a story that's real. really real.

today I'm tired and I can't believe it's already 8 o'clock so I'm not going to make anything up I'll just tell you about something from real life that's happening and I like.

I lift weights recently. I've been going to the gym 4 days a week for almost 10 weeks now and lifting weights. I like it and it's a new rhythm outside of running and so it's welcome.

I lift with my girlfriend who is a girl and pretty strong but also pretty little and I'm little too. We are never the people in the gym lifting the most weight or looking the most confident. In fact, for the past 6 weeks or so, there has been one core group of guys who are the most confident. They stack plates at the decline bench and do weird Cybex cable isolation exercises that convey a sense of ease and practice. They also leer at us. Shitty leering and staring, like only buff but also somewhat overweight mexican dudes can. These guys are the rulers of the gym somehow, even if we're not interested in them in the slightest. They leer.

Six weeks of us quietly putting in our sets, smoothing the mechanics and learning the transitions; keeping our eyes down yet always noticing them. But here's where the incredible and telling part happens. Where the allegory (what's an allegory?) for male hierarchy and machismo structure becomes so clear and exciting.

Just this past Tuesday, when we get into the gym we notice the guys are deflated somehow. They keep their eyes to themselves mostly. This is strange to us even from the other room, warming up on the treadmill. Why are they acting differently? When you see the same people at 5am every day you become used to the way they behave: you write a character for them, you notice changes. And when we walk around the corner and into the weight room it becomes so clear. There is a guy there. A huge guy, who clearly does not give a fuck. A huge guy who clearly gives no fucks and is deadlifting eight reps at 315 lbs and putting more weight on after every set. He is not a meathead or a shitty, swollen bodybuilder type, but a real fucking athlete. You can tell.

My girlfriend later refers to him as 'our White Knight' but in the moment I can barely think straight. The whole gym shakes when he sets the bar down - I'm terrified to look at him. The Tortilla Boys quietly work through their bicep curls, suddenly focused when they normally would be playing grab-ass. The mood is decidedly changed.

He's been in there every day this week. He never looks around or pays anyone notice, but everybody knows that Daddy is home.


 atm1