Today in the gym, I noticed how much I wasn't male. Every other person in there was a male, except for the occasional sorority girl who tore herself away from the ellipticals long enough to work her inner thighs, only to scurry back up the stairs on her way to a frighteningly low BMI.
Watching, for the first time, these men, I grew more and more nauseated--figuratively speaking. Watching the guys there work out felt like accidental voyeurism, as if I had drunkenly stumbled into the men's locker room after a football game and caught them in the middle of a circle jerk. Awkwardly, I could not look away. This narcissism was beyond masturbatory. It wasn't just that they were pleasuring themselves, it wasn't just a quick release in the bathroom, it was that they were actually having sex with themselves.
You should see these guys look in the mirrors as they pump their arms. They literally thrust after every motion. I am not kidding you. I saw this happen. Repeatedly. Invariably. Tragically.
And after the thrust they flex again!--expelling a digusting kind of grunting/straining noise that could have been recorded as audio for a cheap porno. I believe that any guy there had the power to replicate himself, he would do it just to watch himself give himself blow jobs. It would be the ultimate fantasy.
Oh, and has anyone else noticed that straight guys only care about their arm muscles? They move from arm machine to arm machine, thrusting, grunting, looking in the mirror and all, but never work anything else. I don't know about you, but that gorilla walk really does it for me....
lesbian.
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