Which weirdo went down to the gym today

“Hi, Mark – the aqua mumble, mumble instructor here” – he extends his hand “You been for a workout?” - No shit Sherlock I’m in a fucking gym changing room wrapped in a towel . You meanwhile are standing there stark bollock naked and expect me to shake your hand. Where am I ancient Greece or something? Why in god’s name would I want to conduct a conversation with a weird naked stranger and more to the point why would I want to shake his hand when only a minute earlier he looked like he was trying to perform personal colonic irrigation with the same hand in his neanderthal attempt to dry his more than ample butt cheeks - well you can’t help but have a sneaky look can you?...

“Emmm, David” I stammered and shook his bloody hand – and then completely lost myself in a few hate filled seconds as I contemplated what hideous bodily fluids we had just exchanged as he battered on about aqua gym and being the highest paid aqua gym instructor in London and ..... “like I fucking care, you odious little man” my mind screamed but somehow my voice conveyed “really, that’s interesting”. He leant towards me, so that a lucky shower leaver (oh how I envied him) could manoeuvre his way round Mark's Oprah-shaming arse on his way to the locker sanctuary – which meant, I swear it, that his meat and veg actually touched my towel – yes - dangly bits belonging to him, touching a towel belonging to me. This is not turning into some homo erotic tale of note so what do you expect - I punched him, full in the face, blood splattered across the tiles, he squealed like a new born piglet and collapsed to a jubbery mess, writhing in his own claret.

I wish that last bit actually happened but sadly instead I just endured some more inane tales of the utterly expected in aqua land - oh how I laughed - wassock - before I somehow scurried to wash that hand -eugh, that hand, those fluids, And get me out of this towel. How much worse can a simple 10 metre walk from the shower cubicles to the locker be.... what a wanker (if you're American that's just like - well just imagine someone from South Carolina).

Still to this day I cannot work out what possesses a grown man to strike up a conversation like that – and he’s not alone. Is it me? Is it acceptable to flounce up to people in the bollocky buff and have a natter about nothing in particular? Is it normal for these same people to plonk their sweaty naked arses directly on the benches in the locker room or the sauna? Am I in some way dysfunctional that I like to have the crinkly bits tucked away before I discuss school fees or the price of a tall skinny latte and is my OCD so out of control that I like to sit on a towel ? It seems there are lots of Mark’s in the gym – maybe I am the weirdo.

Perhaps that’s why running appeals - space – real, seemingly unlimited personal space – something the tadpole man will never quite get.

And as for the aqua gym class – really great – I’d highly recommend it ;-) !

BelfastBoyRuns