I recently had a very odd experience and imagined how a crew member of Star Trek would feel after materializing on a foreign planet. The planet I materialized on? The third floor of the MVP gym. More specifically, the weights room. I took the elevator to the second floor (wore my workout outfit and super-Robo-boot) then hobbled up the flight of stairs to the mysterious realm of Testosterone. Seriously. I walked in and it was like a cloud of Testosterone. The room dripped with it. It may sound gross, but it was actually rather pleasant. I had a training session with James and he promised to give me an upper body workout that would get my heart and endorphins pumping.
And there was a lot of pumping up there, let me tell you. I blush to even write about it. There were men everywhere. Using the weight machines, rolling on the floor, jumping up and clapping, playing basketball in the gym, stretching, doing yoga poses (really) and the sound! Oh, god! There were groans, and oomphs, and Aaaaaaahs! I did blush. It was like a porn movie. Like there were all these male-orgasm sounds around me. Where was the Barry White music?
While I waited for James, I had to sit down and fan myself. I was having palpitations. One man stood to my left. I secretly watched him from the corner of my eye (because I have Super Powers and I can do that). He lifted this barbell that I was certain would give him an instant hernia and as he lifted he groaned “UUUuuaaaaaaAAAAHHHHH! Uh!” I gasped. And then just in front of me, another man orgasmed. He was more of an “Ehhhhhh” which was, admittedly, a little creepy. And then : Oh! Ahh! Grrrrrrr! OOOOOWWWWMMMMMAAAAA! All around me. When James came over I couldn’t even stand.
He asked if I was ready to work out. I said “Oh, yes”.
Now, here was the dilemma: apparently while lifting weights (as I’d observed) one is supposed to make an exclamation that sounds particularly intimate. James put me on this strange machine and handed me some ropey things to squeeze. I lifted my arms above me, pulled down and said “mmmmmmm” and then “Ohhhhhhh” real soft-like. James just looked at me and blinked. “What?” I said. He cleared his throat and said: “Let’s try a little more weight.”
After a while, I stopped moaning. It was too distracting. I was too focused on sticking my chest out so far that my boobs could knock out Little People if they were unlucky enough to be within a foot of me. And I was trying to squat, but couldn’t quite do it because of the RoboBoot. And I was trying to use my shoulder blades and not the wrong muscle group and James kept touching me and all these sexual groans were around me. I couldn’t focus. I needed a cigarette. And I don’t smoke.
An hour later, I hobbled down the stairs, out the elevator, and into the sharp cold air. I’m working out next week Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. I’m bringing my iPod. It will be playing Barry White, and I’ll be smiling.