I figured all the decent men are at the gym these days, so I bought the pinkest leggings I could find and went to "pump up" my charisma

Suddenly, I see HIM.
A mountain of muscle, a stern gaze, bench-pressing a barbell like it's a feather.
I decided to make a grand entrance by sitting on the machine next to him

Me, flirtatiously fixing my hair:
"Oh, hi! Could you tell me how to... um... turn on the 'glutes like walnuts' mode here?"

The Bodybuilder, without even looking back:
"Miss, you're sitting on the outer thigh machine backwards. The only thing that's gonna look like a walnut is your face if you actually try to add weight like that.."

Me, trying to save face:
"Oh, I'm just... testing the technique! It’s an innovative approach!"

The Bodybuilder:
"Sure, sure. Just be careful, the pin on that one tends to jam..."

And then — CLACK! — I realize my legs are locked in the iron grip of the machine.
I can't move forward or back. I'm just sitting there spread-eagled like a crab in a trap!!!!

Me, in a whisper:
"Hey, Mr. Muscles... pssst... help? I think I've merged with the equipment in a moment of pure ecstasy"

The Bodybuilder, with a heavy sigh:
"Ugh, not again. You’re the third one this week. Alright, just relax, I’m gonna have to pry you out of there"

In the end, he got me out, but instead of asking me on a date, he suggested I take up chess — said there’s a much lower risk of injury there.
Oh well, off to find myself a Grandmaster then((((