My Big Gay Gym

This morning I got up a bit early and went to the gym. After being cowed by Louk, a friend and trainer there, and by Frank and others for showing up at the gym every morning to hitch a ride to Apple but not working out, I did it this morning. Just cardio, but I've learned to ramp up when re-starting at the gym.

When I first got there, I saw our friend, James (as in, Sweet Baby James, the beautimous one) he said he'd hug me but he was all sweaty. Where is the downside, I ask you? Anyhow, when I was done with the cardio and got nekkid in the lockerroom with the other minz, there was a line for the shower.

“Guess we'll have to all double up,” I said, smiling.

Before James or any other other guys waiting could speak up—though they were all smiling as well—two shower stalls opened up. James took one, I took the other. Right away, he presses his considerably hot butt against the frosted glass partition and says, “Does this make my ass look fat?”

It was a beautiful moment.

As I was drying off, I looked over at the steam room door and thought, “It'd be nice to take a steam, but there's no time for makin' luuuv” (that was a little joke, friends).

I left the lockeroom, but not before giving James a big hug and smooch. Frank was standing next to Chip, who was on a stationary bike. Chip looked at my t-shirt and said, “'Muir Woods'? Look, Frank, he's the mascot: Stump.”

I love my friends.

No, I really do. And it won't be the promise of better health, a better body, that will get me back to the gym on a regular basis: it's the conviviality of happenstance and good folks.