If Two People Have Sex and No One Remembers, Did it Really Happen?

I have a confession to make, dear readers. Your Ariel may not actually be a spectacularly memorable lay. I'll explain. I'm at the gym, sweating my (figurative) balls off on one of those masochistic stair/treadmill/eliptical thingys, and suddenly my spidey sense tingles. Oh shit. 12 O'clock - a guy I hooked up with a couple months ago and haven't seen or spoken to since - walks into the gym. He then walks over in my direction--I quickly pretend to become enraptured with CNN--and HE GETS ON THE MACHINE RIGHT NEXT TO ME. I look over in disbelief. He casually glances over then programs his workout. So there we are, barely a foot apart, two bodies that had once been spastically entwined, swirling around in sweat and swapping DNA, now calmly climbing imaginary stairs as "Toxic" by Britaney Spears belts out of the gym speakers. What do I do? Do I stare meaningfully at him (and risk flying off the machine) until the synapse fires with recognition? Do I re-introduce myself? Wait - we were both pretty drunk. Maybe he was in a black out? A couple of quick looks in his direction. He looks back, blankly, then watches ESPN. I suddenly realize--HE HAS NO IDEA WHO I AM. A sense of relief fills my soul. This is kinda fun. It's like it never happened. I'm like a born-again virgin! Hey, too bad this doesn't work with boyfriends.