I Accidentally Wore Matching Outfits With a Stranger at the Gym Three Times in a Row

The first time it happened, I didn't notice. Black leggings, sage green sports bra. Standard gym fit. I'm doing hip thrusts and I look up and there's this guy on the cable machine in black joggers and an almost identical shade of sage green tank top.

Whatever. Coincidence. Sage green was having a moment. Everyone owned sage green.

The second time, I walked in wearing all black with white Nikes. Boring, right? Low effort Monday energy. I scan the room because I always scan the room (don't pretend you don't) and THERE HE IS. All black. White Nikes. Same ones. The exact same ones.

He caught me staring at his shoes. I pretended I was looking at the cable attachment near his feet. Smooth.

The third time is when I started to lose it. Burnt orange. Who wears burnt orange to the gym? ME, apparently, because I'd just bought this cute matching set from Gymshark and wanted to feel like autumn even though it was February. I walked in feeling like a fashion icon.

And then I saw him.

Burnt. Orange. Tank top.

I physically stopped walking. My friend bumped into me and was like "why did you stop" and I whispered "we match again" and she had NO idea what I was talking about because she doesn't track strangers' outfits like a deranged person.

At this point I was convinced the universe was trolling me. I started planning my outfits more carefully. I wore lavender on Wednesday — a BOLD choice. And guess what color he DIDN'T wear? Lavender. He wore grey. Like a normal person. And I felt weirdly disappointed.

The fourth time it happened (yes, there was a fourth time), I was in navy blue and white. He walked in: navy blue and white. I looked at him. He looked at me. And for the first time — the very first time — he smiled.

Not a "hey" smile. More of a "yeah, I noticed too" smile.

I smiled back and immediately looked at the floor because apparently I'm thirteen years old.

That was two weeks ago. We haven't spoken. We've matched outfits twice more since then. Each time there's the smile. Each time I die a little inside.

My friend says I should just go talk to him. "Say something about the matching outfits! It's a perfect icebreaker!" And she's right. It IS a perfect icebreaker. Which is exactly why I will never, ever do it. What if acknowledging the magic breaks the spell?

What if we talk and he's boring? What if I talk and I'M boring? What if he says "oh I didn't notice" and I have to move to a different city?

No. I'd rather live in this beautiful, colorful, coordinated limbo forever.

...Unless he talks to me first. Then I'll absolutely fold in 0.3 seconds.

Update: My friend showed me this article about gym flirting signs and now I'm overanalyzing every single interaction we've ever had. Thanks for nothing.

If anyone else has experienced this very specific brand of unhinged gym behavior, please let me know so I feel less alone. 🧡