I've run in grade school, I've run in highschool.
I've run in races, I've run a marathon.
I've run with pinkeye, I've run with Iliotibial Band Syndrome, I've run with a broken heart.
One thing I haven't done, however, was run FROM anything...well, with the exception of the one time in 2nd grade when I was almost kidnapped at the bus stop, or the other time when I was 15 and the Sex offender on PCP tried to attack me.
OK, let me rephrase...I've never, in my ADULT life, ran from anything.
The other day, however, I wanted to run away as fast as I could...yep, just like a little bitch.
Why did I have the urge to run away might you ask?
I was afraid. I have no problem admitting it... I'm afraid of muscular black men in the Gym.
Now hold up before you start going all "Show's gone soft, what happened to Mr. Pistol Wavin New Haven?" on me, let me state that they don't scare me because they are bigger than me or I think they will fu*k me up.
Quite frankly I'm a little athletic and not a petite string bean myself. What scares me about these dudes is that I can never tell if they are engaging in friendly conversation or they are trying to solicit me into a secret world of downlow eroticism. No homo. Wait, yes homo! Not in a good way.
1. Black men on the East Coast, home of the "Mean Mug" or "Ice Grill" stare, aren't all that friendly. This aint Georgia ni**a. That being said, someone engaging in friendly conversation is NOT the norm...it should be, but it's not.
2. An added element of leeriness comes about simply by virtue of the fact that men are showering and changing around each other. Balls and Johnson's swinging everywhere. no homo. LOL. The natural inclination is to say "is this dude looking at my junk?"
3. I have had a bad experience where a dude did come onto me in the gym..so perhaps I am a bit paranoid.
Show: Hell no.
C4: Tell it!
So a new guy, who was undergoing a gym trial, starts chatting me up. Pause. Of course, he was black and muscular, and around my age, maybe a little older. His voice didnt have that gay, "hi my name is twan" type of twang, so I thought nothing of it. Actually, it was post work-out so I was rushing into the shower and didnt have a chance to give the precursory "Yea, me and my girlfriend ______(Insert whatever made up story here) " just so homie knew wasn't no funny bunny stuff going on.
When I stepped out the shower in a towel he was still there, and said some small talk. Next thing I know he says, "Oh man, sorry about that...happens sometimes." Now I have no idea what this ni**a is talking about, until i turn around to get my T-shirt and see this mother flocka standing there buttnaked with his towel on his neck and a raging hard on!
I quickly shot an "I'll holla. One" made and exit. He got the hint.
Now....why didn't I kick his ass?
Im not homophobic but should've kicked his ass because that was just rude. I didn't because I'm not getting in a fist fight with a naked man. That has only happened once in my life, with Boozay, and at least we weren't both naked. Another story for another day...sigh.
Well there you have it. I've Finally gotten personal on the blog. Exposed my inner-most fears...feel free to exploit them like the assholes you are, or play the sympathetic role and give me a titty to lean on.