So, there's this guy at the gym. Big, bad, and bald, to be specific. And we tend to be by the same machines during the same time. I also tend to think he lives in this section, leaving only to rip more tee-shirts into revealing masculine tank tops that tough guys wear. He's a grunter. The kind that you know is forced, and awkwardly sexual- every woman's dream! Thankfully, his grunting isn't too invasive, and I almost enjoy imagining what is going through his head as he exaggerates his efforts.
This morning: dude numero dos enters the area, and he looks like a bull in a china shop, if bulls were puny and wore their blonde hair in spikes especially for working out. His gym mantra is much different from The Grunter, as he doesn't do any "impressive" lifting. But he does do really short sets! And in-between each of these sets, he leaps off of the machine, puffs out his chest, holds his arms out, and speed walks angrily around. It's as if he was trying to gain energy to get back to lifting those forty pounds. From afar, these two men were indulging in some sort of ancient bird mating ritual. Both male, and showing off, but oddly working well together.
I have but one complaint towards The Puffer. At the end of his 45 second sets, he let all of the weights slam down. And while it was better that he would do that, than The Grunter, whose weights would have been even louder, flat metal on flat metal is loud. And unpleasant. If he, The Puffer, would take people's ears into consideration, I would gladly be a witness to the joining in holy matrimony of Puff and Grunt. They deserve each other.
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