Splash

In an attempt to get into shape, I have started swimming three times a week at the St. Kate's pool. It's been really nice--convenient, reasonable alumni prices, and almost always a lane to myself or shared with one other person.

But that guy, Captain Speedo, the one who tried to woo me with his talk of turds in the pool, is really starting to get on my nerves.

Earlier this week, I was minding my own business, counting laps and letting my mind wander as I fell into that predictable rhythm of swim, breathe, kick, swim, breathe, kick, when all of a sudden--
Splash!

Rudely awakened from my swim trance, I stopped in the middle of the pool and looked to my left. Captain Speedo had friggin splashed me, and was treading water with a big grin on his face. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," I said, reflexively. I found myself treading water too, waiting for him to explain. I thought there was some emergency. I half expected him to say something like, "Sorry to splash you, but we have to evacuate the pool---it was a turd after all." or, "Someone is drowning, quit swimming."

But he said nothing. He just kept treading water with foggy goggles and that silly grin.

Two parts annoyed, one part angry, and a half part flattered, I just nodded and then continued with my swim.

This was on Wednesday. When I went this morning, all lanes were taken except the lane next to the pack of men in Speedos. I took a deep breath and hopped in--I wasn't going to miss my morning swim because of some flirtatious man. I just kept swimming, without stopping, keeping my head underwater as much as possible.

That seemed to work. I guess if I have to be inspired to swim as fast as possible, then this is as good a way as any.

But I do feel a little bit objectified. I mean, I'm in a swimsuit. He doesn't even know my name.

At the very least, he could introduce himself. I mean, I only recognize him by the color of his Speedo.