This isn't quite finished but I wanted to get it up here anyways. It still needs an ending, but I hope you find it an amusing story.
He saw here on the squat machine. She was his kind of woman. Her glutes could have been taken from Playboy. Schmuckler was watching her in the mirror as he did his reverse shoulder rolls with the 5 pound weights. She went up and down in rhythm with the metallic slide of the exercise bar on the guided track. When her thighs were parallel to the ground her butt was shaped like a pear. It looked more like a pear than any pear Schmuckler had ever seen before.
He sat down on the bench leaning against the vertical back rest and started to swing his skinny body with each alternated bicep curl. He was lost in her reflection and completely forgot he was working out. His eyes had moved to the woman's teal sports bra that was pulled taught across her spinal ravine. He wanted to be her dashing Indiana Jones and rush across that unstable bridge to get to her hidden treasure. All he lacked was the basic handsome requirement.
The woman straightened her legs and stepped forward to lock the bar back onto the machine. Schmuckler continued to sway his body left and right so that his loose tank top shirt revealed the lack of firm muscle and healthy skin that he believed he still possessed. Intuiting some imaginary social cue, he dropped the green dumbbells to the ground which wasn't louder than an orange's thud on the floor.
“I see you like to do squats,” Schmuckler said running his hand past his sweat band and through the donut of graying hair.
“That's right,” said the girl. She tucked her bangs behind her ears so she could put her earbud headphones in. She was easily half his age.
Headphones. Schmuckler liked when women played hard-to-get, and he was up for a challenge today.
“Tell me your thoughts on this place,” he coolly improvised. He removed his horn rimmed glasses, breathed on them with an open mouth and rubbed them on his sweaty tank top shoulder strap. This obscured his vision even more. The grease on the lenses made her look like she was melting. Am I too hot for ya? He couldn't help himself from chuckling out loud. He didn't listen to a word of her response.
“Looking at you, I can tell that you come here a lot.”
“I can see that you don't,” she said and turned away.
This did not bother him. Throughout his life, he learned not to give up, and he wasn't throwing in the sweaty towel yet. For the other gym-goers who were halfheartedly watching them talk, they could easily tell that the girl was fed up. She was trying to back away from the bald pasty man. But Schmuckler, blind to her cues, kept imagining her undoing her black hair and shaking it loose as she swaggered over to him resting her hands on his shoulders and pulling him into her chest. He let out a sigh as his imagination took him there.
For several minutes, he mildly harassed her around the room staying close as she tried to continue her workout. Although numerous features of the aging man could easily scare off potential women, the girl in the black skin tight shorts was most disgusted by his ceaseless sly yellow grin. Although Schmuckler's youthful body was lost years before, the gentleman held on tight to his self-image. Good for his self-esteem but not so much for his prospectives.
The girl had resorted to turning up the volume on her music player, going to the other side of the gym and even closing her eyes while she worked out. But Schmuckler didn't keep his distance and started to lift some weights for show while biting his lower lip.