Why I need to start wearing Under Armour to bars

So some of the most popular search terms over here at RTIF are "Pittsburgh dating scene" and "what is the dating scene in Pittsburgh like?".  First off, let me state that if you are directed here for that, I am truly sorry.  Because I am the furthest thing from having figured that out.  [I mean, if you want to help a sistah out, shoot a tweet to @runtilimfun.] Although I suppose it might have something to do with this post.  Or this.  So, ok, fair, Google Analytics.  

But let's get into the nitty gritty of this post.  I am here to tell you I am never hit on more often than when I am running.  I've never in my life experienced this phenomenon until the two above posts (an update on that situation: after the wave pool invite, I adjusted my route so as to avoid his sidewalk hangout.  No signs of him until a few weeks ago, when I was running past the Starbucks and he saw me from his window seat [sidenote, I know you're curious, and yes, he put on a shirt for this coffeshop outing] and raised a paper cup my way.  Solidified my decision to adjust my normal running path).  And since that encounter, I get hit on even more.  And the real doozy: the amount of come-ons I face is directly proportional to the number of layers I have on.  Here, I've made a chart, Marshall Eriksen-style:

This is simply MIND BOGGLING to me.  Here are some of my recent encounters:

• Scene: Christmas Eve morning, squeezing in a quick run around town before heading to my parents' house.  My attire: everything described here.  Running with earbuds in.  Still able to hear the man leaning out of his pickup truck, saying in a perfect Pittsburghese accent, "hey 'der baby, wanna come dahn to my has and have some supper tahnight?"  This was so brazen I actually stopped and burst out laughing.  Sir, this is a bold attempt on any day, but Christmas eve?  Sure, I don't have any plans.  Let me hop in the bed of your truck and we can head "dahn to your has" right now.  Put on the pierogies for me.  
• Scene: Walking back from the gym (roughly six blocks away from my apartment).  My attire: everything from the previous scene PLUS ugg boots, a winter coat and a scarf.  In short, all that was visible was about 14 inches of under armour-clad leg.  There is a four-way, four lane stop that I have to cross on the way home, which often results in me being waved on by a sympathetic driver.  Like any polite human being, I give the courtesy hand up, slight smile, mouthing "thank you."  As I walked by this 1987 station wagon with wood paneling on the side, performing my normal "trying to be a polite human being" routine, the passenger leaned out of the window and whistled, followed by "oh yea baby you can cross my walk anytime."   Oh yeaaaaa, nothing gets me going like a good crosswalk double entendre.  Whisper it in my ear next time.  
• And of course, there's the run of the mill, beep your horn and just yell "OH YEA" out the window.  Again, the more layers I have on, the more beeps.  It's just science.  

In short, I think people might be on to something with arriving here looking for dating advice in western PA.  The key is clad yourself in spandex and run around.  It's foolproof.