Steam Room 2/20/10

I was at the gym yesterday.  After a nice 5 mile run, I hit the showers and decided to take a steam.

Now I'm not naive.  I know what the steam room of a gay gym entails.  I used to love nothing more than relaxing and patting myself on the back ... or wherever ... after a hard workout.

I was not however, looking for love in all the wrong places.  I wasn't wanting a connection.  I wasn't wanting tenderness.  A little slap and tickle, then I'd shoot my wad and be gone.  Anything more is just annoying.

So imagine my chagrin when I walk in on these two faggots in this weird reclining embrace, taking up all the space on one of the benches.  One was sitting up, leaning against a corner wall, and the other was laying between his legs.  The one against the wall was doing this stupid pressure point massage thing.   The one laying down was reaching back to caress the other's neck and hair.  Everyone once in a while, through the fog, I'd hear a low moan.  It was so fucking annoying, it might as well have been nails on a chalk board.

Don't have a fucking moment in the steam room, for godssake.  And if you do, don't have a weird earthy, granola, creepy massage moment.  I don't know if I was more annoyed by them taking up seats or the pseudo meaningful "We are communing," looks and moans of bliss.

You say communion.  I say puke.

If you're busting a nut in a steam room.  You're not having a meaningful moment.  You're not connecting.  You're being a dirty horned up gaybob who got turned on by all the hot man sweat and had to squeeze one out.    If you need to make any more of it, you need to get it as far the fuck away from me as possible.

The land of the dirty hippies is thataway.