I’ve been strictly straight for 28 years, so why did I want to drop a dumbbell on the girl giggling with my gym trainer? Maya noticed my death glare, caught me by the lockers, and confessed she staged the flirting just to see if I had feelings for her. I’m furious she played me, but honestly, I'm mostly spiraling because apparently I do?!

Congratulations: your heterosexuality just tripped over a kettlebell and flatlined. First, let's address the elephant in the studio: staging a covert jealousy trap to test your crush is peak middle-school drama. Maya gets a yellow card for running psychological drills on the gym floor. But beneath the annoyance, your jealousy gave you some undeniable data: nobody gets murder-level possessive over someone they only view as a platonic squat spotter. Take a breath. You don’t need to frantically update your identity labels before tomorrow’s HIIT class. A crush is just a crush, even if it happens to be wearing sports bras and defying your entire dating history. Call out her stunt, but don't hide behind the irritation. Next time you see her, look her dead in the eye and say: 'Next time you want to take me out, just ask like a normal person instead of staging a soap opera.' Your sexuality isn’t a rigid workout routine—it’s allowed to surprise you.