Well done gayboys, you survived Christmas and didn’t succumb to alcohol poisoning on New Year’s Eve. It’s a whole year before you have to suffer the torment of retuning to parents’ homes to be interrogated about love lives and why you’re wearing a vest top in the middle of winter, or (if you’re particularly unlucky enough to have parents who enjoy the whole ‘gay son’ thing a bit too much) have the horror of unwrapping a completely unsuitably large sextoy on Christmas morning (I saw it happen on Twitter).
Never mind though, let’s focus our energy on 2014 and reaching the unattainable: having perfect obliques. This will, of course, require frequent visits to the gym and even more frequent taking of Grindr selfies. I’m extremely excited.
I must say though, I have had an ABSOLUTE WESTON-SUPER-MARE at the gym over the past month. Things have happened which Jim Carrey couldn’t even poorly act out. That’s right homos, I am taking a stand to say ‘NO!’ to your bad gym habits and ‘YES!’ to change.
1. The use of aftershave.
All is lovely, you’ve had a great workout and are happily getting ready to trot back off to whatever banal professional life you lead. Of course the changing room is deadly silent except for the occasional iPhone shutter sound as someone has forgotten to flick the side switch before they take a selfie for Instagram #GymLife. Suddenly the air is filled with the sharp intake of breath and low moans. Yes, that’s right, you’ve sprayed your aftershave. Of course, you spraying your aftershave isn’t the actual cause of this rude interruption. The cause is everybody’s lack of care when they spray.
On the 16th of December 2013 I was victim of a sinister twist of events as an absolute BOGAN of a boy missed his body as he sprayed and shot me right in the eye with what might as well have been pepper spray. To add insult to injury, it was 1 Million by Paco Rabanne. Words can’t even express the anger stirring inside me as I’m writing this. To whoever it was out there, I have a few things to say to you: 1) no your mumbled ‘oh shit, sorry mate’ as you ran out of the room wasn’t sufficient, 2) I know how much 1 Million costs and I’m willing to bet you still couldn’t afford it, 3) From what I could glean through my one eye I’d suggest you stopped trying to wear the aftershave and just sprayed potential pulls in the face. U.G.L.Y.
The moral of the story? Just don’t wear aftershave at the gym. I will hunt you down.
2. Gossiping quietly.
Darling, listening to stories about your little inbred friendship circle is literally the only thing that keeps me going some days. Up the volume and share the hate.
3. Leaving ‘surprises’ in people’s lockers
This is only going to be a short one, because it’s pretty self-explanatory. To whichever Hunty posted two condoms (thankfully still wrapped and unused) through the little metal grate on the front of my locker: you are weird. What was I supposed to do when I returned from my spin class, wave them around and ask who wanted to use them with me? Furthermore, as seen in the evidence below, I know that they’re Pasante. We all know what Pasante means: you got given them for free at the club. The height of class. I’ll have 200 lines of ‘I will not trust condoms left in self-serve bowls on bar counters’ posted through my locker by next Monday please.
At this moment the catharsis of having spilt my disastrous month at the gym to you has physically exhausted me. All that I have the energy left to say is a ‘Happy 2014’. I’d also like to take the moment to ask for your best wishes as I embark on my New Year Resolution: to learn to do the splits.
Thank God I only speak to you in words as I fear my voice might rise several octaves. Still, I’d like to send you off into 2014 with the image of Julie Hesmondhalgh and I strutting into Heaven on a Saturday night when BAM, we’ve both jump-dropped straight into the splits. Tickets will be sold around the end of August.