Good Bally Hunting

It's amazing all the action that goes on at Bally's. From the moment I walk down the parking lot and head towards the building, I can see the eyes staring from those on the treadmills. What are they thinking when they see me? Do they see a stylish, virile (heh), strapping negro brother? Or do they wonder what the heck he's wearing? Are my shorts too short and skimpy? Do they see the sweat stains from my athletic tee from the day before?

I can't say that I'm innocent either. As I enter the gym, I'm eyeing the joint for some interesting eye candy. Occasionally I hit the jackpot. But I dare not let any guy know that I'm staring at them. You know...that whole gay stigma thing. Although if I were going to an actual Chicago area gym (as opposed to the burbs), I could definitely stare with no shame in my game. Not that I do...since you know, I do go to the gym primarily to work out. But in Chicago, the gay males are in full force as I found out during my working it out date months back. Dudes jacking off in the shower area while staring at me, dudes purposely brushing up against me in the locker. Okay it was two dudes in all but there didn't seem to be a shortage of others that wouldn't do the same.

Eugene and I got into a discussion recently about a couple of encounters he's had at the gym. Eugene's about twenty pounds heavier than myself so he seems to attract more of the muscular athletic types than I do. So Hemingway he was telling me how he caught this hot chocolate 220-lb solid frame brotha staring at him as he walked towards the water fountain. That same said brotha later on situated himself inside a shower where everyone in the lockerroom could see him in all his naked glory.

Then there's this other athletic brotha that actually chats with Eugene whenever he sees him, the brotha even going as far as flexing his muscles in front of him.

I told Eugene that since I'm visiting him mid-August, I'll have to go to his Bally's and check these hot commodities out for myself. I then lamented how I rarely get any attention from those type of guys.

Eugene then began this extensive discussion on what he calls the "Masculinity Index". Basically all guys can be rated anywhere from 1 (Little Richard) to 5 (Mr. T.). Eugene first asked me how I would rate myself. I told him that I know I'm not the most masculine guy but I don't think of myself as overly femme either so I gave myself a 3. I rated Eugene as a 3.5.

Of course, Eugene had different opinions on that. He rated me a 2.75 while he rated himself a 3.8.

The ratings obviously are subjective to individual opinions. One person's 4 could be another person's 2 and so on, and so on.

So we continued the discussion as we rated various guys in our lives on the Masculinity Index scale. My highest rated guy had a 4 while Eugene's highest had a 4.2. For lowest, I rated one guy a 2 while he rated his lowest a 2.5.

Both of Eugene's encounters were rated by him to be 3.5 or higher. He then pointed out that a lot of guys rated that high wouldn't want to be seen chatting with someone that's less than a 3. Someone like me...*LOL*. So in other words, that was the logical explanation why I never get encounters such as he described.

It was an interesting theory. And with all theories, nothing is 100% foolproof as there's always exceptions to the rules.

You know what, though. I don't really go in the gym for a manhunt. But that doesn't mean I don't look for some pleasing stimulation. Nothing like a hard body to keep one motivated to keep coming. Eugene himself told me that if the hot chocolate 220 brotha even showed a smigdeon of interest in him, he'd become a gym junkie quicker than I could say "I've fallen and I can't get up". I told him I hope he does and he needs to do it before I get there. That way, he can introduce him to me and I could try to be the exception. Heh.