I try to live a healthy life. I eat fairly well, and I stay active. I play basketball, I run, and I go to the gym. I’ve belonged to a gym for almost 5 years now, and I haven’t really met anyone. That’s because I go to the locker room, put my iPod earbuds into my ears, go workout, and then go back to my locker and remove my earbuds and go home. I give a head nod when I make eye contact with anyone, but everyone has pretty much figured out I’m not at the gym for conversation. I look around and see all these guys talking and laughing, but I have no idea what they’re saying because my Vox Jaguars song is usually a bit too loud. I’m pretty sure they all think I’m the stuck up guy at the gym, because hardly anyone else is listening to an iPod at the time I usually go. This is what I imagine a typical conversation is like with everyone else but me:
Muscles #1: Look at that guy, why does he always have his iPod on? None of us do. Does he think he’s too good to talk to us?
Muscles #2: He must. And why does he always wear those shirts that don’t make sense. They’re not even Under Armour or Nike. And why aren’t the sleeves cut off? He probably gets them at goodwill or something. (Sidenote: I do)
Muscles #3: Come on guys, maybe he just likes to get in and get out. He’s here like half the time we are because he doesn’t get stuck in small talk. Or maybe he just likes to relieve stress after work by working out and just listening to his music. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk because he’s on the phone all day and realizes how stupid most people are, and just needs a break.
Muscles #4: Shut up! Everyone wants to talk to us because we have big muscles. It’s impossible he wouldn’t want to talk to us and our muscles. Go do some squats.
So that’s what’s going on in my mind when I see people talking, but I’ve never paused my song to see if I was right. But the other day at the gym, a tragedy occurred. My iPod battery died mid-workout. The music was over, but I left my earbuds in so as not to be disturbed. I heard people talking, but to my surprise, they weren’t talking about me or my gym attire. In fact, after 30 minutes of listening to conversations, I couldn’t tell if I was at a gym or a gay nightclub.
I’ve never been to a gay club, but this is the visual I have:
A bunch of fit men in either no shirts or tank tops. They’re sweaty, and they’re burning calories every second. Sound familiar.
Because I had never listened to these conversations before, I was really surprised how open all of these guys were about their admiration for each other’s physique. I actually heard one guy say to another guy, “you’ve got great calves. ” I wouldn’t say that to another man without at least taking him out to dinner first.
Diet was another main topic of conversation. It was hard to believe this group of big dudes, each with a multitude of tats, were discussing caloric intake, fat content, and serving sizes. I looked around to see if Rachael Ray was going to appear with a pork chop and a deck of cards to give a demonstration. It seems like whenever I talk about serving sizes with my friends, the portions are on a much bigger scale. Like, “I ate 4 POUNDS of crab legs”, or, “John and I split a BUCKET of beer.” Never have I mentioned “cups of broccoli” or “ounces of salmon”.
One guy admitted he ate a Lean Cuisine for lunch earlier that day. Really. Well, at least he has something in common with every woman in my office. I want to officially add this to my list of instant signs that I won’t like a person. If a man eats a Lean Cuisine for lunch, he will not be my friend. I can’t imagine any man with a set of testicles sitting down to enjoy a pre-packaged, calorie-controlled diet lunch who advertises itself as a proud partner of Weight Watchers. You’re a man, not a woman in her early twenties who’s starving herself to fit into a bridesmaid dress next month. You’re 220 pounds and have a tribal tattoo across your bicep for fucks sake. Why aren’t you eating a foot-long turkey sub, or a dead deer you found along the side of the highway? Put down your Lemongrass Chicken and grow a pair.
During the diet portion of the conversation, one of these guys was proud to share that he “caved in and had a donut this weekend.” If a donut promotes feelings of guilt, I can imagine what the rest of your life is like. You most likely order Michelob Ultra when you go out with your boys, but you never have more than 2 and never stay out too late because muscle growth mostly occurs at night after 8 solid hours of sleep. When offered any food in a social situation you claim you “just ate” and refuse, because if you have a plate of nachos or some chicken tenders you’ll have to run an extra mile the next morning. You never miss an issue of Men’s Health, and constantly brag about biking to work in the morning. Let’s compare and guess who’s happier with their life. Last Friday I had a sixer of Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale (214 calories/bottle) (http://www.sierranevada.com/beers/celebrationale.html), followed by a plate of barbequed ribs. I stayed up until 1:00 eating nachos and salsa, and woke up early the next day. I subscribe to Rolling Stone, and to prevent smelling like dirty feet all day, I drive my car to work. Let’s just say I’m guessing the reason you typically avoid donuts is because the donut hole reminds you of the spacious void you have created in your social life because of your crazy health habits.
Another phenomenon that caught my attention while my iPod was dead was all the grunting that goes on during weightlifting. It’s sounds like Monica Seles is doing the bench press next to me, except with the voice of Tom Selleck. I can’t tell if the guy is maxing out his bench or having an orgasm. In my opinion, that’s kind of a personal noise to make in public. Maybe my lack of grunting is the reason I bench 150 lbs. less than some people, but at least it doesn’t sound like I’m taking a shit every 10 seconds.
Another thing I’ve noticed about these guys is their perpetual year long tan. I didn’t think anyone used tanning beds anymore, but one of these guys actually had goggle marks around his eyes. So you obsess about every morsel of food that enters your body, but aren’t concerned about the Stage 2 skin cancer on your back? Good logic. And these same, golden brown colored men were all very smooth. Not smooth talking, but smooth like seals, as in they shaved all their body hair. So I guess what I’m trying to say is, these guys were like tanned seals with 6 packs and skin cancer who like to grunt and have social issues, body image problems, and a subscription to Men’s Health. And their conversations may or may not be appropriate for a gay club.
In spite of everything I’ve described, I’ve decided to put all of these stereotypes behind me and try to befriend this group. And sticking with the Christmas spirit, I’m going to try and win them over with gifts. Instead of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, I’m going with Muscle Milk, tanning oil, and Lean Cuisines. I hope to have my matching tribal tattoo by New Years.
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