6.20.2004
YMCA originally untitled
Reprinted from Chickenlegs - 8/13/02
There are few places more aggressively heterosexual than the YMCA gym. Forget the Village People’s song – if you want to be surrounded by grunting, angry men, go the gym at your local Y.
I think they are angry about the song. When they come out of the gym, there is always going to be some dude parked in a Civic who looks at them and smirks knowingly. Thus, the straight men at the Y overcompensate.
For example, sometimes when I finish a particularly grueling workout, I am so focused on passing out that I don’t realize I am staring right at some dude until he growls at me.
I feel bad for the women who work out in the weight room. Dozens of men, eager to prove their straightness, crowd around them. Wordlessly, they lift weights that have no actual purpose save to “impress the ladies.” The fitness-conscious women end up covered in the flop sweat of a thousand strangers.
What would the very straight men of the Y do should any of these women suddenly scream, “Yes, mighty armed man, take me here, on the reclining weight bench!”
Why, the men, wiped out from their work out, would be incapable of performing! What might the women think of them then? What would they think of themselves?
If you want to see heterosexuality in all of it’s glory, the locker room has to be your next stop. Some men, no doubt concerned that wearing a towel is overcompensating, walk around nude for as long as two days before showering and getting dressed. They have stand, one foot placed proudly on a stool, their rank manliness on display for the world to enjoy, flaccidly proclaiming, “Look on my limpness, men, and see how not gay I am!”
It is a sight that I would not wish upon you, but there it is, nonetheless.
There are few places more aggressively heterosexual than the YMCA gym. Forget the Village People’s song – if you want to be surrounded by grunting, angry men, go the gym at your local Y.
I think they are angry about the song. When they come out of the gym, there is always going to be some dude parked in a Civic who looks at them and smirks knowingly. Thus, the straight men at the Y overcompensate.
For example, sometimes when I finish a particularly grueling workout, I am so focused on passing out that I don’t realize I am staring right at some dude until he growls at me.
I feel bad for the women who work out in the weight room. Dozens of men, eager to prove their straightness, crowd around them. Wordlessly, they lift weights that have no actual purpose save to “impress the ladies.” The fitness-conscious women end up covered in the flop sweat of a thousand strangers.
What would the very straight men of the Y do should any of these women suddenly scream, “Yes, mighty armed man, take me here, on the reclining weight bench!”
Why, the men, wiped out from their work out, would be incapable of performing! What might the women think of them then? What would they think of themselves?
If you want to see heterosexuality in all of it’s glory, the locker room has to be your next stop. Some men, no doubt concerned that wearing a towel is overcompensating, walk around nude for as long as two days before showering and getting dressed. They have stand, one foot placed proudly on a stool, their rank manliness on display for the world to enjoy, flaccidly proclaiming, “Look on my limpness, men, and see how not gay I am!”
It is a sight that I would not wish upon you, but there it is, nonetheless.
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