Previously in this series: If Carrie Brownstein Were Your Girlfriend.
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, she would always have one stubborn lock of hair that escaped her ponytail. “Let me get that for you,” you would say, and then you would use your calloused hands to slip it back under the elastic, with a curiously delicate touch. “Thanks, man,” Cobie would say. “One of these days I’ll get it right.”
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, she would occasionally speak disparagingly of her thighs. “Cobie,” you would say, “you’re out of your mind. These [you squeeze her adductor muscles] are magnificent.” “You really think so?” she would say doubtfully. “Trust me,” you would say. “Every person, literally EVERY PERSON in this gym has thought about kissing them gently.” “You’re the best, Nicole,” she would say gratefully. “Let’s do some deadlifts.”
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, she would be fixated on your tight hamstrings. “How are your hamstrings so tight when you have such open hips?” she would grunt, using her torso to push your slightly bent leg back into your chest. “Are you rolling these things out at night while you watch TV? You know you need to break up the fascia.” “Ugh, I knowww,” you would say. “But it hurts!” “It’s supposed to, you pussy,” she would say, grinning and preparing to take your leg a little further back. “Okay, deep breath in…big exhale. Good!”
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, you would talk about Crossfit a lot. Neither of you would belong to a box, but you would have done the on-ramp program together for fun the previous summer. “I don’t know,” you would say. “I just think doing Olympic weightlifting moves in a high-speed, competitive environment is dangerous for people who don’t have a solid fitness background and the ability to hold their bodies correctly.” “That’s every fitness program, though,” Cobie would say. “You have to take responsibility for your own form; just because some meathead is shrieking at you that you can do two more reps doesn’t mean you have to.” “I guess you’re right,” you would say. “Damn straight,” she would say.
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, you would have exactly the same fitness level. You would be better at twisting reverse crunches, front squats, and skull-crushers, and she would be better at balance moves, bicep curls and lunges. You would be absolutely neck-and-neck for pull-ups, and the two of you would jokingly recreate Legolas and Gimli’s competition at Helm’s Deep. “ELEVEN,” she would text you. “lol impressive for someone who just woke up from a coma” you would respond, while frantically trying to calculate how you could make it to twelve without rocket boots.
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, you would never have to wait for a man to finish his set. Cobie would start to say “mind if we work in?” and men would immediately fall off the bench and stand patiently to the side until you were done. Once, she idly adjusted her sports bra and a man walked directly into the edge of the squat rack and needed twenty-four stitches. She used her sweat towel to control the bleeding and keep pressure on the wound, while shrugging at you apologetically.
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, she would occasionally look longingly at your bulgy, Flo-Rida-esque abs. “I wish the studio would let me bulk up a bit,” she would say. “I love substantial muscles on women, but APPARENTLY men don’t.” “Men are dummies,” you would say. “I mean, you look perfect to me, but I think you’d look amazing if they let you put on about seven pounds of lean mass.” “THANK YOU,” Cobie would say. “I think so too!”
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, you would tease her occasionally about her obsession with deadlifts. “Why aren’t YOU obsessed with them?” she would say, rolling the barbell over to you. “Squeeze those shoulder blades together, slight bend in the knees…keep the weight grazing against your legs all the way down and all the way back up.” As you finished the move, you would feel her hand on your glutes. “You want that little pelvic thrust at the end,” she said. “That’s the best part…there. Nice.”
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, she would beg you to tag along when she shoots on location. “C’mon, Cobie, I have two kids and a full-time job, I can’t just drop everything and go to Romania for three months. Doesn’t the studio have, like, four dudes following you around to make sure you’re keeping it tight and dropping turkey burgers into your opened mouth every two hours?” “I guess,” Cobie would say. “But by the time I get out of wardrobe and have my nine pounds of high-def makeup removed, I just want a friend to sprawl on the couch with me and watch Agent Carter, you know?” “I guess I could bring the kids to Romania,” you would say.
If Cobie Smulders were your ostensibly platonic gym buddy for whom you have conflicted feelings, she would be a teeny bit jealous when Mallory came to town. “Why are you always weird when Mallory comes to town?” you would say. “Oh…I don’t know. Am I?” she would say vaguely. “I just think sometimes having a third whee..person in our workouts can slow us down, we have such a good rhythm together.” “We really do,” you would say. “Let’s fill in these micro-tears we’ve made in our quads with a whey protein-based recovery beverage.” “Can you make them?” Cobie would say. “Mine always turn out lumpy.”
Tags: beauty, cobie smulders, dreams, feel the burn, fitness
I feel a deep yearning in my heart now, and I DON’T EVEN LIFT, BRO.
Also, I am pleased that this will now show up in “feel the burn” and “fitness.” It fills me with nostalgia for the tag wars of old.
This almost makes me want to exercise. Almost.
It doesn’t make me want to exercise, it just makes me want to see more of Cobie Smulders. (Has anyone made the obvious smolders pun yet?)
Can’t say I understand the drive to hit the gym, but I *do* wish I had a gym/yoga friend for whom I had conflicted feelings. (though, in my case, i would pretty quickly just tell her)
This feels a little cruel. The poor woman put up with NINE SEASONS of unsolicited romantic yearnings from fake friends, yknow?
literally EVERY PERSON, though. Yep. Yeppppppp…
Spotting her from behind, you’d notice her tank top had rolled up a little on her lower back, showing two columns of thick muscles running up both sides of her spinal column. But it’s the tiny beads of sweat that really catch your eye, and you mention her shirt is bunched.
“Oh, thanks dude, if my shirt doesn’t soak that up I get major swamp ass.”
*siiiiigh*
That’s it. I’m done. This is the very apotheosis.
I think about her for, conservatively, a third of Taran Killam’s screen time on SNL.
I have already had a deeply shitty morning at work, but this Thing of Beauty and Joy Forever is soothing my emotional turbulence. And, oddly, making me wish I were allowed to deadlift.
Legolas and Gimli are about as ostensibly platonic as me and Cobie Smulders.
If Cobie Smulders were my OPGB4WIHCF, though, we’d spend a lot more time endlessly trudging on the treadmill because it’s the only exercise that’s boring enough to be tolerable. Any exercise I actually have to pay attention to makes me want to DIE with my desire to be doing LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE. Poor Cobie. Good thing she also has Nicole.
In return for her Mallory-jealousy, you’re maybe a bit more than a little bit jealous when she gym-buddies with ScarJo on the film set, but it’s much more than offset by the fact that you get to hang around while they’re working out and they’re not weirded out by your not even pretending to do anything else but watch.
i am the kid please take me to romania with cobie
If I could be guaranteed Cobie Smulders would be at my gym and would be willing to associate with me, maybe, JUST MAYBE, I would actually go.
Otherwise:
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BRB, using this as fodder for my Hill/Romanova femmeslash…
“That’s the best part…there. Nice.”
Nicole…
NICOLE…
NICOLE!
… naw, that’s about right.
Sent this to my bestie with comment “this could be us but u playin”
Susan and Carol from Friends, guys. All I’m saying. Susan and Carol as hell.
Two things. 1) In college, Cobie Smulders was a friend’s new stepsister and while I heard all about her new awesome, beautiful and kind new stepsister, I never actually met her in person (largely cuz I was trying to ditch the friend for some weird behavior). A bad choice. 2) I love that episode so much because she’s basically wearing what I wear all the time to the gym and she’s ridiculed for not being girly enough — fuck that.
please please please Nicole: keep posting lifting related stuff! You are doing huge work for me normalizing weightlifting in my life!
not that you are like, responsible for keeping me healthy or anything, it’s just… my brain is like: “oh, yeah, ofc I’m going to the gym today. that’s a totally regular thing to do, just like all the cool ladies at the toast are totally strength training all the time but it’s not a big deal it’s just regular so just go”
for real it has been helping
There is a small quiet corps of weightlifting women at my gym (Toast status unknown), and it definitely helps make the weights area more accessible to newcomers. There’s little conversation except to ask about equipment or working in, but very occasionally there will be a quiet “you fucking killed that set” or nod of shared misery. Mostly we’re just there to get it done, and so, it sounds like, are you.
Put the Happiest Woman in the World up in your locker, and see who says anything.
Yes! Usually I feel left out of the comments for not being a librarian but I weightlifting posts I feel more part of anything than ever before. I also just want to go be Nicole and Mallory’s gym buddy so much. Maybe we just need a Toastie gym meet up? Anybody in Edmonton?
Oh, that’s so good to hear!!! I LOVE working out, and for most of my life I either hated it or had zero interest in it, and it is now such a rich and fun part of my life that I love sharing it with others so much.
Yes! Usually I feel left out of the comments for not being a librarian but I weightlifting posts I feel more part of anything than ever before. I also just want to go be Nicole and Mallory's gym buddy so much. Maybe we just need a Toastie gym meet up? Anybody in Edmonton?
I second this sentiment.
I lift, and this is too accurate. Except…there is no conflict.
I lift, and this is too accurate. Except…there is no conflict.
Huh. Apparently my best friend/lifting buddy is actually Cobie Smulders. Who knew?
Good Lord. I need to go do a few deep stretches now.
Someone made a movie out of your dream! Except replace “ostensibly platonic gym buddy” with “personal trainer”! http://www.siff.net/festival-2015/results
Well thats exciting, she looks good in a cut off t-shirt, thats for sure.
I really enjoyed Funny Ha Ha. Though maybe mainly because of Greta Gerwig…
Thanks for the link!
As another lady lifter, I get excited when other women do deadlifts or bench presses, or iso bicep curls, or other “macho” things. The 2 or 3 pound pink and purple weights are so frustrating to me. If that’s the weight that challenges you and leaves you sore and fatigued and such, awesome, everyone starts somewhere, but the people who are scared to go up in weight for fear of bulking up or being too masculine? Very silly, indeed.