Locker Room.

Locker Room.

I work with oh, about 700 other people. And of those 700, there are a core group of us who either go running or cycling at lunch. One item of note is that they're all men, with the exception of three of us (two walkers and julia). And the three ladies generally don't happen to exercise at the same time on the same day, thus making the locker room experience quite pleasant, quiet, and solitary, and, ergo, quite unlike the men's room.

Last week, I ran with New Work Boyfriend Who Is Probably Too Fast For Me and headed into the women's locker room. I saw one of the other regulars, let's call her Laura Ann, because that's her real name, sitting reading a book. In her street clothes. In the locker room. Right next to where I wanted to shower. I made a little joke, asking her if she was in here for the peace and quiet, because I promise you, I thought she really wasn't and was instead just waiting for her friend to get there so they could do their little aerobics class or whatever it is. She's all, "yeah."

I hear my running buddy walk into the men's room next door (did I mention that we can hear, albeit somewhat muffled, EVERY WORD THEY SAY) say, "oh yeah, I just ran with Julia [...he trails off/Laura Ann starts talking and ruining it]" and I tried to again jest with Laura Ann about how I like to eavesdrop their conversations. She's all, "[blank stare]".

I try to listen again, to no avail because there are too many voices in the next room, so I ask her what she's reading. She shows me the cover, the very paperback cover, of "Dark Symphony."

I've always had a sense with Laura Ann that we're both sort of on the same wit plane. We seem to get each other. But I, astoundingly, seem to tend a little towards oversharing, and nobody can really get onboard that plane with me. All of this crosses my mind as I process the fact that I'm getting ready to strip down and hit the showers and she's sitting there reading Dark Symphony. I assure myself that it's more of a more-power-to-her thing for not being ashamed of it, because everybody likes the soft-core or sci-fi, don't they? Come to think of it, I'm not sure which of the two genres "Dark Symphony" might be. I, of course, ask. Laura Ann then, THANK ALL THAT IS HOLY, laughs with me, because there's nothing more uncomfortable than being naked with someone who doesn't think you're funny. It's a romance novel, by the way, but she's been known to read both. By the way.

So I finally sort of make the universal gesture for "okay, I'm going to shower now, while you sit here and read Dark Symphony," and quickly take care said showering, and patter back into the main locker area. WHERE LAURA ANN IS STILL SITTING AND READING.

I finally start to feel uncomfortable. Not because of the naked vs. Dark Symphony thing, but because whenever Laura Ann is done with her workout, she'll shower in 2 minutes, quickly slip into her flowy bohemian outfits, flick her hair back, glance in the mirror at her glowing fresh face, shrug as if to say, "all done!" and skip on out of the locker room. I'm pretty sure she doesn't even need deodorant. And now I was going to have to parade all of my potions and salves in front of her while she sat back and relaxed.

Halfway through the potion and salve process, Laura Ann lets out a belly laugh. "They finally found the chef," she explains. The chef, you see, has been missing for days. Days! And they (the gorgeous female protagonist and sexy throbbing-loined male detective) just found him! In the laundry shoot! Wrapped in an ivory linen tablecloth! No, he's dead!

Yes, I asked.

And before long, I finish up and head out. The men's locker room is still bustling mumbledly through the walls, and Laura Ann is still thumbing through Dark Symphony. And at that moment, I absolutely adored my office.