Chapter 2: At the Gym
After I had signed up at the gym, I experienced a period of doubt. It seemed to me to be a question of whether I believed in myself—whatever that might mean—or was simply a coward. Part of me was ready to admit the latter, of course. But that was the defeatist, the guy who wanted life to be easy. The other part of me was the part that wouldn’t let that scene I had witnessed—of pleasurable heterosexual exchange—to fade.
It took me two weeks to summon up enough courage to make my first visit to the gym. During that time, I bought a gym bag like the ones I had seen the two men carry, and gym shorts and shoes. (They were quite explicit that the latter were not to be worn on the streets.) Thus equipped, I was more confident. Still, when I went through the front doors, I
