About 2 weeks ago I was going for a run, and fine I'll admit it... I had my booty shorts on. But to counter the booty shorts, I had my iPod on, a clear indication not to talk to me. During the second half of my run, as I headed north on the lake toward my apartment, I had a bro encounter that I can't help but document.
Feeling slightly winded and wondering if hailing a cab the rest of the way home would result in a loss of street cred, I found myself running shoulder to shoulder with a bro. He was shirtless and freshly waxed (adhering to bro rule number 1), and proceeded to ramble off a list of nearby gyms. I deciphered this to be the bro way of asking me if I worked out at these locations, and curtly said no to each one. It was probably my severe disinterest and annoyance with this guy that kept him intrigued... after all, the bro doesn't like being ignored. He then introduced himself in typical bro fashion... a fist pound.The bro proceeded his attempt to impress me by telling me about his days as a personal trainer and repeatedly commenting, "You look really fit." (The bro is no longer employed as a trainer and now earns his bank selling flowers wholesale through his family's business.)
During a light jog that gradually turned into a sprint to lose this guy, I began to worry that the bro just might follow me all the way to my apartment. Nearing the end of my course and after declining a ride on his scooter, the bro then asked, "So can I take you for a low fat fro yo sometime?" It was at that moment, politeness took a backseat to my laughter and once able to speak again, I replied, "I cannot believe you actually just called it that right now. That's the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever asked me."Probably feeling rejected and hopefully embarrassed, the bro then made a U-turn, but not without first giving me a fist pound good-bye.
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1 comment:
Funny stuff, moto. I had to check myself against the bro criteria. Think I'm ok.
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