It looked like another low-cal cocktail weenie party in the showers at the Y again this morning. Myself and four other guys were all washing and none of them had the minimum amount of desired body hair for them to blip on my radar. I note that there is a guy in one of the privacy stalls. I start my shower routine.
I turn to rinse my back and notice that the guy in the privacy stall is on all fours, forearms and knees, right on the hard shower floor tiles.
On.
All.
Fours.
Is he praying to Mecca? Is he looking for a contact? Is he ok?
More worrying is the thought: ‘Why aren’t we all reacting to this guy on the floor like that scene in Carrie?’ because no one else seems to be doing anything. Or they’re refusing to see it.
I shoot glances to the other guys. Two are extremely busy voicelessly comparing each other’s dick size that they haven’t noticed Crawly. One is right next to the privacy stall and probably can’t see Crawly from the angle of his eyesight to the bottom of the stall. The last is finishing up quickly so he is avoiding confrontation.
Typical nervous naked guys.
In my head, I am wondering if I should do something. He may very well be praying…
Plup. He goes down to one side and is lying on the tiles.
Oh ok. This isn’t good. Fast Finisher is out the door. The other three still aren’t moving. I’m about to walk over when he rights himself back up into the doggie position and slowly rises up. He draws the curtain back and I can see he’s a toned, healthy (?) guy. He gets shower bench and goes back into the stall.
He seems ok (as well as could be, I guess) and as I’m leaving I pass Fast Finisher informing the locker room attendant about crawly. He’s joking that the guy might be very hung over.
I think he was just having a bad moment with his meds.
Once, a while back, I nearly fainted on the subway. Between Dundas and Queen, the medications I was on decided that it was time to rob my brain of yummy blood. The car was full enough that there wasn’t any seats so I staggered over to a doorway to steady myself. I went pale. I knew I looked like a vampire. I couldn’t keep my eyes open and all I could think was:
“No. Not here. I can’t bear the embarrassment!”
It passed and I was able to get a seat and made it to the office, without further incident.
I felt for that guy on the floor. In one small way I bet he was glad I didn’t come forward with my goolies hanging out, trying to help.
9 thoughts on “On Your Knees, Showerboy!”
goolies hanging out
Yeah… it’s going to take a few head traumas to get that dislodged.
Missed your chance but what if you had tried to mount and then had a low blood moment yourself, given the diagnosis last week, and you both passed out, compromised positions and all…funny image.
My dog presents herself that way to male dogs, I think you missed your chance with him Ted.
I’m surprised someone didn’t mount him. Oh, wait–this was at the Y, not Bloor Valley.
bah. a real predator would have ripped out his throat.
in other news, you’ve been replaced.
I’m a crier.
Public.
Streetcars, mostly, in the winter.
On my bike ’til November so safe. World is safe.
It’s interesting that only at somewhere like the Y could someone in that position be as “ambiguous” as it was….I guess I’m “Lucky” in that the only public medication “moments” required only Imodium and a panicky search for a bathroom.
The only time I ever came near to fainting was in the gym shower. it was definitely a case of too much cardio/too much steamroom/too hot shower. I just propped myself up in a corner until the tunnel of black went away.
Probably over doing on the cardio/hot shower/blood pressure thing.
Or he was practicing his dog playing dead in the rain improv…