Likewise, for six months while I worked out on Thursdays with Molly, I would watch the gym for Brennan. I wanted to introduce them.
By May of this year, I had almost given up…and then it happened. I think I was holding onto a support beam, doing calf lifts and silently cursing Brennan under my breath because my muscles had nothing left to give. Brenna was probably saying something like, “You want to stop? You can just quit if you don’t want to get stronger – that’s always an option.” And, I was probably saying something like, “Shut up, Brennan-freaky-strong-no-emotions trainer. Just be quiet. 48, 49, 50…” Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Molly walk across the gym floor with Joanna, dragging some sort of PX50K49ergoodbuddy apparatus behind them, guaranteed to make people suffer even more and have even harder muscles.
“Ha.” I thought. “Play it sly, now…don’t lose your chance to introduce them.”
For months I had been getting to know Brennan and Molly and had decided in my head that they would be really great for each other. She was studying to be a registered nurse. He was in a doctoral program and was studying various research projects related to well being of aging adults. This was it.
Trying to act as completely cool and nonchalant as I could, I paused from my counting for a second. “Hey, there’s Molly.”
“Who?” Brennan looked halfheartedly around, frowning (I assume) because I had stopped working.
“MOLLY. You know, my other trainer? That’s her – over there.”
I watched Brennan again halfheartedly acquiesce to the across-the-room identification process. But guess what? When he saw Molly, he did a real-live double take. He looked back at me. “That girl right there – with the dark hair? That’s Molly?”
Then, I saw his eyebrows raise ever so slightly.
“Ha, Brennan-freaky-strong-no-emotions trainer, I TOLD you an introduction might be in order…but noo-o-o-o, you wouldn’t listen to me would you?” Yes, I was having this arguement in my head, completely taking in the feeling of “I told you so” pleasure without saying a word.
“Hey, Molly – come over here!” I yelled at her. “I want you to meet Brennan.” She came over, they got introduced, she left. I waited. We were on our third rep of curls when Brennan said, “Uh…I’m glad I got to meet Molly.”
Just FYI here, that comment was totally out of character for him. “I’m glad I got to meet Molly?” I thought. Oh yeah, he was at least slightly interested.
“Uh, yeah…I told you she doesn’t have a boyfriend, right? She and her boyfriend broke up about six months ago…just in case you’re interested.” I didn’t make eye contact, changed the subject, and feigned severe exhaustion. Okay, I wasn’t making the exhaustion up. I just knew if I hung out too much longer I was going to start pushing. Or begging. Or bribing. “Brennan, you ask her out and I guarantee you’ll like her or I’ll pay you an extra $5 per session, deal?” The anxiety was killing me. I excused myself and hit the showers.
Fast forward to Thursday of that week. Molly reported, nonchalantly, that Brennan had said, “Hey, let’s grab lunch sometime.”
Then Brennan asked the following Tuesday, “Hey, did Molly say anything about me?”
Then they went on a real date. Then Molly cooked a meal for him. Then I quit asking questions and just smiled when I saw them.
My last training session was in the middle of June. I’m not scared to walk in the door any more. I know it might hurt, and I know that I’m not there yet. But I’m not scared to walk in the door, start my workout, finish my workout, or make a time to go back again. And that, for me, is more important than anything else when it comes to shaking my saddlebags.
Flash forward two more months. Molly just e-mailed me to check on how I was doing on my own. I responded with my report, then asked how she was doing, and…was she still dating Brennan?
I’ll just write her direct quote because I’m such a professional journalist: “Brennan and I are still together! He is just an all around fantastic human. : )”
I know, Molly-the-most-difficult-trainer-I’ve-ever-had, I know. And so are you, my trainer friend.
It’s been an hour since I got her e-mail, and I’m still smiling.
P.S. To see how this whole “Shaking the Saddlebags” thingy started…go here.