Gym Will Fix It
This QOTW has stirred in my cluttered memory a fantastic story. Gyms are where people go to get trim, get fit, and hopefully use their improved self-image to score with someone they think is out of their league. I don't go to the gym but my friend did for a short while. I did not find out until much, much later why he stopped going to the gym. It wasn't laziness and it wasn't for lack of will. It was a good old British dose of crippling social anxiety.

Like all good stories this concerns sex. My friend was still quite young and a strapping lad in his mid to late teens. Unlike everyone else we knew, who had had sex or were unabashedly lying to make it look like they had been having what everyone else said they'd been having, he was an unashamed virgin. This guy is quite attractive, girls swoon over him, but he has a slight awkwardness about him that means he always fucks it up. So he decided to go to the gym to boost his self-image and get rid of the beginnings of booze-flab.

For several months he simply trotted off to the gym and began getting that odd holier-than-thou complexion that comes from going to the gym obsessively. You know, the types that keep badgering you to go to the gym because "oh my gosh how could I have survived before the gym!?". It was fair to say his confidence was rising. The rising in confidence brought into his mind that he could do with a job. Become a Man's man.

After the interview for this job, still suited and booted, he went back to the gym, where his smart self obviously stirred the loins of the lonely receptionist there. She flirted outrageously with him because there's nothing like a suit to make you look rich and together, which his leather jacket and holey Rolling Stones t-shirts he normally wore didn't do. But I digress. He cons his way into a date with this beauty and instantly runs into a problem: he has nowhere to take her home to. No lush bachelor's pad. No penthouse suite. Only a house 20 miles out of town. With his parents in.

Not one to give up a deception without exhausting all options, he charmed the keys of his dad's friend's friend, who happened to housesit an inner city mansion, filled with exotic carpets and said friend's exotic herbs. So he ends up starkers in a stranger's bedroom with a woman he hardly knows, who taking the initiative has been asking for some decidedly off-colour fun.

Not wanting to look like he doesn't know what he's doing (because he's a super-rich successful businessman with an inner-city mansion and housekeep) he awkwardly thrusts and pouts and grunts, throwing around his wobbly man-member to try and please this woman. The only research he's had for this has been internet porn so the results when coupled with the woman's darling abundance of alacrity resulted in some phenomenally awkward sex. He was so embarassed that he kicked her out afterwards and slept on the floor in front of the bed he had just christened with his own fluids.

He told me this story when I was on said bed and also pointed out every piece of free-standing furniture he had athletically had sex on, which included a radiator, sink, and mini-bar. I was also told not to use any of the toothbrushes or to even think about touching the food in the bar. When pressed for an answer why, he clams up and starts nervously reaching for his arse.
(John_Anon_Prince I have no heart and soul, Wed 15 Jul 2009, 17:58, Reply)