I Accidentally Wore Matching Outfits With a Stranger at the Gym Three Times in a Row
Three times is a coincidence. Four times is fate. The universe clearly wants us to coordinate our wardrobes.
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Three times is a coincidence. Four times is fate. The universe clearly wants us to coordinate our wardrobes.
Six weeks of synchronized burpees and accidental eye contact later, I'm fully gone for a person I only know as 'back left corner.'
My Bluetooth connected to the gym speakers and blasted my 'Songs That Remind Me of Bench Press Guy' playlist. I am not okay.
What started as casual stalking—I mean, curiosity—turned into a six-month commitment to a spin class I absolutely hate.
Can't focus on your workout because someone cute walked in? Same. Here's the psychology behind gym crushes and how to stop being an idiot about it.
Tired of just making awkward eye contact with your gym crush? Here's exactly how to start a conversation without being weird about it.
When your gym crush isn't going to happen and you need to move on but you still have to see them five days a week. A survival guide.
Why gyms are breeding grounds for crushes. Misattribution of arousal, mere exposure, mirror neurons, and other science that explains your gym crush.
When your gym crush is completely oblivious to your existence and you've built an entire fantasy relationship in your head. A relatable spiral.
Overanalyzing every glance from your gym crush? Here's what the staring probably means, what it definitely doesn't mean, and how to stop spiraling.
Three months of eye contact with my gym crush and zero words exchanged. Is this something or am I losing my mind? Community weighs in.