An open letter to the man at the gym...

"Al,"
Thanks for turning the spa back on for me. I could've done it myself, and would have, if only I would have known that it would have prevented having a conversation with you. Notice that there are two spas, Al. Spa #1 had 3 men soaking, Spa #2 had ME. Just ME. And that was just the way I liked it. I'm not selfish--I have no problem sharing, but generally, when you see a person lying back, relaxing, with their eyes closed, it means they don't want to carry on a conversation. When you asked if I'd like for you to turn on the spa again, I said 'yes,' only because you were already up, turning on the other spa. I thought that my "Yes, thank you" would be sufficient conversation, then you would scurry back into the self-dubbed "man-spa," but I was so wrong. Next thing I know, you're practically sidled up next to me on the bench. Al, the spa is HUGE. It's gotta be at least 10x15. WHY, o' WHY did you have to sit right next to me?! So close to me, in fact, that I had to move my hand in fear that it would accidentally touch your leg?! That, Al, is just wrong. And then, THEN, to top it all off, you start to launch compliments at me. Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need to hear from you that I:

-Look like a movie star--who was it? Ah, yes, Bridget Bardot.
-Should be a model.
-Am just as pretty as Cindy Crawford.
-Must have a beautiful mother, because I'm so beautiful.

And you know what? I mentioned, SEVERAL times that I was married, and you still chose to compliment me in icky fashion. Then you referred to my husband as the "old man." I won't even comment on that, except to say that I could have called you "dad" and no one would have even thought anything of it. In closing, since you told me your life story, I can see why your first wife left you. You better keep an eye on this one.

Next time I see you, I'm running the other way,
Stephanie