Note to grayish-whitish-haired guy at gym

Dear Chinless-n-Spineless: Stop staring at me. Please stop staring at me. You’ve seen me how many times now since I started working out at Equinox (sorry, kidz, but I simply cannot and will not divulge the location — paparazzi and all that jazzi, y’know …)? You see me how many mornings every week, doing my thing (oh, now that sounds lovely, doesn’t it?), pass me how many times each session … and STILL you feel the necessity, the impulse, or just the plain ol’ annoyingly freakish desire to stare at me? Just say hello, for Christ’s, Pete’s, God’s, and fuck’s sake. Just say something. The worst that can happen is that I’ll ignore you, but chances are, I’ll say hello back … so let’s just get it over with already so then you can, perhaps, greet me in a similar fashion the next time you see me, the next time you pass me, and not have to do that ridiculous surreptitious corner-of-the-eye ogling garbage that you’ve sometimes resorted to doing. Have the balls (and I know you have ’em, fella, ’cause I see ’em [though thankfully shrouded by your underwear] when your “trainer” is stretching you) to say something. Anything.
Thank you.