So I'm not much of a gym goer even though I love working out. I'm the type of person who likes to work out at home because I can do it for free, it makes my workouts seem shorter, and because I never liked the feeling I got when I was at the gym and felt under dressed (why do people feel the need to look so good while they're exercising).
Lately, I've been taking my nephew to swimming lessons at my sister's gym. As much as I love spoiling my nephew and giving him my praise, there's a guy there who demands my attention. He has been there the last three times I've gone and holy fudge, he will be the inspiration for my next book's love interest. He has that tall, lean, muscular look. Don't ask me what his face looks like, because I can't take my eyes off of his lower half long enough to tell you. He must shave, or wax, or maybe he was born hairless, but his skin is so smooth I want to tackle him to the ground and start rubbing my cheek against his pec, and maybe lick him all over too.
Of course, I don't do this. I pretend to watch my nephew while sneaking in glances and force myself to look away before I make him feel like I've felt on many occasion while passing through a construction site (not that I pass through construction sites, ever, but you know what I mean). In the real world, if I determined my sex life by the way my date looks without his clothes on, I would probably feel empty inside (after he put his clothes back on and headed back to the gym). Now, if this same guy happened to be reading Hemingway as he looked so bitingly delicious, that would be a different story. This is what makes being a writer so great. I can turn this sexy guy into a story character and give him all of the unrealistic attributes I want him to have and then have my way with him in my imagination. If only I could earn a living doing this, life would be perfect.
