secret admirer.

I don’t wear my wedding rings at the gym. For practical purposes. It never occurred to me that anyone was paying attention to my hands… looking for a ring… or looking for not-a-ring.

Inevitably, dragging my tired ass into that loud bright building at the same time each morning, I tend to see the same people. Every time. The staff knows me and I know them. We greet each other. But the other members, well, I don’t talk to anyone. I just pop in my earbuds and go. But there is this guy.

Some members walk past me without a glance. Some eyes meet mine and quickly look away. It’s oddly comforting to see others as stranger-shy as I am. But there is this guy.

I never turn off my music at the gym. Not until I’m back in the locker room. It keeps me going, but that’s only part of it. It’s a security measure… a protective barrier. I’m not forced to interact. Much. But there is this guy.

Every time he sees me, I see him. I really see him. He makes eye contact. He smiles. He’s quite beautiful. Hey, I’m married, not dead inside. I can’t help what sends stirring little shockwaves through my body. It just happens. And, God, it feels good.

Last Wednesday, I had an afternoon to myself. No plans, no responsibilities. I took off to read for a couple of hours at the bookshop my family hates to visit. (I understand – I spend far too long there.) Though I was tempted to have another cup of coffee and read longer, I resisted. Guilt set in and I knew it was time to go.

I’ve never hidden my strange little psychoses and paranoia. So when I arrived back home and saw an unexpected package resting against the front door, it should be no surprise that I had a mini panic attack. Clearly, something is wrong with me because knowing I was not expecting any sort of delivery, my mind immediately imagined ridiculous scenarios. It’s a bomb. It’s some sort of poisonous gas that’s going to kill me the moment I open the box. It’s a dead rabbit. It’s a human hand.

I was shaky when I lifted the box and brought it into the house. (Oh, I know, I am a huge contradiction. I thought it was going to kill me but I brought it inside anyway.) Upon laying it by the kitchen sink, I noticed a small logo in the corner. A logo I recognized. The flower shop next door to the gym. I passed it almost every day.

Flowers. Inside, I found a bunch of gorgeous, vibrant gerbera daisies. I lifted them and searched for a card or a note or anything to tell me who sent them. Nothing. I knew they weren’t from my husband. He’s just not that romantic. Flowers for no reason? I laughed for even thinking it. Mom? Sisters? If they wanted to surprise me, they’d probably just send money! But flowers… no.

gerbera daisies.

Assuming the delivery must have been a mistake, I called the florist.

Not a mistake. ‘He wanted to remain anonymous. He paid cash. I don’t even have his name.’

I gave up and put them in water. I made dinner. My family came home. We ate and reviewed homework and the kids went to bed. Only then did my husband ask. ‘What’s with the flowers?’

‘I don’t know.’ I told him. The truth. Conversation over. He probably assumed I bought them for myself.

I had strange dreams that night. Maybe my brain was trying to solve the flower mystery. But that wasn’t going to happen.

I smiled when I glanced at the florist on my way into the gym that morning. I shook my head at my own childish giddiness. Earbuds in. Treadmill rolling. I tried to get those flowers off my mind, but I couldn’t. I didn’t really want to. The mystery felt good.

I stepped off the treadmill and peeked at my phone to change my music. And I crashed into someone. My earbuds fell from my ears. I looked up to apologize, and there was that guy. And his eyes. And his smile. And his hand… holding a beautiful vibrant gerbera daisy.



Posted in response to The Daily Post Daily Prompt: Secret Admirers
~Blogging 101: day 11

© 2015 what sandra thinks

About what sandra thinks

Sandra is a writer, sometimes blogger, poet, artist, emotional disaster. She thinks far too much and sleeps far too little. Sandra lives in the Northeastern U.S. but dreams of an oceanfront home in Italy, but she would settle for a non-oceanfront home in Italy. She loves books, brutal honesty, coffee, and the color black. She hates insincerity, beer, whipped cream, and facebook. And she is uncomfortable talking about herself in the third person.
This entry was posted in bloggingu, fiction, romance, writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

37 Responses to secret admirer.

  1. Tiegan says:

    Wonderful story! I am glad that you put that note at the end to tell us it is a work of fiction…

    Enjoyable read!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Enjoyable romantic read – course in my story, I don’t know what a gym is – but at the end he will hand me a large bar of cadburys fruit and nut 😍

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I was convinced that it was real, so disappointed


  4. I really enjoyed this. It got me hooked right from the beginning, and I was quite relieved when it turned out to be fiction. I’m glad you and your family were spared the next instalment!

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Wandering Soul says:

    [*This is fiction. There is no guy at the gym!]

    And, I went, “Damn!”


  6. itsmyhusbandandme says:

    Well you had me fooled. I couldn’t wait to hear about the candle lit supper.


    Liked by 2 people

  7. arwen1968 says:

    Oh but don’t you wish there was (a guy at the gym)?! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Arlene says:

    THis was a good write. Had me going right to the end. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  9. This was great – you totally fooled me, too!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. That was so much fun to read! Like a lot of other readers, I fully believed it was you! You write really honestly, from the heart of a fictional character, and I loved it. Thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

  11. wwwpalfitness says:

    What’s interesting is two parts. Most people these day look for wedding rings, see how hard someone workout like they are leaving their soul in the gym and in their own zone not willing to come out. Whether it is a man or a woman they figure he/she is not available but interested. I had the sme thing happen with me. My ex hated that I did not wear a ring. I am a beast at the gym and on occasion someone asks me for tips, otherwise I am zoned in and locked and ready. The admirer doing that is a little creepy. Not just that he knew where you lived but he could also have seen you and your husband together. Interesting post. I have glanced over a few as it is a long day thus far for me. Thanks for following me. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • I can see how it could seem a little creepy. I was actually thinking about continuing the story and it crossed my mind that I could go that way. But since I’m such a Romantic, I’m sure I won’t. (Btw… It’s not a true story… so I sort of ignore how likely any of it is… ☺ I agree most people are in their own zone at the gym!)

      Liked by 1 person

      • wwwpalfitness says:

        I am a freak. When I was used to real hard 2 hr workouts with next to no rest I would do free weights with 4-6 exercises all for the same part, then machines with a different body part, then the boxing ring for jab jab punch for 12 minutes 6 each way and then running drills. Body Beach filmed it and based p90x on my workout. Then a year later I got an email from them asking if I wanted the video and saw the sample and was pissed. Because of that I go to tracks and hope nobody is there but for over 20 years I had my own squat rack full bench, literally 2000 pounds of weights. Too much to list. I chose early I did not want to deal with anyone. Getting knocked out of your routine sucks. I sort of figured being you did not go on that it was fiction. I have written some very dark posts, like many others I have been through alot and I hit lots of angles and having published authors first asking if I was OK because they believed it, then said wow you should publish. I want to self publish a couple of exercise tips books and if I get enough deep and dark stuff I may go there. I was asked by 3 authors by email to do funny sex stuff and erotica. they were very surprised plus I rapid fire post and change. 🙂 But have fun writing. I did many in third person, telling a story, me having the good me and the evil one. It is fun

        Liked by 1 person

        • I have been told to publish, too… but I kind of lack the confidence. Since I live in my own imaginary worlds so often, it makes what I write seem like it may not be fiction. I wish – I’d like to script my own life! 🙂

          Liked by 1 person

          • wwwpalfitness says:

            Well you could do an all around book. Something Like Get inside The Mind of what Sandra Thinks and a borderline read me if you dare as I will take you on a roller coaster ride. For me I have my exertips will make up a good 4 books but might not do well. The depression, anger, scared anxiety community is huge and they love it when I wrote something dark. I had 3 bloggers email me to srr if I were OK as I was spot on. So I would like to do something that.Write a couple of ones being the narrator in both romance or mental health. The erotica one I wrote i get a lot of personal responses. I may do several of them. I do have three women that do erotica. I have had them say it wouod not offend them but perhaps would be, so I warn people. Your’e material and a mixtape type may be good enough. On amazon Kindle self publish some books are less than 10 pages

            Liked by 1 person

  12. bookishbyte says:

    Oh my God! I never thought this was a fiction until I read your last line. And part of it is because just yesterday we were talking about how alike we are, and then this story happens. It was like seeing myself, poping in my earbuds, creating a barrier between the world and me, and having two categories for people – those I know which means HAVE to interact; and then there are those I do not know aka the strangers or those I can avoid eye contact with and can continue to ‘not initiate’ conversation.

    Liked by 1 person

    • More and more, I think I shouldn’t have put the “disclaimer” in the post at all! I hope knowing it’s fiction doesn’t ruin it. As I mentioned in other comments, I didn’t want everyone to think I was a cheating wife or anything like that! It is very reality-based… my marital status, the bookshop, the stuff about mom, sisters, kids, husband not being the type to send flowers, avoiding other humans if at all possible… that’s all real.


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