When you are single, any scenario provides the opportunity to meet a man – including the one where you’re lying on a gym mat crunching your holiday abs.
So there I was making abs of steel out of pudding when I noticed a lovely Frenchy looking guy next to me, somewhat resembling Hollywood actor, Bradley Cooper. Obviously, I check him out. He is doing push ups from that rope contraption that hangs from the wall. Impressive.
What’s not so impressive is that I immediately work a little harder, stretch a little further and linger a little longer. A good looking man provides simple motivation.
It is now time for me to take a swim, so I do, lamenting the fact that a girl’s Speedo, swimming cap and goggles is just the wrong side of athletically attractive. I notice in between my ailing breaststroke, that Frenchy Cooper is still in full view, this time doing pushups while balancing over four gym balls.
I get out the pool like a drenched rat, make my way to the changeroom, hurriedly throw on my clothes over my wet swimsuit and firmly decide that when I walk past Cooper, I will smile, slightly. I attempt that just-stepped-out-of-the-pool breeziness and as I walk past, I give the smallest, most inconspicuous glint of a smile.
Suddenly, he says, “Excuse me.” That’s it! Frenchy Cooper wants to talk to me. This is it…he has been waiting patiently for me through my entire gym session just to say hi. I’m delighted. Until I turn around and notice that my swimming cap is on the floor. Only…it’s not my swimming cap. It’s my panty.
In one single swoop, Frenchy innocently grabs it – not with his fingertips – and passes it on to me. I snatch it from him quickly, saying, “Well, that’s embarrassing!” and frantically stash my panty back in my gym bag where it should have been.
I am mortified. And shall forever remember this day as the day that I met Frenchy Cooper, who bent down and picked my panty off the floor. Not my sexy Victoria’s Secret panty but my hideous, hardworking, not-so-secret granny panty.