I did yoga solo tonight; Chris was busy and decided to skip class. Afterward, I thought I'd unwind with a little bit of treadmill action (trust me, I pay extra attention to what I'm doing now). Now, World Gym is set up a little differently than Gorilla Sports, where I usually work out. The treadmills at Gorilla are in the old upper theater balcony, but the ones at World are at the edges of a big room where all the machines and free weights are located. This makes the World treadmills a great place to people-watch.
Or, as what happened this evening, a place to get cruised.
I noticed a guy walking back and forth in front of my treadmill. Now, that in itself isn't unusual...people walk in front of treadmills all the time. In fact, I didn't pay much attention to him at first, except to think to myself "He's kinda cute." The second time he walked by, he looked at me...about 5 seconds longer than a usual glance.
"Hmmm," I thought to myself. "You go there, Miss Susie Cruisy."
The third time he walked by, I knew
I was being cruised, hard. I didn't mind, actually. He was kind of cute, black hair, nice build, handsome face, nice tan. I watched him do his workout, causally glancing away every time he turned around to look at me. It's a little skill I've picked up while living in San Francisco. I can ignore you and stare right at you at the same time. I don't do it very often, but when I do, I do it well. I learned it at Badlands
. What can I say?
I soon finished my run and headed to the locker room. Lo and behold, guess whose locker was right across from mine? You guess it. Cruisy Cruiserson, and he was standing in front of me, half naked. Still in my own little world, I started undressing. Finally, he broke the silence.
"You were running pretty fast on that treadmill there," he said, smiling.
"Yeah, I guess. I like to sweat," I answered.
And the small talk continued from there. I like to sit in the dry sauna after yoga, and apparently, so did Cruisy. When I got to the sauna, he was standing there, holding the door open for me. "Thanks," I said.
"No problem," he replied, and sat down right next to me. We were the only two in there, but he still sat less than a foot away from me. I could see this was going to be interesting.
We chatted a little more. Suddenly, he asked me, "Do you run marathons?"
"No, why?" I wondered where this was going.
"You sure have the legs for it."
Bless your heart. "Really? Thanks." I didn't quite know how to answer that.
"Yeah, they're nice." He lightly poked my right thigh.
There was no doubt in my mind that this boy was a big major homosexual, especially since he started twiddling with his [quite large] uncut penis. It kinda looked like a baby elephant trunk. I felt a bit uncomfortable; I'm not one for gym sex. I think it's horribly tacky, and I am actually pretty disgusted when I happen upon two guys going at it in a steam room. There is a time and place for everything, and gyms are NOT a place for sex. Take it to the bathhouse, boys. Call me a midwestern prude if you like, it's just my personal opinion. I suspect Cruisy sensed this, because he quickly took his hands away from his weenie.
"I think I've had enough. Time to get out of here," I said, getting up and wrapping my towel around me.
"Yeah, me too." Cruisy followed me out the door. "Hey, this is nice," he said, fingering my tattoo on my shoulderblade.
We got dressed, and Cruisy offered to walk out with me. Stepping outside, he asked me, "So, where are you parked?"
"I don't have a car."
"Really?" he asked, a bit incredulously.
"Nope. Don't need one. I mean, I live in North Beach. Where the hell am I going to park?"
"You have a point. Well, do you need a ride somewhere?"
"Sure, would you take me to the top of Potrero Hill?" I had told Chris I would stop over at his house after yoga. He lives on the very top of Potrero Hill, the highest one in San Francisco, and I really didn't feel like trudging all the way up the hill if I didn't have to.
"No problem, I live on Potrero."
"Ex-cel-lent!" I said in my best Montgomery Burns
voice. We walked down De Haro street a bit, and I wondered which car was Cruisy's. Was it the Jetta? Or perhaps the Impala? Or maybe that Toyota or one of those BMW's. Nope...turns out it was a bright orange New Beetle convertible.
I was sure he was gay before that, but now...well, not only was I sure he was gay, I suspected he was a bottom.
I climbed in, and off we went. We chatted a bit more, nothing too serious, just small talk. Turns out he moved to San Francisco only three months ago from Columbus, Ohio, and didn't know too many people. Actually, he's a pretty nice guy, intelligent as well as cute.
Halfway up Potrero Hill, I suddenly felt something on my leg. I looked down, and saw Cruisy rubbing his hand up and down my left thigh. "Hey now," I said, gently.
"Huh?" he asked.
"Whatcha doing there?"
"Rubbing your thigh, I hope you don't mind."
"Well, why don't you get to know me a bit better first?"
"Oh, sorry." He pulled his hand away, looking a bit embarassed.
"Don't worry about it, I just think it might be nice to hang out with you and get to know you. Besides, I don't usually fool around with guys right after I meet them." Now, that last part isn't necessarily true, but even if I was single, I would have done the exact same thing in this situation.
"Yeah, you're right. Wait, you live in North Beach. Why are you going to the top of Potrero?"
"Going to see my boyfriend."
"Oh." He looked really embarassed now.
"Hey, don't worry about it. You gave me your card, I'll send you an e-mail and we'll hang out. I'll show you around the city...I know where a lot of the cool spots are."
"I'd like that," he said, his cheeks still bright red. He was absolutely adorable.
"Okay, have a good night." I stepped out of his car, and he drove off into the night.
Welcome to San Francisco, guy.