I don't know what's going on. Yesterday an amazing success rate in hooking up on the world's worst hookup venue, and today a cruising paradise in the world's worst place for cruising.
Gay gyms are good for cruising: lots of pumped-up guys trying to attract attention and phone numbers.
Straight world gyms, not so much: straight men get insulted by the idea that another guy might think they're hot, so they are constantly checking to make sure no one is looking at them. Any random glance is perceived as a threat, so cruising has to be subtle. It's easier just to let it go altogether.
The YMCA on the Plains doesn't usually have much to offer anyway: a lot of old, out of shape heteros who spend too much time in the sauna discussing sports matches and the grandchildren's college plans, until they turn into red, sweat-soaked out of shape heteros.
Hardly anyone under age 70, except for groups of little kids -- the ones who have to sign the "under 15" list to work out.
They are cruisy., for some reason, but who wants some 14-year old following him around with a goofy grin on his face? Seriously, what does he expect me to do, invite him out to dinner?
But today the stars must have been aligned just right, or maybe karma was rewarding me for passing up that pie at lunchtime, because the staid old YMCA suddenly became a cruising paradise. Wall to wall hot guys in their 20s and 30s, with as much face-crotch-face glancing as at the Faultline ten minutes before closing.
1, Reddish brown hair, long face, very thin, wearing a t-shirt from a school I had never hard of. Constant eye contact.
2. Black, thin, diamond earring, sort of fey. Kept watching me on the incline press. Later I worked on a pulldown and got a good view of him on the exercise bike. What he had in his pants kept bouncing up and down.
I got a "Hi, how's it going" from him.
"Is that your son?" I asked.
"I'm his coach. We're in town for a game with the local university." He mentions a college in Minnesota, about 200 miles away. That explains the twink parade.
"What liberal art are you studying?" I ask. "I majored in modern languages."
He gives me the standard face-crotch-face glance. "Um...actually it's the College of Liberal Arts at ___ university. They were having a fundraiser. I'm a health science major."
"Oh, ok." I am disappointed -- I wanted to go out with a nice history or philosophy major. On to the next guy!
"But...I have nothing against the liberal arts," he adds, doing another set of calf raises. "I've taken classes in languages and philosophy. This semester I'm taking African Culture and Civilization. It's just hard to find a job with something like that. What work do you do?"
"Professor at your rival university."
"Cool! I'll look for you in the stands tomorrow afternoon."
"Oh, I can't make the game, I'm busy. But afterwards, if you're not going home right away, I know a place that serves Ethiopian food. You can report back to your African Culture Class."
His name is Hunter, by the way. I'll report on the date.
But karma wasn't finished with me yet. In the locker room, I stumbled upon:
5. A tall, thin twink with a nondescript physique but a thick cut sausage.
The uncensored post, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.