If you recall from my various tales of romance won and lost, I became a newly divorced man at the age of 45. It was quite liberating after nearly twenty years in what turned out to be a relatively boring marriage. My newfound freedom no doubt went to my head a bit and I soon found myself with a 23-year-old girlfriend and a red sports car. I hate to use the phrase 'mid-life crisis', but a more accurate descriptor eludes me at the moment. After a while I began to realize that although Joyce looked hot in the passenger seat with the top down, we really had little in common. In a relatively rare moment of sober thought, I decided to ditch the trophy date and decided to find someone I perhaps had something in common with. Someone I could actually have a decent conversation with. Someone maybe a bit closer to my own age. I did however, decide to keep the red sports car.
It was initially quite a relief relieving myself of Joyce. I often felt more like a father figure to her than a boyfriend. One look at her naked on the bed though usually caused those feelings to pass. But, I really did need to move on and so I did. It's just that I was starting to get lonely.
I offset the loneliness by filling up my time. Keeping busy usually seems to work. I spent more time playing my guitar and hitting the gym. I briefly tried the bar scene, but soon came to my senses. Anything I picked up there I probably didn't want. Hopefully nothing a little penicillin couldn't cure. I did manage to meet a few women at this time, but none that really struck my fancy so to speak.
One day at the gym a new site caught my eye. A very attractive and shapely middle-aged girl was working out on a treadmill. Something about an attractive woman sweating it up in tight exercise clothes that always gets my attention. Not sure what it is. Anyway, I would say she was about 40, I mean 39. Perfect, I thought to myself.
I paused for a moment to take in the view before me. A tight butt in tight clothes was the main focus of my gaze. Sporting a set of headphones across her stylishly cut short blonde locks, you could see her mouth the words to the songs as she jogged along. She seemed completely lost in the rhythms of the music in her head. I was completely lost in the rhythms of her shapely legs pounding the rubber belt on the treadmill.
I gathered my thoughts as I planned my next move. I had to think this through very carefully. Somehow, I felt like Eisenhower planning the invasion of Normandy and in my mind this mission was no less important. After weighing my options carefully, I decided on the old 'help me I'm a dumb guy' routine.
I moseyed up to the treadmill next to hers like John Wayne entering a saloon. She really didn't seem to notice. She just continued her jog apparently too absorbed in her music to notice me. I pondered the forbidding looking machine before me like a scientist examining an alien spaceship. After what seemed like a long eternity, she finally cast a glance my way.
"Excuse me." I started, "But do you know how to work this thing?"
My inquiry seemed to fall on deaf ears.
"Excuse me." I tried again, "Do you know how to work this thing.?"
She lifted one side of the headphones off her head as she continued her jog, never missing a step. I repeated my question for the third time.
"Just get on and hit the red button." She answered with a smile as she continued on her way.
I got on and did what I was told. The cursed machine started to move under my feet.
You have to understand if there is one thing I hate, it's treadmills. I mean, why not just go for a walk? I don't mind working out and I will gladly watch women in tights on treadmills for days on end. But getting on one myself I consider a form of severe torture that should no doubt be banned under the Geneva Convention.
As I continued on my walk to nowhere for what seemed like days, I thought about the lengths I was willing to go through in my attempt to get laid. Aerobic exercise? Jeez...with any luck I'll be getting plenty of aerobic exercise tonight and it won't be on a treadmill.
Finally, after muttering every curse word I knew and then some, she stopped and gracefully dismounted the machine. I took this as my cue to do the same.
As soon as my feet were on firm ground I casually said something about what a great workout that was. She just sort of gave me a funny look and then smiled. I think I then went into some sort of extended diatribe about the benefits of every machine in the place and how healthy it is to exercise and how everyone should do it and God knows what else. She just gave me another funny look and then grinned.
"You really didn't come over here to use the treadmill, did you?" She smiled as she spoke.
"OK, no. But it was a good workout." I said sheepishly.
"You were on it for about three minutes." She informed me.
"Seemed like three days." I replied.
"I take it you don't really care for treadmills?" She observed quite accurately.
"Actually, I was thinking of getting one so I could walk the dog on it in the winter." I replied.
I proceeded to make small talk while gazing into her big blue eyes. She really was quite pretty. Since it was approaching lunch time I figured I would ask her to join me for a bite.