Hangin' At The Gym With My Boyz

In my ongoing and never-ending quest to lose weight, I’ve actually been showing up at my gym lately. Last night I was there, pedaling my fat ass off on an exercise bike, when they turned on the Yankees game on the TV.

Now my gym is NOT your typical Manhattan variety, filled with Muscle Queens exchanging phone numbers and having sex in the sauna. My gym doesn’t even HAVE a sauna. It is a bare-bones, cheap-as-hell place where gorgeous, working-class type men go to get their fitness on. It is probably the STRAIGHTEST gym in the city – which in my eyes makes it extremely HOT. It’s like I cast my very own porn movie set in a gym, with all the various types of men I find attractive. Actually, a few actual porn guys ARE members of my gym – here are two of them…

Anyway, a small crowd had gathered around the television, watching the Yankees suck ass. A HOT Latino guy who I ALWAYS scope ended up beside me – asking me in his deep, Bronx-accented voice – “You a Yankees fan?”. I told him I was, and we started discussing the team and its various players. Now I might not know exact statistics, but I can definitely hold my own in a conversation about baseball, and I was VERY proud of my gay self for being able to talk intelligently about sports with such a gorgeous straight hunk.

All of a sudden one of the players on the television screen got hit with a pitch – hard. Automatically, I let out the queeniest, clutch-the-pearls GASP – complete with my hands dramatically covering my mouth. This is a HORRIBLE trait I inherited from my mother, who used to gasp in the car every time my father made a sharp turn. This, of course, would make my father angry. Did I mention my parents are divorced?...

Well, that one gasp at the gym was the end of my “straight” conversation with “the boys”. After a few funny looks, the inning ended and I got the hell out of there.