Continuing Adventures with Terry

I sit there thinking it's all in my head. I'm making a big deal out of nothing. I'm just making this thing an issue because my life is as plain as a blank piece of paper. Terry bothered me once and he'll never bother me again. He's a smudge. But a smudge on a blank piece of paper calls attention to itself.
I'm in the gym and doing my frantic workout. I don't see Terry, but still I'm hurrying. His ghost haunts me. Then I see him, the ghost materializes, he passes by. He's talking to someone else. Good. I move on. Keep moving. Keep moving. I'm in the corner working on my shoulders. He approaches. It's earlier in the day than I'm used to going to the gym, so there aren't many people in the gym. There is absolutely no one between me and him. I write fake text messages that I'll never send in between sets to keep busy.
Why does Terry keep coming around?
Keep up the good work.
Everything will work out fine.
I must admit, I want to know what's up with him, with his gray hair and mustache, with his pot belly, with his black shoes and pants and white socks. He looks like he would be at home playing Santa Claus. Do you have a wife, Terry? Do you have kids? What's your home like? What's your favorite movie? How many times has your heart been broken?
I'm still thinking of things I can tell him if he talks to me, mean things. Things that will make him never want to bother me again. I turn away and look out the window.
He leaves. I continue. I move on to a new machine. Terry has disappeared. I move on to another machine. Terry reappears. He's approaching. He reaches out his hand for me to shake. I oblige.
"That's not a shake," he tells me and makes me shake his hand again.
I laugh nervously.
I can't use any of my lines. I can't be mean to him. It's a weird personal quirk, I tend to only be able to be mean to people who mean something to me. Only those I love are witness to the true depths of my evil.
"So, do you want to bulk up?" he asks.
I thought we had this conversation.
"No," I say and laugh nervously.
"You're sure?" he asks.
I still know that not wanting to bulk up is like poison to him.
"Yes," I say. I mean, I wouldn't mind bulking up, but it's not my main goal in life.
"I saw you working out shoulders before," he says.
I laugh nervously.
"You know, you could look like Clark Kent. You could be Superman," Terry tells me.
Really, Terry? I'm sure you use the same line on every small, nerdy guy with glasses.
I laugh nervously.
"That doesn't really interest me," I reply.
"Are you sure?" he says, surprised.
I laugh nervously.
"I'm going to get you to do a fitness assessment," he says.
He must be trying to use the power of positive thinking. Is he reading Tony Robbins? He must be trying to manifest.
I laugh nervously.
Finally, he walks off. I can go back to my music. I need the soothing tones of Jenny Lewis, Rilo Kiley, She & Him. A moment. Oh no, he's coming back.
"Wait a minute. Are you afraid of success?" he asks me.
What is this? Is this part of your power of positive thinking Tony Robbins thing? Is this your secret weapon that's going to break me down, make me call you and schedule a fitness assessment?
Well, Terry, yes. I'm afraid of success. I'm also afraid of failure. I don't like to take chances. I box myself off so I can avoid anything and everything. I like to play it safe. I don't like the unknown. My life is sectioned off. I keep myself back from opportunities. I find it easier to say no. I'm scared of the world. Do you really want to go into this now? Do you want to know my fears? Do you want to know about my childhood?
He asked me if I was afraid of success.
"No," I answer.
"Okay. Just wanted to check," Terry says and walks off.