Compliment
Last week I was swimming at the Y. In between sets I was resting at the wall, and the lifeguard walked over and asked if I had ever swam competitively. He said I had really good form. These are the thoughts that then went through my head.
1. What a nice compliment. I am a good swimmer, aren't I?
2. Has he ever seen competitive swimming before? Because the truth is I'm nowhere near a competitive swimmer. I don't do flip turns, I only breathe on one side, and I'm glacially slow. Michael Phelps I am not.
3. Was he hitting on me? Maybe I should beat him up.
In the end I decided to accept the compliment and swim on. Although later in my workout I again saw him moseying towards my end of the pool while I was again resting on the wall, and I decided to start another lap sooner rather than later to avoid move awkward conversations.
1. What a nice compliment. I am a good swimmer, aren't I?
2. Has he ever seen competitive swimming before? Because the truth is I'm nowhere near a competitive swimmer. I don't do flip turns, I only breathe on one side, and I'm glacially slow. Michael Phelps I am not.
3. Was he hitting on me? Maybe I should beat him up.
In the end I decided to accept the compliment and swim on. Although later in my workout I again saw him moseying towards my end of the pool while I was again resting on the wall, and I decided to start another lap sooner rather than later to avoid move awkward conversations.
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