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I remember that day vividly. The day I met Bertrand. It was December 19th, 1997. The store sent us home early that day due to the approaching blizzard. I had already made my new year's resolutions, which included getting in tip-top shape and finding a boyfriend. So, I hurried to the gym to try to jumpstart a new workout routine, thinking I would get my new good habits started and still get home before the storm hit.
The place was packed with muscle. I supposed all those beefy guys were pumping up for a Friday night on the town. I remember thinking they were all too stupid to predict that the bars would be empty with the inclement weather. Maybe they'd have to call up old girl friends to get off. I hated my hetero oppressors passionately and yet I would have traded bodies with them all in a heart beat.
About 15 minutes into my leg workout (I was so determined to achieve buns of steel like those I had seen on a young man I fitted for a new suit the week before), the place cleared out. I did a few more squats and then went to the front desk. "Is the gym closing early?" I asked. The smart-ass teenage girl looked blankly back at me. "Why would we close early?" "Oh, okay," I said, heading back to complete my workout, thinking, "A simple 'no' would suffice, bitch." A few minutes later I tweaked my knee and realized maybe I needed to take it easy. I decided to hit the sauna for a bit and massage out the pain. The locker room was like a ghost town except for one older gentleman who was struggling to remove a knee brace. "You, too, huh?" I smiled at him. "Oh, this? Yes, it's an old injury from my youth. Can you believe I used to play soccer professionally?" he said, smiling gently. I smiled back. "Can I help you?" I asked. "Oh, I'll be fine, thank you. It just takes me a little longer to get undressed than it used to!" he said, letting out a jolly laugh. "What a nice old grandpa," I thought to myself and grabbed my towel to hit the sauna.
When I opened the door I was greeted with the expectant smiles of seven or eight of those muscle guys who had been intimidating me on the gym floor ten minutes earlier. "So this is where they all went!" I thought. They were all oiled up, sweat dripping off their huge heaving chests. Their smiles vanished when they laid eyes on me. "Maybe they were expecting one of their other muscle buddies," I thought to myself. As I was about to sit down on the bench at the end one of them growled at me, "You can't sit there." "Oh, sorry," I said meekly, thinking "Fuck you, asshole! You don't own this place!"
There was so much broad-shouldered brawn in there I had no place to sit. So I stood awkwardly against the wall, staring down at my feet. I hated them all, but I would have blown any one of them and swallowed every drop of sperm if he'd ordered me to. The only thing I hated about being gay was my own self-hatred, taught to me in grade school by straight bullies. Why was I so attracted to them when they were all so mean to me?
The door opened slowly and I felt a cool breeze on my feet from the locker room air. The expectant smiles on the muscle studs returned, brighter this time. "Hey, Bertie!" a beefy, bearded hunk from my wet dreams beamed at the grandpa I had chatted with a few moments before. "Hey, Bert!" They all bellowed as if they were on the set of "Cheers." "Well hello, my good gentlemen," the charming old man sang back at them. I hadn't noticed how fey and "musical" he was before. I wondered if he might in fact be a queen like me.
The grandpa hobbled over to the empty bench I had wanted to sit on. One of the meatheads with a killer ass jumped off his perch to help the older man up on the bench. "Let me help you, Sir," he said almost lovingly to the older gent. I thought, "Wow, that was nice of that guy. Maybe he's the one non-asshole among them."
"That's very kind of you, Billy," the old man said as he patted the young stud on the bum and took his seat. "Wow!" I thought. "That's pretty fresh! Maybe he's a dirty old man." I felt bad for thinking they were being mean by denying me the prime bench seat. They were all just looking out for this gay grandpa. Maybe they weren't such homophobes after all.
"Want some steam, Bernie?" another Adonis asked him, jumping toward the bucket of water near the coals. He was so freakishly hot, with biceps wider than my legs and pecs you could sleep on. "Ooooo, that would be nice, Johnny," the old man cooed, loosening his towel and getting comfortable.
The place was packed with muscle. I supposed all those beefy guys were pumping up for a Friday night on the town. I remember thinking they were all too stupid to predict that the bars would be empty with the inclement weather. Maybe they'd have to call up old girl friends to get off. I hated my hetero oppressors passionately and yet I would have traded bodies with them all in a heart beat.
About 15 minutes into my leg workout (I was so determined to achieve buns of steel like those I had seen on a young man I fitted for a new suit the week before), the place cleared out. I did a few more squats and then went to the front desk. "Is the gym closing early?" I asked. The smart-ass teenage girl looked blankly back at me. "Why would we close early?" "Oh, okay," I said, heading back to complete my workout, thinking, "A simple 'no' would suffice, bitch." A few minutes later I tweaked my knee and realized maybe I needed to take it easy. I decided to hit the sauna for a bit and massage out the pain. The locker room was like a ghost town except for one older gentleman who was struggling to remove a knee brace. "You, too, huh?" I smiled at him. "Oh, this? Yes, it's an old injury from my youth. Can you believe I used to play soccer professionally?" he said, smiling gently. I smiled back. "Can I help you?" I asked. "Oh, I'll be fine, thank you. It just takes me a little longer to get undressed than it used to!" he said, letting out a jolly laugh. "What a nice old grandpa," I thought to myself and grabbed my towel to hit the sauna.
When I opened the door I was greeted with the expectant smiles of seven or eight of those muscle guys who had been intimidating me on the gym floor ten minutes earlier. "So this is where they all went!" I thought. They were all oiled up, sweat dripping off their huge heaving chests. Their smiles vanished when they laid eyes on me. "Maybe they were expecting one of their other muscle buddies," I thought to myself. As I was about to sit down on the bench at the end one of them growled at me, "You can't sit there." "Oh, sorry," I said meekly, thinking "Fuck you, asshole! You don't own this place!"
There was so much broad-shouldered brawn in there I had no place to sit. So I stood awkwardly against the wall, staring down at my feet. I hated them all, but I would have blown any one of them and swallowed every drop of sperm if he'd ordered me to. The only thing I hated about being gay was my own self-hatred, taught to me in grade school by straight bullies. Why was I so attracted to them when they were all so mean to me?
The door opened slowly and I felt a cool breeze on my feet from the locker room air. The expectant smiles on the muscle studs returned, brighter this time. "Hey, Bertie!" a beefy, bearded hunk from my wet dreams beamed at the grandpa I had chatted with a few moments before. "Hey, Bert!" They all bellowed as if they were on the set of "Cheers." "Well hello, my good gentlemen," the charming old man sang back at them. I hadn't noticed how fey and "musical" he was before. I wondered if he might in fact be a queen like me.
The grandpa hobbled over to the empty bench I had wanted to sit on. One of the meatheads with a killer ass jumped off his perch to help the older man up on the bench. "Let me help you, Sir," he said almost lovingly to the older gent. I thought, "Wow, that was nice of that guy. Maybe he's the one non-asshole among them."
"That's very kind of you, Billy," the old man said as he patted the young stud on the bum and took his seat. "Wow!" I thought. "That's pretty fresh! Maybe he's a dirty old man." I felt bad for thinking they were being mean by denying me the prime bench seat. They were all just looking out for this gay grandpa. Maybe they weren't such homophobes after all.
"Want some steam, Bernie?" another Adonis asked him, jumping toward the bucket of water near the coals. He was so freakishly hot, with biceps wider than my legs and pecs you could sleep on. "Ooooo, that would be nice, Johnny," the old man cooed, loosening his towel and getting comfortable.