THE GYM is gay

It's not good enough to simply exercise anymore. You need to put yourself out there. You need to frame your body and present it to a room full of muscular, sweaty men you don't even know. You need techno music blasting in from the speakers, barely covering over the sounds of grunting and groaning as they haul up massive weights above their heads, gripping tight on the hard steel bar. No, it's not good enough to simply stay fit, you have to have mirrors all over the walls so when your doing crunches or running on treadmills you're never one quick glance away from seeing someone at the other end of the room bending over to lift some dumbbells, or fix their spandex.

Even the clothing for gyms are filled with homoerotic tendencies. Everyone has it; that tight mono-coloured shirt that turns your otherwise nonexistent nipples into perfect full scale models for ancient Greek battle armor. That same shirt which has the Nike logo conveniently placed on your chest so to invite a glance over your puffing pecks, as you cycle, pondering how many people have heard this exact same techno dance remix song in a "nightclub".

The gayest workout machine in the gym (and the solid proof that the gym has some form of homoerotic feel to it) is the ski machine. A workout for your arms and legs. It is essentially a step-up machine with dildos. No man will spend anymore than a few minutes on this machine, solely because it leaves you with only two uncomfortable options; either hold on to the dildos and have a simulated two-on-one session or let go and simply work out your legs while two dildos are thrusting themselves back and forth in front of you.

And another common scene in the gym is the alpha-male. Most definitely the most self-denying out of of all the possible closet homosexuals in the gym. This is the gym who walks around with a tank-top (normally black and with a low neck cut, showing a lot of chest), short hair spiked with gel, sitting on top of a square head, which is amazingly connected straight to the torso with no neck in between, often called Rick or Tony, and can not help but hit on women who are obviously smaller than he is. Ladies and gentlemen, this man is gay has the day is long. He's a top, he's a selfish lover, and genuinely believes he has taste in music.

The male changing room has a massive elephant in it. Their are only two types of men who enter this room. The first are the gay gaze diverters. These are the men with the philosophy no-harm-no-foul. They keep their eyes either on the ceiling or the ground, but never below the shoulders or above the knees. This is for two reasons; nothing is scarier than the thought you cant enter a room without whispers going around, and the other is the fact that when you're down to you're undies, it would be amazingly hard to hide a boner. The other type of man is the type who believes the best defense is offence. He strides around the changing room naked, chuckling to himself, proud of his god given gifts, talking to random strangers about sports and the score of the match, while he butt-flosses himself with a complimentary gym towel which he playful uses as a whip others, chuckling away, all the while saying to himself "You're the one looking, not me. That makes you gay. Ergo, I am not gay. I am King Straight in a sea of lost souls."

Although, it would be strange that a straight person would know what "ergo" means.