I have a crush on my kickboxing instructor.
Physically, he’s exactly my type – tall, blonde, gangly, kind of goofy looking. Just the kind of man I’ve been falling for since I was 14. He’s crazy intense during these classes, getting up in our faces and urging us to push harder, kick higher, run faster than we thought we could. Since I’m just a wee bit competitive, I turn into a kickboxing demon when faced with this kind of talk. I’m hitting harder than anyone around me, kicking higher, slamming the bag with my gloves as if my life depended upon it. I’m the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, East Des Moines Version. During my first class back in January, as he was making the rounds among the new students, he stopped at my punching bag to watch me going at it. “You’ve done this before,” he said, with some admiration in his voice. “Oh, yeah,” I replied, “this isn’t my first rodeo.” He smiled and moved on.
I would imagine I am a vision of loveliness on these Tuesday and Thursday nights, sweating my way through a workout with my hair sticking every which way out of my ponytail. I’ve seen my face in my rear-view mirror as I’m driving home after class, an exact replica of Bob the Tomato from Veggie Tales. I can’t image why every man in that class doesn’t fall at my feet.
I’m not really all that wrapped up in my crush on the kickboxing instructor. I doubt love will blossom over our sweaty hand wraps. And it’s most likely he’s married with three kids – you don’t reach this point in life without realizing this is the case for most guys my age. And the fact that my classes are held in the gym of a Baptist church only increases the likelihood of his being a married man.
But still – it’s kind of nice to think there’s a man out there who watches and appreciates my efforts, who finds something to admire in me. It’s easy to feel like I’m just another single girl on a shelf, waiting for someone to wander by and choose me. The thought that there’s something a tall, gangly someone might admire about me is an intoxicating one – even if it’s just my backfist form. Which, I have to say, is pretty damn impressive. 🙂