Did I get the gym mirror flexing duckface selfie right? OK, now that that’s out of the way, let me tell you about this annoying dude at my gym.
There’s this weird dude at my gym who has appointed himself the official giver of unsolicited advice. He’s moderately strong, a little obsessed with good form, but not actually very good at lifting, like he drops the fuck out of every rep when he deadlifts, and carries around a gallon Ziploc bag of chalk to bench 205 lbs then drink a 2 liter of Diet Dr. Pepper. He likes walking around in what I can only assume are intentionally mismatched socks and no shoes.
I leave him be, but today he was I guess watching me bench press, and came over commenting, “wow, you arch your back even more than I do,” as if he is the master of back arching while bench pressing at this particular gym. This isn’t the first time he’s offered his opinion on my form. I just try to act polite when he does.
He continued making various comments on my form or the perceived lack thereof, then finished by offering to spot me if I need it. Gee, thanks guy.
Thankfully, there was one other person around to witness this exchange, and he thoroughly rolled his eyes at that part, confirming that I was not the insane one in this interaction, even though I am in fact wearing goofy camouflage compression tights. I don’t care how I look, they’re my favorite tights, super comfy and keep my legs warm with no bunching. Because I’m a very serious fitness individual, obviously.
And now back to getting my swole on, very seriously indeed.
UPDATE: (The original story was from Sunday.) Last night I was minding my own, not even in the same part of the gym as this dude. As I was walking from a totally different room to the one with the benches, he came and found me, waved at me to take my headphones off, and asked me to spot him on the bench. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only person around who could’ve spotted him, but apparently he had seen I was there earlier and sought me out. Great.
Even though I think this dude is weird, I don’t feel like being a dick to him, so I agreed. Then he gave very specific instructions about how he’s going for max reps and to only help him when he gets to failure. He grabbed his ziploc bag, chalked up, psyched himself up with a few growls of “MEEEEE,” got 5 very loud reps of 205 lbs, and asked for my help on the 6th.
So, there’s that. Hopefully I don’t become his favorite spotter!