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.
