Too Sexy

Work, life and other useless distractions had kept me from blogging. Luckily I've stopped caring about working, so that's really opened up a lot of free time.

There are many wonderful things that come along with gay dating, however, body consciousness is not one of them. When you're dating another guy he always has a fully accessible frame of reference with which he can compare body types. He can look at my skinny, nondefined upper arm then back at his toned muscular bicep and then rest assured that all our mutual friends are saying "How did TDS manage that?!?". Furthermore, so many gay men spend hours upon hours in the gym and have amazing bodies. For a short time I thought I could become one of these men. I vowed to give up bread and booze (two of my favorite food groups), spend hours in the gym each day and drink more water (I feel as if drinking more water is the panacea to almost any problem). After about a month I realized this was a lost cause. It's like when you walk past a Honda Civic with a Mercedes Benz emblem on the hood. Nice try. You're not fooling anyone. At best I became a used Audi with one of the hub caps missing.

I bring this up because I am faced with this problem once again. Now before you throw your ashtray at my head and tell me to "fuck off" for boo-hooing about having to date someone who's attractive: hear me out. It's not the attractive factor, it's the fitness factor that worries me. This dude, only days into knowing me, is already suggesting we bike, hike, run and do other strenuous activities together. Doesn't he know it's summer?!? Summer is a time for sangria and suntan lotion and beach blankets. The most physical activity I should be doing is turning the pages of US Weekly pool side while I try to decide whether Kate Gosslin is a "mom turned monster" or "greedy bitch". Personally I'm leaning towards greedy bitch but I will reserve judgment.

When you're single or dating someone who's favorite sport is Foosball at the bar, you are blissfully unaware of how out of shape you are. As soon as you invite some fitness loony into your life you start to feel bad about how "unhealthy you are". I'll start to feel guilty turning down his invites to bike up bear mountain in favor sitting at home with dark chocolate a glass of Merlot and the real housemafia of new jersey. I'll feel shamed when I tell him I don't feel like running because I'm too busy concocting a plan to gain access to the neighboring building's sun deck.

The point of this rant is summer is for tanning, gossiping and drinking. An occasional visit to the gym under the guise of "wanting to look better in my bathing suit" is admirable anything more than that is best kept for winter when you can use the excuse "I would go for that hike if only it were warmer."