How NOT to Pick Up a Woman at the Gym

I love the gym and spend a lot of time there running, lifting and trying to keep my booty in good shape and my arms strong enough for decking someone if the need arises.  I joined the local YMCA because it's convenient, clean and relatively free from guidos.  Most of the men at the gym are married, super old or really young so I tend to keep to myself, get my workout in, stretch like I'm in Cirque de Soleil, and get out.  I usually work out in shorts and a tank top, without makeup and my hair in a ponytail.  This weekend I made the mistake of wearing a tank that I haven't worn in a while.  It was one of those built in bra racerback tanks which, when combined with a sports bra and boobs that are apparently too large for the top, make for ample cleavage.

I went to the gym this weekend and picked a treadmill next to an old man, hoping that his potential to let out uncontrollable methane bombs would deter creepsters from my bouncing boobs that were pushed up to rest just inches below my chin.  I set my treadmill to "pathetic" (4.3 mph, thanks stress fracture!), cranked up the country tunes on my iPod, and set off on my power walking return-to-run physical therapy program.

As I was swinging my monkey arms to the beat of Toby Keith, a staff member sidled up to me.  He was sporting a spotty beard and wearing tube socks, the latest trend in the 25 and under crowd in suburban New Jersey.  Concerned my breasts were violating a morality clause of the gym that's "rooted in Christian values and dedicated to helping all people grow in spirit, mind and body," I removed one of my disco ball earbuds and turned toward him.

Awesome disco ball earrings

Gym Dude: "I've only seen you here 3 times. You need to come more often."
Me: "Umm, I'm here everyday when I'm not doing physical therapy or resting. I'm getting over a stress fracture."
Gym Dude: "Really? How'd that happen?"
Me: "Running. I have a stress fracture in my femur from running." At this point I realize he's not going to tell me to put on more clothing and is just trying to talk to me.
Gym Dude: "Seriously? How far did you run? How'd that happen?"
Me: "Far and long and fast" ::getting annoyed and wanting to return to my workout::  It's an overuse injury.
Gym Dude: "But like how far? I mean, I look like I probably run more than you and I'm fine."
Me: "That was rude. This is me ignoring you now."  :replaces disco ball ear bud: Note: Dude did not look like he ran more than a half mile ever in his life.  
Gym Dude: Garbled apology and further attempts to talk to me
Me:  "I'm still ignoring you. I'd rather listening to Taylor swift than talk to you...and I hate Taylor Swift."
Gym Dude: "Blah blah" Presumably trying to justify stupid comments
Me:  "Still ignoring you..."

I left the gym a little bit later and he caught up with me.

Gym Dude: "So you're leaving already, huh?"
Me: "Yup.  Well, congrats on figuring out how not to pick up a girl at the gym"
Gym Dude: "Sorry, it's not like at a bar where I can just go up to girl and hit on them."
Me: "Right, it's not, because it's a gym, where people workout"
Gym Dude: "I just meant that it was awesome that you um, run so far and stuff.
Me: "Yeah dude, I leak awesomeness..."