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About a month after moving into my new apartment, and getting to know some of the other tenants in the building, I found out from my neighbour, Rob, that there was a gym in the lower level. It being a Saturday, he informed me that few people used it on that day. So, having got suitably dressed for a work out: a pale blue top, navy blue shorts, white pop socks and Nike trainers (no underwear), I went off to try it.

Stepping inside the room, there was quite a selection of machines, which did God knows what, along with some a pair of parallel bars. ‘Emm, fond memories of an encounter on two just like those, came flooding back.' I didn't quite have the place to myself. There were three men, one of whom was Rob, and a svelte female. Noticing me, Rob limbered over, and said: "So, Carmen, you decided to try it out then?" Still looking around, and not knowing quite where to start, he continues: "I take it this is your first time, in one of these?" ‘Yes,' but I wasn't going to admit that. "I think I'll start with this machine, okay," I tell him. And having sat down on the bench, I take hold of the bar. "Stop!" Rob almost alarmingly exclaims. "What's wrong?" I ask, as I immediately relax my grip on the apparatus. "The weight is set for a man, Carmen, which suggests this is your first time," he indicates. "Yeah, okay, Rob, I'm sorry about that," I tell him. "Can you set it for me, please," I appeal. Going to the back of the machine, Rob moves the pin to a lower setting for me. "Okay, Carmen, try that," he says. Taking hold of the bar, it moves freely. "Thanks, Rob," I extol. ...

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