I have a confession to make.
I have a mega crush. I’m perfectly comfortable revealing this to you guys because my husband already knows. In fact, it’s a source of great mirth.
He thinks it’s hilarious not because I think another man is an almighty spunk, but because my crush is of the variety that renders me a dithering fool who giggles awkwardly at the mere mention of this person.
You see, this person is my spin instructor.
Let’s face it, spin is so bloody awful that having motivation that has a pair of dimples, and speaks with a sultry Brazillian accent is not such a bad thing. I cannot do the class wearing blinkers, and I must watch him, but if he was to catch my eye I cannot help but look away, after first smiling like Predator in an effort to look nonchalant.
Once I would have found it impossible to fancy a man in lycra but Mister H has paved the way for this infatuation. After months and months of my man parading in lycra onesies I’m now desensitised to the abomination that is cycle wear, and have in fact come to view the male form sheathed in Nancy Ganz as a thing of rare beauty.
Rare, because when the wrong person does it, it is possible to cause bleeding eyes.
Today’s spin class nearly saw me in a sweaty heap on the floor when in a brief moment of ‘English is my second language’ Instructor Dimples said –
Thees next track ees our intercourse track.
I’m not sure if he meant interval, but the very mention of intercourse had me sniggering like a 12 year old, but as I was heaving so badly for air already I think I actually looked like I was choking and the girl next to me broke her spin trance and looked over at me as if she thought I’d be requiring assistance.
I know why the crush exists. It’s because Mister Dimples is the spitting image of my first ever crush – Jean Marc Barr the little dolphin-like hottie in The Big Blue.
One of my all time favorite movies.
I decided that this was ridiculous.
I’m a 37 year old, happily married woman with two children, the only thing for it was to demystify this man and break the spell. I simply had to just speak to him.
I cruised casually over to him after the class, all sweaty and red, and I swear I was going to say, all perky and shit –
Have a great weekend!
But instead, I heard myself come out with –
Did you hear about the Brazillian soccer player who got abducted and decapitated?
All stalkery and shit.
Yep, it’s comforting to know that I haven’t lost my touch.