Author's note: apologies for the long hiatus, dear reader. It has been a while since I sent anything out into the big wide world. There will be considerably more regular updates to the Diary in 2022.
Thursday 24 April 2008
Fact of the Day: New Trevor is a fucking fruitcake.
Big-O mometer: ***
Right, so New Trevor from next door and I finally got our arses into gear and headed out to the gym last night. It started well -- he had a bag full of kit, including a change of clothes. You never know whether a guy is going to be a change-there or a go-home-dirty-and-shower-later kinda guy; I'm a change-there myself, but every time I go with Ben I have to shower at home because he is way too shy to do his thing in public, and I hate going home dirty but also hate being rushed because he's waiting to leave. And I'm getting less shy, which is good. So New Trevor having clothes with him at least boded well, and only because I hate being dirty and not at all because he's quite sexy and very easy on the eyes and I'd love to look at his winkie, because of course that has nothing to do with it AT ALL. /lies
Anyway, we get there. Both of us were ready to go already, so we just stashed our bags in a locker and headed upstairs. I told him already I was going to just shadow him and whatever he was planning to do that night was fine by me. I usually do back and legs on a Wednesday, but I skipped my usual chest/arms/shoulders on Monday so I was up for either.
Man, he is kak strong. I have two or three inches on him (height, not bulge. Behave!), but he's ripped and there is a shedload of power packed into his frame. So after a quick warm-up, we're benching. I hit my usual 65, my very upper limit; he's starting "quite light at first, to get back into it" at 90 kilograms. His actual usual weight is 120. This set the pattern for the night.
"Not unusual, and hardly the behaviour of a fruitcake at all," is what you're thinking now. But then it begins. He chirps, all the fucking time. Another guy starts up at the inclined bench next to us; Trevor has a go at him about how he's lazy and can bench more than that. Good natured, I thought at first, but as it progressed I wasn't so sure. The usual array of inverted triangles which make up the good ol' boys in the muscle crowd are doing their thing, he's having a go at all of them, loud enough so they can hear him. "This guy looks like his mother dressed him", "clearly it's washing day, if that's all he could find to wear", "my God, black socks and shorts? Jesus!" and, directly at one of those big beefy guys wearing those bodybuilder special-issue pants which look like pyjamas, "ooh, the circus has come to town and all its clowns have the night off." I don't think the guy knew what to say; he just stared back at New Trevor.
So he says all this stuff and not quietly, either. Fortunately it seems his body can cash the cheques his mouth is writing; he must have some kind of crazy-eyes thing going on which I can't see, but nobody wanted to take him to task for saying it all. I dunno, maybe I'm just too polite, or maybe New Trevor has absolutely no social graces whatsoever. How he got away with it is a bit of a mystery -- clearly it was so outlandish and unexpected that everyone has no way of processing it other than to give him a free pass, like he was a foreigner not used to our customs or something.
Back in the locker-room, it gets worse. He tells one of the larger, slightly older guys that his body shape doesn't suit his dress sense -- he's like Trinny and fucking Susannah -- then calls out "come on, work it, Sexy!" to a younger guy who's surreptitiously flexing near his locker to see his muscles in the mirror across the room. We strip off, hit the showers and the steam-room -- he managed to get naked and under a towel before I got to see anything, the sod -- and he's very flirty in the steam-room to anyone in there, racy comments obviously made as a joke to anyone with half a brain but still very full-on and everything. Seriously, I must have just sat there open-mouthed because he told me to close it at one point.
Then, I'm taking a shower and he's in the one adjacent, and he asks if he can borrow some bodywash. I'm trying to pass it to him over the dividers between the stalls and I realise he's not in there, and in fact he's just opened my shower door to get it from me and is standing there peering around it and looking at me. I've got over some of my shyness being with D&C, but I'm still not quite at the hanging out naked stage while someone clearly looks me over so it was a bit of a surprise.
Worst of all, even I didn't escape being a target. While we're back at the locker putting our clothes back on, as I drop my towel he actually points at my crotch and said, "nice pube job, Charley. I think the trimming and shaving really enhances your package" playing the crowd but with a dead straight face, like he was the mayor thanking me in all earnestness for long service to the community or something. I heard sniggers from across the locker room from some of the guys who were in the steamroom with us earlier and I must have blushed Ferrari red as I turned away a bit. It threw me completely; by the time I'd turned back, and before I could make a similar comment or even really pay attention, he'd dropped his towel and had his boxerbriefs back on. Plain black; couldn't discern anything bulge-related through them, so no luck for me there.
Lastly, the humiliation was completed as we were walking out and another dude walking in -- New Trevor turns to me and says, volume at around Metallica Concert level, "Charley, he's fine!" and carries on walking like he's just talking about the weather. The dude in question -- and yeah, wow, he was fine and damn, what a butt on him -- gave me the dirtiest looks ever in the history of ever, despite my apologetic smile and shrug of the shoulders.
I'm not sure how I can show my face there again. Worst/best thing about it all, he "had such a fun time with me" that he's going to join. I'll get the lone benefit of a partner who knows what's what -- I can tell from how tender I am this morning that we had a good session -- and all the benefits of being associated with him and his loud mouth. I suspect we're going to lose some teeth at some stage.
That aside, Mom and Dad were all happy and chipper last night; happier than they've been in a while. Odd. Not bad, but peculiar in recent times. And last night's big O -- 3 stars; decent enough. I wonder if additional details would be a good inclusion? And we're headed out to Stellies tomorrow night, our old school gal-pal Debs has a birthday and so Ben and me are pulling through to celebrate.
-C