He loves sex. He loves hip-hop. Therefore, he shall write about both.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Sexuality in the gym
Having made my unceremonious return to the gym-rat lifestyle, one of things that really caught my attention this time around is the rampant sexuality in the environment.
Not only are all the attractive ladies I see on the streets in my everyday life also in the gym, but they’re half-naked and contorted in all kinds of suggestive positions; often using those big rubber balls that started popping up in everyone’s living room a few years ago. Never before have I felt so envious of something created in a Taiwanese sweatshop.
You look on the TV monitors of the treadmills and stair machines, and most are tuned into music video channels featuring half-naked video yamps whose bodies undoubtedly serve as a motivating factor for patrons of either sex.
You can tell the difference between the cats on the freeweights who want their muscles ogled and those who are putting in an honest workout: the latter have on hoodies, and the former are wearing tank-tops that Carmen Electra would consider too small.
Even many of the gym’s staff members - especially the ones responsible for selling memberships for commission - are preternaturally attractive (Keep in mind I’m a member of a trendy new spot in Chicago, not a soccer mom-attracting YMCA in Hoboken, N.J.).
Admittedly, the whole aesthetic appeals to a longtime fetish of mine: women who are in the process of – or just completed – working out. It’s something about spandex, a sports bra and lots and lots of glistening sweat that revs the kid’s engine. Lots of women feel all gross and disgusting after working out, but I look at them and think to myself, “Let’s make babies!”
I wonder how many people are looking – consciously or not – to find their partners at the gym. It’s an environment in which people are already trying to improve themselves, so why not capitalize on that insane monthly membership and get the body and the booty in the same building?
I’m guessing it’s a glorified hookup environment, much in the same way that the undergrad library is at any major university. I bet many folks don’t just go to the gym to get right…they do it to see and be seen, with the hope of a denouement that involves them doing squat thrusts with someone else back at the cut.
And with the enticing visuals – the big, bulging muscles; bare, toned tummies and the aforementioned glisten – it seems like folks should be in a mindset where it shouldn’t be TOO hard to pull the math from the dime on the treadmill next to you. “Hi…can I wipe down your machine for you? What are you up to after this? Wanna go grab a wheat germ smoothie?” Plus, if you see someone in the gym frequently, you know they’re dedicated to keeping their body right and are probably not as likely to pack on that spare tire or thunderous ass anytime in the near future. All the better for the resume.
For me, the sexy visuals are just a motivating factor, and you’re a damned liar if you say that all those pretty folks in there don’t motivate you to run a bit faster or lift a bit more. The reasoning is twofold: You don’t wanna look like a chump with the right set of eyes on you, and there’s the fantasy that the person attached to those eyes might be more obtainable to you once you actually get your frame right.
Ladies, think about it: who would better motivate you to turn that treadmill up a bit higher – an unattached Morris Chestnut or George Costanza from Seinfeld?