Gym Rants: The Good, The Bad and The Fugly

Every time I feel upset or disappointed or hurt, I go to the gym. I always find solace in my second home.

That's right folks! I'm one narcissistic bitch! I've been working out since 2003. That's the one place I'm comfortable in (other than my room) since me and my best friend started pumping our muscles (among other things, he he he) 8 years ago.

Leave it to a masochistic, narcissistic freak to love beauty by way of pain and suffering. But that's not the reason why I blogged this entry.

Mr Good has a rugged look and he kept his hair really, really short. He is well built with a very proud pair of hairy pecks. His arms are like very defined trunks that could crush you in a heartbeat. His 6 packs abs is screaming out of his tight black shirt waiting to be touched and licked. He fashions a very long side burns and his very neatly trimmed beard completed his look. He could have been a 6 footer seeing that I'm already 5 feet, 11 inches tall and he is still taller than me... the kind of guy who would fuck you without mercy.

He looks gorgeously rough but there something in his black, Asian eyes that tell you that he can fuck you hard and hug you warm and tight while having a very smart conversation till you fall asleep in his arms afterwards.

Still, I could make do with just the fucking hard without mercy.

Mr Bad was totally different but just as gorgeous as Mr Good. He has shiny dark brown, highlighted hair set in a K-pop look and dark brown, almond shaped eyes. He's probably in his early 20's and 5"7' or so tall. He would always wear tight shirts and nice pair of jeans every time he goes to the gym.

He wasn't extremely developed like Mr Good. He didn't have a lot of muscle but that's what makes him hot. He's the boy next door that you will take home to mommy. Shirtless, his six-packs are already showing in his almost washboard abs.

Unfortunately, what he makes up with his looks, he lacks in his character... or at least that’s what I thought.

Either way, these are reasons why I sometimes, look forward to working out.

Then enter Mr Fugly.

Mr Fugly is a major, major gym cruiser. He's fat and he's ugly. He has a balding head and a tummy that resembles a 9 month old pregnant woman.

That may sound harsh but it’s true. We fags know, above all people, that physical appearance matters. To hell with the "don't judge the book by its cover shit."

Let's face it, we judge the glossy, colorful, visually stunning cover first and check out its contents later. That's the reason why almost all the premier gyms in the metro are gay central.

And if the gym is the rainbow country, then its sauna and steam room is its twin capital.

Anyway, this guy frequents the steam room and sauna looking for other guys, hot or not, in the hopes for an easy head... even if he has to stay inside the gay capital and get steamed and dehydrated for hours on end.

I don't mind Mr Fugly. I don't even mind him cruising. What I do mind is that he doesn't know how to quit even if you already said "NO!" or more bluntly, "I"M NOT INTERESTED!"

On more than one occasion, when we are alone in the sauna (I work out in the morning when the gym has just opened), he would always make an effort to let me know that he wants me. He would often take off his towel, and jerk off his small dick which is tucked behind his huge belly. I would look away of course but then he would moan loud enough so that I can hear him.

And that’s how our cat and mouse game would start.

I would leave the steam room to go to the sauna... only to be followed by Mr Fugly a couple of minutes later. And that’s what pisses me of.

Now, all 3 guys are not my friends. We don't talk to each other except for Mr Fugly's indecent attempts to engage with me, which I always ignore and Mr Good's rare hi's or 'zup's which I totally look forward to answering back with unemotional nods. I never had any engagement with Mr Bad until one fateful Monday morning when all of us found ourselves working out at the same time.

(to be continued...)