I got the deskgirl's name. in The Napkin.

It’s a big deal insofar that it wasn’t a big deal at all. I lift at the dead of the night. Usually between midnight and 2am. Either the deskgirl is there, or the deskboy. Deskboy? Never really thought about what to call him. He’s quiet, but gives me The Nod™ and gives the occasional “hey, man”. That’s fine with me.

Deskgirl a little more outgoing, and probably bored to death. I mean, she’s babysitting a gym, during the dead of the night. Deskboy is content to play on his phone. Deskgirl, however. She rolls up her sleeves, and mops the entire goddamned gym. Toss in racking all the plates, she outworks a lot of the bros.

Respect is an understatement.

So yeah, she does the perfunctory “Hi” and “Have a good day” pleasantries that come with her job. Which is her job.

Sometimes there’s non sequitur banter. I woke up today with my left eye burning. Just my left eye. I made a point of vacuuming my flat prior to leaving for the gym. I’ve discovered in my olde age that I do, in fact, might have allergies of some kind.

So, I walk into the gym with my eyes tearing, and I say “allergies, don’t judge me!” And she replies about how there’s something in the air.

Little banter like that. That’s about it.

Wait, is that smalltalk? HAVE I BEEN TRAINING MY SMALLTALK? … NICE.

(I’m historically retarded at smalltalk.)

So yeah, as I was finishing my session, I was thinking about how I don’t even know her name. I just mentally think of her as Deskgirl. Same way there’s this one woman I think of as Bulgarian Split Squat Girl. And this duo was Bigger Guy And His Smaller Friend. And so many Partial Rep Petes.

So I thought, I should ask her what her name is. She sees my name every time I beep my keytag. So, I did. Just like that. It was profoundly unmonumental.

I remember my first crush. Jeannine. I could not talk to her. Then again, there were feels involved. BUT STILL. These days, even if I have A Case Of The Feels™, I just act like myself. If she’s attracted to me, she’ll dig me for me, not some facade. Tune out the feels and be.

It was a strategic move years ago to acquire platonic female friends.

It’s baffling to read about guys who make it to their forties without female friends. I mean. If you only see women as romantic partners. Or worse, if you only see women as sexual objects. It’s not a surprise these guys can’t form deep meaningful relationships, nor function normally around women.

Look, I’m not exactly a social savant. I’m the first to tell you that my social skills are always a work in progress. Then again, maybe that overcompensation has worked in my favor. I am trying. Regardless of the cause, I’m always trying to read social cues and trust my instincts. Being aware and present in the moment, without knowing I’m active and participating in the moment.

If it feels like she’s just giving perfunctory answers to get rid of you, you’re probably right.

If it feels like she’s excited to tell you this story about Lord of the Rings, because you were wearing a Hobbit shirt, you’re probably right. (Coworker, ha ha.) But, trick is to take things at face value. It means what it means, no more, no less.

I’m not blind to the aloof confidence I seem to be building. I still have the naive wisdom of yore. I just have the Life Experience™ to back it up. The ability to trust myself. You live this long and survive, you know things have a way of working out. Given that I’m fashioning myself as Gandalf The Black, I reckon I like it.

I reckon.

And you might say Gandalf? But you lift. That doesn’t seem like what a black wizard would be doing.

Are you sure?

Sure he had defensive spells, but dude was duel wielding. Do you have any idea how much upper body strength that takes?

More like Gandalf The Swole.

Anyway, I have edged you enough. The deskgirl?

Henceforth she shall be… Kelsey The Deskgirl™.

She has seen me sweaty in a state of half-nakedness. Least I could have is her name.