Dear Guy At the Gym Who Can’t Take a Hint,

I met you my first week in Costa Rica at the gym and subsequently made the decision to only do Jillian Michaels DVDs in my apartment. After deciding to take my health a little more seriously, I wanted to try running, and as running outside in Costa Rica would most likely result in a broken ankle due to poor sidewalks/roads, my only option was to go back to the gym. I have since been back to the gym several times. Most of these times are quite enjoyable, however today’s gym time was not, because 4 minutes into my workout, you showed up.

I didn’t see you come in, because my treadmill faces away from the door, but I knew you were there because all of a sudden it smelled like I was in Abercrombie and Fitch retail store. This, in case you weren’t sure, is not a compliment. Not only is your cologne offensive on its own, in general, but in a gym where regardless of what people are doing they are most likely breathing in very deeply, it is nothing short of torturous. Also, as you are not wearing a shirt because you think your abdominal muscles are God’s gift to women, I must deduce that you sprayed your body and not your clothes with whatever musk it is you wear, and therefore it will soon be mixing with your sweat and evolving into something much, much worse.

You announce your presence as you get on the elliptical next to my treadmill, even though I am doing my best to ignore you. I know you can hear FutureSex / Love Sound blaring out of my headphones that I turned up instinctively when your foul-smelling self walked into the gym. When I don’t respond, you do your best to impress me by not warming up and beginning to go as fast as you possibly can. I am not impressed, if you were wondering. And then you keep looking at me, giving me the side eye. Stop it, because this is a gym, not the local staring contest hall. If I were to acknowledge  you, I would say,

“Do I look like someone who wants to talk to you right now?”

Please note the judgmental eyebrow and firetruck red face (thanks, genetics!)

*Note*: If you finish up at the gym, and you still look cute, you are doing it wrong. So don’t judge.

That’s a no. Once you realize that going really fast on the elliptical for 3 minutes is not getting my attention,  you move on to weights. I am not so conceited as to believe that you are only at the gym because I am, and I would not be so sure that it is your goal to impress me if you actually worked out and did a reasonable amount of cardio before trying your next tactic. I can also tell that you are lifting hand weights that are too heavy for you because you keep haphazardly dropping them. Watch your fingers! Or don’t, if that means you will be unable to operate the spraying mechanism on your cologne.

One more thing: You are working out in skateboarding shoes. I know this because I used to rock a sweet pair of Etnies, and also they are clearly flat with no arch support. Perhaps your efforts would be better spent skateboarding down the treacherous streets of Costa Rica where girls will see your shiny abs coming from a half a mile away, and then as you pass by, they’ll turn to each other and ask in confusion, “What was that…smell?”, instead of coming to the gym to impress disgust me.

Most Sincerely,

Girl on the Treadmill