I swear it.
And then (no more than an hour later) all my hopes, dreams, and plans for our quaint summer wedding and brood of beautiful adopted children came crashing to the ground.
For the record – yes, I am being completely overdramatic.
But I did get a fast crush on a man who is arguably too old for me anyway.
I say arguably, because I would totally convince myself that age was just a number if only… he was single.
I suppose I should back up.
On the last day of Pilate’s boot camp, we were forced to watch a video which was more than a little painful for me to view. It was of us walking on the first day of class and the last day of class. The whole point was for us to get a glimpse at how our posture looks to the rest of the world, and to see if that posture improved at all over the two weeks.
What I came to realize very quickly upon watching myself walk however, was how very crooked I am.
Seriously – it was painful to look at. My entire body twists and leans to one side. The instructor said there are usually two reasons for this kind of tilt: Either there has been an ankle injury (I shattered my left ankle and was non-weight baring for what seemed like forever a little over 4 years ago), or a back injury (and we all already know all about the damage I’ve done to my back).
I swear – my klutziness has turned me into Quasimodo. Only worse. Because I'm pretty sure having a very obvious lean to one side is actually worse than just being slumped over. My first words upon watching myself walk were “That’s not hot.”
And it’s true. It’s not even a little hot. I’m surprised I’ve ever gotten any play at all in my life, given how mangled my posture is.
Now, people in my life have remarked on my leaning before (mostly Teeny and the chiropractor), but… I guess I just never had any idea how bad it was.
In watching this video though, all I could think was “How did I not know I do this?!?”
I’m telling you people… it’s pretty bad. If I can get my hands on the footage at some point, I will definitely upload it here. I look ridiculously uneven with the way I lean.
And I have no idea how to fix it. Now, there was a slight improvement from the first day of class to the last, and I can only hope that improvement continues as I get more involved in Pilates, but… This is something I fear needs to be fixed ASAP, lest I become a little old gnarled lady.
So when I was in class last Saturday, I decided that I should give Rolfing a try. Teeny has been trying to talk me into it forever anyway, and she swears it would help to get my ribcage even.
Again, I had no idea my ribcage was actually uneven.
After class though, I walked up to the front desk and inquired about seeing someone for Rolfing. The person Teeny had told me to ask about seeing (solely because she is knock kneed too, so Teeny thought she would be able to help me with some variations of the exercises my knees just don’t allow me to do) was all booked up for quite some time. I was asking for information on the other Rolfers, when a guy who had been in the last class with me came up and started singing the praises of one in particular. So I went ahead and signed up for a first session on my birthday. I figured good posture would be an excellent birthday gift to give myself!
Just then, a tall good looking man walked in the front door. I figured him to be in his late 30’s/early 40’s. He was definitely my type though. It’s possible I swooned a little.
And in that moment, the front desk lately called out his name and told him that the gentleman from class who I had been speaking to had been marketing him like crazy.
Which is when I realized – this was going to be my Rolfer.
This man who really was just far too good looking to be placing his hands anywhere on me.
Yep… I swooned some more.
My very own McDreamy.
He introduced himself before walking into one of the rooms to the side, and I regained my composure before finalizing the details of my session.
As I was finishing up, he walked out again and held the door open for me to leave. I said thanks and ducked past him on the way to my car. Which is when he stopped me, and told me to walk with him the other direction.
I swear to you, at this point I just thought he was being nice. I figured he had a few minutes and wanted to know a little bit about me and why I was going to give Rolfing a try.
So, I answered his questions. He asked about my story, and I gave the abbreviated version of the last year. Upon hearing that I had just had surgery on February 8th, he looked me up and down and said that I was actually looking good, all things considered.
I’m pretty sure I blushed.
Then he opened the door to another area of the studio and instructed me to put my things down in there.
Again, I swear I just thought he was being nice.
He walked me to the back of the room and into a side room with a masseuse table and a big mirror. Then he excused himself for a second and said he would just need to wash his hands.
At this point, I started to wonder what was going on. My session wasn’t for 2 weeks still. I couldn’t figure out why he would need to wash his hands, or why we were in this room.
But then he came back, and I forgot what I had been thinking about entirely.
We proceeded to talk, and as I gave him the details of my battle with endometriosis (as I would to any new person about to start work on my body) it dawned on him that I probably couldn’t have children. He made a mention of that and asked if I had started getting sick as a result of trying to get pregnant, and I explained that no, I had started trying to get pregnant after I had gotten sick. I explained that it had pretty much been now or never.
Then, he mentioned some of the things he would do to work on me.
This was at least 10 minutes into the conversation.
And finally, I realized – he thought I had signed up for a session right then and there.
I started babbling. Trying to vocalize the fact that I wasn’t his next client. All I could come up with was “Wait… aren’t we just talking… I mean, I thought you were just being nice…. Are we Rolfing now?”
He looked at me confused as I stuttered along, and finally I said “I didn’t sign up for a session until April 11th?”
To which he replied “Aren’t you Becky?”
My name is definitely not Becky.
When I explained this, I could tell he was wondering why I had let this go on so long.
Heck, I was wondering the same thing myself. I’m pretty sure I was just so smitten, that I didn’t want to do anything to disrupt my time with this man.
Even though I most certainly was not Becky.
And even though I think (somewhere in the back of my mind) I probably realized the mistake as soon as we got back to the room we were in.
As we were walking out, a whole new flash of humiliation washed over me. The entire encounter was embarrassing, and made even more so by what I figured was a very obvious crush on my part.
Or by the fact that I had also just finished working out. On a Saturday morning. With my hair piled up on top of my head and not an ounce of makeup on my face.
I was a mess. And I knew it.
He asked a few more questions about my situation on the walk back to the main studio room. When he asked if I would be trying again to conceive and I replied “no”, he said “Well…. You can always adopt then, right?” A question which usually makes my skin crawl, because it discounts all the pain of infertility. But in this instance, I smiled brightly and said “Oh yes, that’s the plan! We’re just going to steal lots of babies!”
Yes, I said “steal”. And yes, I also said “we’re”. Both words made me cringe and mentally slap myself across the forehead. I had no idea where they had come from.
This man had turned me into a bumbling idiot.
Finally, just before we got to the door, he asked “So… what are you doing up in Alaska then?” (I happened to be wearing a t-shirt from my college in San Diego, so my status as a long time Alaskan resident was obviously in question). Then he continued “Did you move up here with your husband?’
I wasn’t wearing a ring (obviously), but I had blatantly proclaimed that “we” would be adopting, so I get why he assumed I was married.
And after telling him all about my struggles to conceive last year, and inadvertently referring to my imaginary spouse when the adoption question came up, I then had to admit that I was single.
And again – a look of total confusion flashed across this man’s face.
Thankfully, we were back at the front door of the studio, and he had to go in and collect Becky.
I quickly skittered off to my car and tried to let the red wash out of my face.
I then spent the drive home convincing myself (and the friend I got on the phone immediately) that this was the man I was going to marry.
Until I got home and Googled him (because yes, I Google potential love interests. Regularly.)
Which is when I discovered he was married (probably would have helped if I had thought to check for a ring when he was right in front of me – but that would have required my brain not be in the momentary state of mush that he had put it in).
Married.
And with a new baby.
I don't know why, but my annoyance was increased by the fact that not only was he married - he was married to a fertile woman.
Bastard.
So cute though.
I wish I could say that was the last embarrassing encounter I had with this man, but… that would be a lie.
Because unfortunately, he was there to witness what was not one of my finer moments just a few days later. A moment I'll be sharing with you all here soon.
And his presence again turned my knees to jello.
I’ve got my Rolfing appointment in a week, and I have to admit – I’m more than a little horrified over the prospect now.
I fell in (and out of) love (or lust) in the matter of an hour.
And sadly… I will definitely be seeing this man again.
This man who clearly must think I’m a total nut bar.
Classy class.
