Yesterday PHF went to the gym. He worked out, a little, but he mostly went for the hot tub because he's so sore from... cue sympathetic sigh and shoulder pat... snowmobiling. Actually, it was more a day of digging out. See these moron... er, guys go in deep powder and guess what happens when they bail off the thing?
It sinks as fast as money at the Polaris dealership.
Our gym has a girlsies' whirlpool and a boysies' whirlpool at the back of each locker room. They are separated by a thin barrier of sheetrock and studs, which at first thought seems a little junior high. But, I'm grateful because I learned things about the men's whirlpool yesterday that I need to purge here, by writing. This is your final warning. Turn back now, because what I'm about to tell you will change you forever.
They get in there...
I'll give you a minute.
I think no one will dispute that men are hairy and gross, and nowhere are they hairier and grosser than at the gym. Ok, the fraternity sleeping dorm is a close second. Oh, and wrestling mats. But the gym is the worst. I know. I have a lot of experience working out with "da guys." They sweat. They stink. They wipe stuff off with the little towel, but they leave their stink everywhere. They sweat some more. They try to talk to you when you don't have your Ipod on. And then they have the audacity to wear bad cologne and brown belts with black shoes.
Now, I'm just repeating what I was told; don't kill the messenger. But the whirlpool routine for the guys goes a little something like this:
Strip down, leaving their clothes and crap lying all over the place.*
Playful towel-snap routine at various naked, hairy asses.
Get in the hot tub.**
Discuss the "big play," be it sports, women or work.
Sweat more because the hot tub is, well, hot.
Fart because the whirlpool bubbles cover the fart bubbles.***
"Not" watch other guys getting out of the hot tub while "not" noticing how big they are--and I ain't talking beer bellies here.
Get out, take a shower****
Go to "work".*****
I stood in silent, frozen horror as PHF told me that the guys don't wear swimsuits in the hot tub. It was like being held rapt by the train that is bearing down on you. Actually, how he put it was: "I was the only guy who wore a swimsuit in the hot tub."
Thinking back on it now, I'm calling bullshit on that statement. Sure, his swimsuit was wet (and it's already been through a hot wash with bleach) but something about it doesn't ring true. That swimsuit didn't smell bad enough. I'll question him further and report back later. I've my wayssss of getting at the truth, my precioussssnesss, yesss I do...
Do you ever have those moments when your mouth just spouts off without waiting for instructions from your brain? After hearing this horrific litany of events my mouth took it upon itself to ask:
"Does it... you know? Float?"
PHF did that little confused head-shake. "Does what float?"
"You know... your... your..."
The stuttering was because the brain was waging an internal battle with the mouth: "Stop it now or no more chocolate for you! I'll put her on diet. By God, don't test me! I'll do it. You know I will."
But the mouth called the brain's bluff. I remember it in a odd, vague sort of slow-mo--clearly an effect of the brain trying to protect itself from irreparable damage.
"Youuu knoooow, yourrrr peeeniiisss...."
PHF just laughed, shook his head, and went up to shower.
Now, I think we women can agree that we accept the penis's existence as a neccessary evil. As long as it keeps its head down and does its job when asked, with a minimum of fuss and muss, it'll get its bi-weekly raise. I should think the mouth knows enough about the penis to last a lifetime. But ask it did. The question is out there, and the problem is I don't know whether the head shake was a veritable, authentic "No" or whether it was "Oh my God, you really have no idea, do you?"
I really don't have any idea because there are a lot of kinky things I'll do in the name of awesome sex, but getting into a hot tub with a naked guy is NOT one of them. So. Does anybody know? Does it float?
No, I don't want to know.
Ok, tell me...
NO! Shut up!
*this is unconfirmed, but likely.
**notice there in no mention of a swimsuit.
***no one notices the smell because it's the men's locker room.
****don't wanna, but the wife insists on it.
*****meeting at Starbucks.