Faces in the crowd

Had my first real workout with my trainer tonight and I've lived to blog about it. (Of course, that doesn't mean I'll be able to haul my ass out of bed tomorrow, but we'll see.)

During the last few minutes of our workout (read: after I'm good and sweaty), I notice a cute blond guy working on a machine not too far away. I'm sure I know him, but have no clue as to how. I'm careful not to make eye contact so I can avoid the embarrassing scene where he remembers me and I'm a babbling idiot.

I mention the mystery guy to my trainer and a few minutes later (I'm trying to concentrate on not killing myself by dropping weights on my chest), my trainer mentions that mystery guy spotted me when he walked by.

Okay, now my mind is reeling: there are so few cuties in my world! Who IS this guy? I systematically run through all the male acquaintences I've met in the past few years; Wrigley Field employees, security guards at my office, a one-time date from a few years ago...hey, he was blond! The more I think about it, it's not him. That guy lived about an hour from the city.

I finished my circuit, re-checked my next appointment with my trainer and left. No use making myself crazy trying to figure out who that guy was. It doesn't really matter. I'm trying to concentrate on improving myself anyway, not picking up some guy in gym shorts.

Sorting my mail as I walked in my door, I noticed nothing unusual: bank statements, ads, an invite to a December college graduation, and a postcard from my doctor reminding me of a check-up.

From the depths of my sweatsoaked mind, suddenly, Tab A folded nicely into Slot B and I remembered who the cute blond guy was...

my gynecologist!