Boys Behaving Badly

School has been kicking my ass pretty royally lately. Therefore, I haven't been working at the gym meeting new members (and showing them how much they need me) as much as I need to be. I am in the final stretches of the semester however and I seriously cannot wait for the end.

No matter how busy I get with school - nothing comes between me and going to the gym to work out. The only thing that sucks is that I end up having to go to one of the clubs in my hetero-centric (by New York standards that's still pretty freakin gay) area. The gyms are fine but the people who go there are not as fun to look at.

So thankfully for you, my curious reader, I am able to keep track of the sordid happenings, and tonight was no exception. In fact, I was shocked at how the story seemed to be writing itself. I had just popped in to the gym for a nice cardio session, never even considering something as wild as what ended up happening would happen.

I get to the gym, headed to the locker room and to the same locker I always use. There is a latin guy, we're going to call him Jose to make things easy. He was the first of a train of guys that filtered out of the shower/steam area. His locker was near mine and his eyes were on my . . . The thing was, he wasn't shy about it. As per usual, I pretended not to notice. I put my bag away, pull off my jeans and stand there in my underwear digging for my shorts.

Meanwhile, the four other guys who followed Jose out of the shower area are dispersed in the locker room but nobody is getting dressed. I feel like I walked onto a movie set - a cheap 1980s porn set replete with the required overly tan bodies and the one guy with a strange mustache. I recognize 2 of the guys from when I used to frequent this gym. I have never seen either of them work out, EVER, but I have seen them in the locker room at least hundreds of times. They are both overweight middle-aged guys. That's no problem for me, it just helps set the context.

The guys are all standing around looking at each other, I'm putting on my sneakers and Jose is now putting on some light purple boxer shorts. I am dismayed by his poor choice in underwear. Alas, 2 of the other guys are now tucked away in small nook in the lockerroom. They seem like a couple, or like two really friendly guys.

As I am walking out - I see the guy from the other gym who was kissing the other guy. Whoa. I pretty much slowed down to the point where I was emulating the special effects from the Matrix. Why was he way up here at this gym? Does he live up here too? Is he joining in on the locker room fun?

I went upstairs and had a good hour of getting entirely sweaty. On several occasions I saw the Kisser, but he was busy looking in the mirror and lifting up his shirt. The tension between the two of us was obvious and since there was literally nobody else worth paying attention to in the gym we both took turns trying to out-sexy each other while remaining oh so disinterested in the other person.

So . . . I go back to the locker room - it's been an entire hour and the same people are still in the locker room, still in towels, still with grins and semi hard-ons pokin behind the terry cloth. Just for the sake of illustrating how crazy this was, Jose was there and he was still pretending to put on the same pair of boxers.

There was sex in the air - and everybody was breathing it in. I was definitely a cooling effect on the quasi-orgy because my face made it clear that I was somewhat disgusted. If you're going to take a locker room fantasy and make it real - you had damn well better be hot. Geez. The guys went from the water fountain to the shower to the steamroom like they were on a lazy susan. Nobody said a word. Then again, nobody ever does when this is going down.

I peel of my soaking wet shirt, shorts, socks and wrap a towel around my waist. I had no choice but to take a shower. Sad to say that it was an uneventful shower that lasted for no longer than 2 minutes. Back at my locker, Jose was sitting on the bench in such a way that I had to reach over him wearing just my towel. Only after I yanked my bag out of the locker and onto the floor did he move to the side.

By this time, Kisser had come back into the locker room. He was the only person worth paying attention to - but the whole scene was beyond my limit of sketchiness allowance. The gym was closing in less than 10 minutes and there were three guys presumably having an orgy in the steamroom. Part of me wanted to stick around to see the housekeeper break it up - but then I just figured he'd become part of the action - that's how it always happens in gay porn: the housekeeper becomes the sex slave, the gardener is actually a ho, you get the idea.

I wore cute underwear tonight - which is something I purposely do when I go to the gym. I wondered if this was misleading. It was obvious that I took time to select a good pair. Did these guys think I chose them as a signal for "hey, I want some action"? I think Jose answered that affirmatively, because, as I put on my jeans he said,
"That's some buckle you have there," pointing to my belt.
"Yeah, it can be used as a weapon if necessary," I replied.
He laughed as though I was kidding.
"Or a shield too," I added.
Clearly the imagery I was sending his way was one that indicated something along the lines of get the hell away from me you freak, but he wasn't phased. I am standing there in jeans and sneakers, digging for my shirt and he bends down to get a closer look.
"Is that 69 on there?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes and pointed out it was actually the number 63, 1963 because it's a Ben Sherman belt. That invited more questions about who Ben Sherman was and if I knew that the gap often had shirts with 69 on them.

Wow. This was a really pathetic attempt for him to figure me out. He wanted me to say,
"69? Sure, I'll 69, let's go hit the steam room and you can take off your light purple boxers again!"

What bothered me even more was that the Kisser was there. Did he think I wanted to be talking to Jose? I didn't have time to worry about it - I wanted to get away as fast as possible. I took a moment to get a last glimpse at the kisser's really nice arms and headed on up to the street.

This whole scene would have definitely freaked a lot of people out - especially the wives and/or girlfriends of these guys. I can't believe that these are out gay men doing this - there is just no way. There were no standards in mate selection, and there was bad wardrobe choices, both violations of the gay code. So, here we have boys behaving badly - living out their pre-pubescent fantasies from the high school locker room 30 years after the fact.