At the time, and even still, this seems like one of the most poignant questions one should ask at the YMCA. Forget about membership rates and appropriate sulk time in the sauna. What is it about the nasty, smelly, bodily beads that make men into horrific monsters of dating lust?
If I'm going to be honest, I have to say that the gym has always scared me. There are lots of foreign objects that have names beginning with Turbo. It's a place where any size person is allowed to wear spandex. Not to mention all the people with nametags who encourage you to punch them as hard as you can. But the scariest part, the most horrific part, is the men. Most of them are very large. They can bench press grandmothers. They eat 76 protein bars a day and think it's really exciting that their muscles are the size of healthy watermelons.
And while their sheer bulk wouldn't really bother me, it's their fish tank eyes that do. They stand there in the center of the gym, toning their watermelons, and they leer. It's as though I've accidentally walked into a single's party for Hulk Hogan look alikes, and they're free to scan as they choose because I'm running in place rather than running away from them.
Most of the time, as I am trying to hide behind my hoodie and magazine, I wonder what the point is. They aren't talkers. They don't use really bad lines like, "Come here often?" They just talk hover with their friends, point, and grunt, then awkwardly smile at you as though they know your grandmother's secret ingredient in her hash brown casserole. They are visiting the museum of flexible women and awkwardly abide by the leer, but don't touch policy.
For lent if I could, I would rid the world of nasty, unpopular men who are turned on when I sweat profane body odor through my t-shirts. I would bury them all in a hole, cut out their watermelons to use as footballs, and drown them in an unhealthy gob of Pepsi Max. May they rest in sweaty bliss.
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