D O G P O E T » 2002 » August

D O G P O E T » 2002 » August: Shut up, brain, I’m trying to live

“You have to hold it like this,” he says, forming a diamond between his two hands.

“Like this?” I ask. He steps closer to look at my grip on the dumbbell.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Okay, thanks,” I say, hefting it over my head, “It always felt kind of funny the other way.”

He smiles and nods “Any time”. He sustains the eye contact for a few more moments and I kind of forget to breathe until I look away. I lower the weight behind my head. He’s right, I can feel the difference. But I guess he should know, being a trainer.

A trainer. One of those gay fantasy icons. Hell, straight fantasy too. I look him over as he does shrugs, watch the tiger tattooed on his shoulder ripple and stretch. Old enough to be my dad, I think. Which has never been a problem for me in the past. We smile again at each other’s mirrored reflections, and I imagine kissing him, imagine him without clothes. I can picture the sex, can’t picture a date. Guys his age seem to want more, though, like I usually do. But consciously or not I’ve been aiming younger. Do I want to grow old with someone closer to my age? Is it vanity?

He keeps looking back, and I’m conflicted. Should I encourage it? Am I leading him on?

Oh relax, dude, I think. One smile and you’re getting married. My head; it’ll keep me from anything. Let life bring you what it wants. Hell, maybe he’ll train you for free.