smell of her sweat is all that remained. That, and the emptiness of another opportunity lost. She's gone. Forever.

But it doesn't have to be that way. Do you want to slurp that Met-Rx shake with a cutie in tow? Sure you do. So what's stopping you?

Fear, for one thing. Look around: while you're not the worst looking guy in the gym, you don't hold a candle to the Dean Cain look alike flexing for himself in a mirror in the corner [1]. Why would a girl want to talk to you instead of model-boy over there? Well, for one, he is staring at himself in the mirror, which means one of two things: 1. He's gay (not that there's anything wrong with it, actually there's everything so right about him being gay: It takes him out of competition. Ever hear a girl complain about how "all the good looking guys are gay?" Can you imagine if they weren't? God bless gay men. Seriously.) 2. He's narcissistic. The last thing a girl wants is a guy who pays more attention to himself than to her.

Also, and I'm not saying women aren't attracted to extremely good looking guys, but women - like the rest of us - are often insecure about their bodies. They don't want a man who - by his mere appearance - causes them to question their own physique, spiraling them emotionally downward into a cycle of compulsive diets and obsessive, exhaustive fitness regiments.

No, they don't want Dean Cain, nor is there reason to be bitter at fuckin' prissy-boy Dean Cain look alike in the corner. Girls don't want that guy either. They want you. They just don't know it yet.

But they will.

Through extensive research and exhaustive field studies, we here at The Literary Brothel have developed a near flawless strategies for turning that lost glance into something more than a lost...gla....look. Seriously.

The "Sincere Expert"

Are you into working out but don't know how to turn your physiological science knowledge into a conversation that won't put her to sleep? Share it in the gym! Ironically, those in the best shape often have the least amount of knowledge when it comes to nutrition and exercise.

Approach her after she finishes up her first long set of crunches[2]. Turn to her with genuine interest in kineseology and speak[3]:

You: "How many sets of crunches do you do?"
Spandexy Chick: "Until I'm tired, why?"

Now you've got her asking questions. Flex your expertise in this area[4] and soon she'll be asking you about all sorts of things: your name, phone number, and what you'd like for breakfast in the morning. (ed. note: I'm only leaving this in because it is referenced later. I do not condone its cocky tone.)

The "Dummy"

Opposite of "Sincere Expert." For those of you who visit the gym with a guest pass, you may be pleasantly surprised to find that you don't have to be an expert in concentric movements to wind up in one.

Ask to "work in" (gym-speak for "taking turns") with that sassy dame on a machine that looks like it might have a useful impact on your body if used with repetition and consistency. When she says "sure" (gym-speak for "sure") admit to her that you have no idea how to use the machine [5] and ask for her advice. If she too admits to be an amateur then you'll share a novice chuckle and quickly become (bed) buddies. (ed. note: )

But be warned: wait for her to joke about the strange machines before admitting any ignorance of your own-you don't want her thinking you're a complete idiot if she's an expert [6]. But like the rest of us, she's probably not an expert-and even if she has some knowledge she'll probably appreciate someone who doesn't pretend to be God's gift to...knowing?

The "Clown"

Crack jokes, put her at ease, and quickly become (intimate) friends. "Make her laugh, make her breakfast," said someone who probably scored one or two thousand times than you or me. So what's the problem? The problem is humor: it's tricky.

And risky. Everyone likes to laugh, but senses of humor are like snowflakes: cold and wet. And no two are alike. Prepare yourself for outright rejection and mockery-or even bitter disdain.
"Disdain?" you ask. How can this be, if you're clever witticisms are sincerely meant to entertain?

Here's how: make a joke about your clothes (Do these pants make me look fat?") and she may politely smirk, but deep inside that well sculpted noggin she's thinking about her recent struggles with anorexia and how weight is nothing to kid about. Joke about your masculinity (Do these pants make me look gay?") and she may think you're really gay, or worse, that you are mocking gay people, and, while she doesn't know any gay people she knows that such slander is on par with holocaust jokes (and her best friend IS Jewish). Mock the gym ("Does the shoddy lighting in this place make my pants look gay?") and she may smile, but wonder how you can be so smug while she works two jobs to afford car payments AND a gym membership.

And then, you're screwed. I told you humor was tricky.

Yet there are some women who don't fall for any of these strategies, keeping conversation to a minimum, and moving on with their workout as if they have a purpose in the gym. Yes, I too am disgusted with such pragmatic behavior. No time for human interaction? Casual conversation? Your fellow man? You don't want someone like that, no matter how hot they are, do you?

Depends on how hot? Maybe. If you're Dean Cain[7].

-KV

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[1] If you are that guy, or better looking than that guy, screw you. Or, if you are Dean Cain, first of all, what's up with your career these days? Oh, and SCREW YOU!

[2] This is always a good time to approach due to the "fatigue" factor: she can't move. It's easier for her to talk to you then it is to get up and "go for a drink of water." Yeah, I hate that excuse too.

[3] Woke my roommate up Frooz up just to ask him how to spell "kineseology." He didn't like that so much.
"That's why you were banging on my door? I thought there was a fire."
"No. But thanks man."
The sad thing is, if you know me, you know this story is true.

[4] Example: Gently explain to her that, "the abdominal muscles are like every other muscle in the body, and fat is best removed in anaerobic exercise, not the high repetition of one muscle group. That is, if you care about fat, though you certainly don't need to…" Yes, and try not to say too much. And try not to say the word "fat."

[5] Tag on "but it (the machine) looks very shiny and beneficial" for bonus points, but be careful: humor is tricky. See note 7.

[6] Noticing your ignorance, she may question your reason for being in the gym. Could it be to pick up pretty babies like herself? Or, even sleazier, to research an article you'll write for your pithy website? What a loser.

[7] Yeah, that's really my conclusion. Writing humor doesn't make it any less tricky. Seriously. Try it. Send your best efforts to literarybrothel@gmail.com Then we'll see who's laughing, or who's not laughing, or something...