My One Night Stand With A Personal Trainer

By Mahlia Lindquist


Talk about traumatic. I just experienced my first one night stand, and am scarred for life. 

I met my husband at 18 and had never been the type to stray. Turns out he was. Hovering around the grief at the time, however, was curiosity about one night stands.

Almost everyone I know has had one. They had never been my thing, but I figured there must be something to recommend them considering their popularity. When I divorced I was determined to experiment.

My  first attempt was a bust. I met what I intended to be my first anonymous liaison on a flight to San Francisco. However, my intended became a boyfriend I had to ditch when, shortly after meeting, he started making plans for us to live together. ...  In retrospect, I wonder if he was lesbian.

Though I have no judgment about one night stands (unless one of the parties is married to a charming and, admittedly, often sarcastic woman with 2 small girls,) I quickly decided I don’t have the stomach or aptitude for it.

The one thing I thought I did have an aptitude for was staying in shape. Over the years I exercised consistently and was game for all of the crazy fitness trends. Heck, I even wore the thong leotards with shiny pink spandex tights in style around 1990 (or was that just Miami?) Anyway, the point is, exercise was one of my few core competencies and the only thing I have done with any consistency or discipline. 

My current gym, offers “free” private training sessions, which I usually politely decline because, hey, I know what I’m doing. Plus, free means feeling obligated to hire the trainer afterward.

In a weak moment, I said yes to one of the friendlier, persistent and handsome trainers, Alberto. I warned him, “I am absolutely, definitely, no way, no how, ever going to pay for personal training.” I didn’t want to lead him on and hated to waste his time. He promised, "free means free, no pressure, no guilt."

To be sure I made my point, I suggested he think of our session as a one night stand. There would be no expectations, no relationship and no exchange of money for services. Alberto agreed. No strings attached. No way, no how. He wasn't even thinking about it.

The "complimentary" session started with Alberto using plastic pliers to grab fat on my arms, hips and stomach, which he explained was to determine my body mass index and fat to muscle ratio. After weighing me, he busily made several calculations. The process seemed impressively scientific.

Alberto explained the four categories of fitness.  I confidently assumed I’d be in the top super-fit level for my age and Alberto would see why he and I had no future. 

Finally, the verdict was in.

What? I was not the middle-aged physical fitness maven I imagined myself to be. In fact, I was at the bottom level, unhealthy, not fit, repulsive. 

Alberto circled around, observing and taking notes, as he had me do a few squats and planks. “Yep, just as I thought,” he said. “You have weak glutes.” I was confused.  “Glutes? Do you mean there’s something wrong with my ass?”  Then I experienced a momentary glimmer of appreciation for the Brazilian Butt Lift I so unkindly mocked in my last blog post.

Alberto also used words like deficient, unstable, off balance, asymmetric, interior, anterior and various other legit sounding anatomy terms. While I didn’t understand the specifics, the gist of it was this: the fact I work out on my own daily actually made me less fit than if I sat on the couch eating chips all day.  

The gist of it was, I needed Alberto. For ever and ever, starting immediately. Yep, there was no arguing with science. 

Sadly, I was not meant to experience the pleasure or depravity of a one night stand.  

The silver lining was that Alberto was running a special personal training package for just $279.99, good for one day only. Such a deal. 

"Darn," I told him, "my wallet is at home and I have to hustle off to a meeting. “No problem,” Alberto assured me. "You can pay later. Just give me a call."

“Yes, definitely,” I told him.  “I will call later. I promise.”