The fact that I'm the only gay guy at my local gym is not the only thing that makes me different. I'm also the only one--man or woman--who brings a towel each time.
We all sweat--well, I've got this one friend who doesn't seem to. It's so irritating to see his shirt and forehead are still completely dry after a vigorous two-hour tennis session! Anyway, almost all of us sweat. We need to be accountable for it.
They've set up these spray bottles with colored water in them and wipe rags, but few people ever use them. The treadmill folks are far better than the bodybuilders. To the he-men who throw ridiculous weights on the bars, it's like wiping down the bench is a girly thing. And staring at your pecs from front and side profile isn't? What about that triple berry protein shake you get at the end of your workout? And how about that conversation you guys were having about how to add more avocado to your diet? And here I thought the steroids did it all.
Yeah, I sound cranky. I get tired of being the only one with a towel. I feel like Linus walking around with his blue blanket. I'm no germaphobe, but sometimes it's like sliding in one of those Jello pits when I've gotta use a bench after these guys.