The weekend started in a weird way.
Jim and I had decided that it was finally time that we suspend our relationship. I'd decided that a while back but he was finally convinced when he found out I had been to a Christmas party hosted by Freddy, the 'devil' as he would call him. Point being, by crook more than hook I managed to get what I think I wanted which was a separation. It hasn't sunk in, I don't know if its a delayed reaction or maybe, just maybe, I'll distract myself to the point where I just look at it as a pleasant thing of the past, without the emotional mourning.
I've been very good at distracting myself so far.
Friday night I come home from university and I realize i have no plans. I didn't feel like going to Shabbat and i knew it would be quite empty as most people are still on holiday. I decided it was (finally) time to return to the gym. I also decided that it would be just a treadmill day, as i had had too much food in California over the christmas break.
I put on my hollister gym pants and polo shirt, packed a bag with deodorant, gel and what have you, and walked to Virgin Active Chelsea, which is only about a 5 minutes away. I made a beeline for the treadmill, and despite hoping I'd last for an hour, i only made it to 45 minutes and felt really tired.
I don't like that slight dizziness i get after i walk off a treadmill. I walked rather slowly to the mens locker room, which was attached to this fully equipped spa. Ah what a great idea - i took off all my clothes, took a shower, and wrapped myself in a towel for the steam room. Now this isn't one of those sleazy London 'gay gyms' that I've grown to hate. It's actually respectable and frequented by straight men (as much as it likely that gyms are frequented by straight men in London anyway). The spa was nonetheless a little sexually charged. I'd catch someone looking at me as I took a shower. The dark steam room was eerily quiet. The jacuzzi (which is the best I've seen!) was far too comfortable. None of the facilities were mixed so no trunks or towels were necessary at any point, and many made use of this freedom.
At some point i saw this guy, a stocky, blond, boyish good looking guy, probably mid twenties. He seemed as straight as they come. Just my type. You could probably guess what ended up happening. It was strange though because he never made it clear that he was in any way interested. It was only when i went back to the locker to get dressed and saw that his locker was across from mine did I start a conversation about, something stupid, being back from the holidays. His face lit up and he started talking back enthusiastically. Wayne, he said his name was, from South Africa. I gave him plenty of opportunity to make beeline for the exit but he was attached like a little puppy. I asked if he was doing anything and suggested this bar that was not too far from the gym. "I'd have to go home to change first" i said. I can't be caught in Kosmopol in sports gear. He said sure I'll come along and wait.
When he said wait, i assumed wait in the living room while i got dressed. He was a little bit more forward than that, and followed me to my room. as i took off my gym pants and put on some jeans, his hand tapped my thigh. I moved in a little closer and we made out for a while before i pushed him into bed. It was good vanilla fun, definitely needed it all. After we were finished he asked if i picked up guys from the gym every day. I honestly have never done so, and he seemed to have trouble believing that. We lay idle for a while before finally deciding to actually make it to Kosmopol. Once there we had fantastic cocktails. He looked at me and asked: "have you had sex with a Jew before?" I answered "Yes". A little disappointed, he extended his hand and said "Well you're definitely my first Arab". I hadn't known he was Jewish, but I thought that was kind of cute. He also made a point of the fact that he'd never actually dated guys. He was much more into women for relationships, men for the odd fling. Fair enough, at least I'm not going to have to deal with drama. Come to think of it, he was actually really aggressive in his manner of speech. Short man syndrome we used to call it.
We shared the sofa with two ladies, our conversation with them lasted for hours. My flatmate showed up, and as soon as he saw my new catch he looked at me and asked "who is this guy? samwise gamjee?" (you know, from lord of the rings?)I thought that was pretty funny, and commented that he was a really hot samwise gamjee. At the end of it he'd had too many drinks and was resting his head on my chest. I asked if he wanted to leave and he finally said yes. Somehow we made it back to my flat (he was really drunk). Before falling asleep instantly he looked at me and said, "you know, I hate people like you". He wrapped his arm and leg around me and fell asleep.
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