Tuesday, April 28, 2009

The Gym

There are several activities that I don’t actually enjoy doing, but I do them anyway because I enjoy the fact that I do them. These activities, which include drinking tea, watching the news, caring about the world, caring about others, etc., make me feel sophisticated, knowledgeable, lovable, etc. But one activity I really can’t decide if I genuinely enjoy or not, is going to the gym.

There is no doubt that going to the gym leaves me with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Finishing a workout is a testament to my determination to better my body. Yes, the fact that I spend all that time trying to get a man to want me superficially really says something about me. I let other people know that too. “I just got back from an awesome workout at the gym!” This gives them the impression that I am strong, masculine, and hetero. But I must admit that running on a treadmill for 30 minutes and doing some half-assed bench presses aren’t really getting me anywhere. My heart’s just not in it. And it’s not like anybody will ever want me for my looks or believe that I’m straight.

I guess what I’m really there for are the men. Because men that go to the gym are always attractive. They always have smooth, muscular arms. They always have perfectly formed asses. They always have blue eyes. They always have huge dicks. Always. And if they don’t, they are playing racquetball in the back part of the gym where nobody goes anyway.

Sometimes I go to the locker room to change even when I don’t need to just to see some naked boys. This makes me feel somewhat guilty because it’s the equivalent of a man sneaking into the ladies’ locker room. I don’t feel guilty enough to stop. One of these days I’m going to be featured on To Catch a Predator.

But going to the gym is also intimidating. I feel like everybody in the weight room is straight and hostile towards faggots. I feel like even the women at the gym are stronger than I am and could beat me in an arm wrestling match. I feel like everybody in the pool has a better body than me and is judging my obese self which looks like an overstuffed sausage ready to burst out of its casing. I feel like everybody in the locker room knows what I’m really there for, a glimpse of their penis and some merciless ass-pounding. All of this has me wondering if I should leave the gym behind and never look back.

But despite my severe paranoia and self-consciousness, the hope that one day I will have a body that horny men drool over, that one day I will have anonymous sex in the sauna, that one day I will meet my future husband in a racquetball court, gives me reason to keep going back to the gym, whether I really like it or not.

Figure 1: Yes, this is pretty much what it's like.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Killed by Kindness

I'm not used to guys being nice to me. Not because they rarely are but because I don't really know how to react to it. A straight guy would just be like, "Hey! Thanks dude!" But when a guy is nice to me, I think it's rational to assume he is in love with me.

I went to Georgetown this Friday with Tall Blond Alcoholic and Average Brown-Quarter Asian. We went to Five Guys and I got a handful of peanuts to eat while we waited for our food. There was one peanut shell that I couldn't crack because I am a weak and helpless infant. So he took it and cracked it open for me in my hand. Then he started opening all of them for me into my hand.

While I was in his room Saturday night, he invited me to his house for Easter. He was drunk when he said it so I didn't take him seriously. Sunday morning, I got a text saying, "Will you be ready in 45 minutes?" I read it as, "Will you marry me in 45 minutes." I said yes.

Avg Brown Quarter Asian tagged along and clung onto him the entire time. When we got back, I asked him if he has feelings for her. He said no and looked really distraught about it. I told him that he shouldn't worry but he should let her know at some point. I'm hoping I didn't just say that for my own benefit because she is my friend too. He asked me if I had enough to eat.

If all this isn't a blatant profession of love, I don't know what is. At this point, I'm going to expect him to act like a boyfriend. I'm going to want him to ask me out on dates, cuddle with me while we watch Iron Chef together, make out with me wherever and whenever I want. When he doesn't do so, I will feel like he is trying to break my heart. He is ignoring me. He hates me. I am never speaking to him ever again.

Oh wait, here's a text from him. "Wanna get dinner?"
"Sure!" Let's also get married.

I know I'm being ridiculous. This is mostly a joke. You don't have to point that out to me.