I want to be clear up front: I do not frequent the gym. I don’t even infrequent the gym. If the gym were a person, we’d be the kind of estranged acquaintances who wave awkwardly across a crowded room and then both pretend to take a phone call. I have nothing against exercise—I just prefer it in its more theatrical form, like running from my problems or carrying emotional baggage up a metaphorical hill.
But just because I don’t go to the gym doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. No, no. I have absorbed its culture from afar—through Instagram posts, overheard conversations, and the faint scent of protein powder wafting from people in tank tops labeled “Beast Mode.” The gym is a kingdom all its own, governed by a complex code of etiquette that you’re apparently just supposed to know. And because I love helping others navigate chaos I’d never personally subject myself to, here are the unofficial gym rules, decoded by a completely unqualified non-participant.
Rule #1: Don’t Use the Machine You’re Supposed to Use
This seems to be a big one. Apparently, the goal is not to work out on the equipment your body actually needs, but rather to aggressively alternate between devices you don’t understand while sighing loudly. Bonus points if you touch every machine in a ten-foot radius but commit to none. You are not exercising—you are auditioning for the equipment.
Rule #2: The Mirror Is for Flexing, Not Reflecting
No one uses the gym mirror for form correction or spiritual introspection. No. That mirror is there so you can stare at your own delts while pretending not to. It’s like a dating app, but exclusively with yourself. You’re not vain—you’re focused. You’re disciplined. You’re definitely not checking to see if your compression shorts are doing what you paid for them to do. Definitely not.
Rule #3: Water Bottles Must Be the Size of Your Torso
Your hydration game must be intense. A tiny bottle of Dasani? Laughable. You want a jug—preferably one that could double as backup flood protection for your home. If you don’t have to hoist it with both hands and wipe down the handle like a medieval sword, are you even serious about your gains?
Rule #4: You Will Be Judged by Your Gym Outfit
This is a fashion show. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. There are performance leggings that cost more than my first car. There are neon shirts so tight they might legally qualify as a second skin. If you’re not color-coordinated and covered in logos from companies that make supplements or tactical gear, you are not giving gym-core realness.
Rule #5: There’s Always a Screamer
Every gym has one. That guy. The one who lifts like he’s giving birth to the barbell’s evil twin. Every rep is accompanied by a guttural sound that falls somewhere between Hulk transformation and demonic exorcism. I don’t know what the gym’s return policy is on dignity, but he left his at the front desk and it’s long gone.
Rule #6: Don’t Talk to Anyone—But Also, Talk to Everyone
Here’s the social contract: headphones mean “leave me alone,” except when they mean “flirt with me,” unless they mean “I’m better than you.” It’s context-dependent and impossible to decipher. Also, if someone’s mid-squat, that’s the perfect time to strike up a deep conversation about protein sources, your dating life, or your ex-girlfriend’s pitbull. Social cues are a mystery here. Just guess.
Rule #7: There Are Only Three Acceptable Conversations
- How much you can lift.
- What you’re cutting or bulking.
- Complaints about how busy it is today.
Any deviation—say, talking about literature, the state of the world, or your recent existential crisis—is unacceptable and will get you banished to the Planet Fitness reading nook (which I hear doesn’t exist, but should).
Rule #8: If You Didn’t Record It, It Didn’t Happen
You must film your workout. Not for form, improvement, or feedback—no, for content. This is your influencer arc. Tilt the camera. Flex. Lift once. Stop. Edit. Repeat. If your squat doesn’t get 1,000 likes and a discount code for a new pre-workout powder called “RageVenom,” did you even squat at all?
Rule #9: Wipe Down Equipment (If You’re Being Watched)
This rule is conditional. If there is a sign posted nearby and at least one witness within your periphery, you must wipe down the equipment. If no one’s looking, just whisper “sanitized” into the wind and move on. The illusion of cleanliness is the real workout.
Rule #10: Cardio Is for the Weak (Unless It’s You Doing It)
Treadmill people are often judged… unless the treadmill person is wearing a heart-rate monitor, sweating like a saint, and moving faster than gossip in a small town. Then it’s fine. Ellipticals? Jury’s still out. Stairmasters are apparently either elite or ridiculous depending on your quadriceps’ opinion. I don’t make the rules—I just hear them yelled through protein-fueled TikToks.
So why, you ask, do I know all this if I don’t go to the gym?
Because the gym is a reality show I’m not on—but I’m definitely watching. And like any good Bravo series, it has characters. Archetypes. The Bro Who Doesn’t Leg Day. The Girl With Perfect Makeup and No Sweat Glands. The Man Who Yells at Himself in the Mirror. The Couple Who Clearly Had a Fight in the Parking Lot. The Overly Friendly Lurker. And my personal favorite: The Retired Veteran Who Lifts Quietly and Judges Us All With a Single Glance.
I may not lift, but I observe. And I’m telling you: if aliens were to land and only had a gym to learn about human behavior, they’d leave thinking we worship steel, communicate in grunts, and believe Lycra is formalwear.
Would I ever join? Maybe. But only if there’s a robe involved. Or a buffet. Or they rename the machines after Real Housewives.
Until then, I’ll continue my wellness journey with long walks to the fridge and deep, restorative eye-rolls. Because health is holistic. And judging gym-goers from the comfort of my couch while holding a pringle? That’s cardio of the soul.