A Breach of Conduct, and of My Shorts

We all know how I feel about shopping for dick at the gay gym. Everyone does it, but a little subtlety goes a long way. A boner in the shower might get you noticed, but what if you see the same guy on the street or on the metro? Do you really want to know every tumescent detail of the new intern down the hall?

Though I might have slight exhibitionistic tendencies, I like to curtail them in public. That's why I was so embarrassed last Wednesday when I was forced to do a full workout sans underwear. In baggy shorts, no less. I had gotten caught in a rainstorm while biking to the gym from work, and the only pair of undergarments on me were on my person. So I ditched 'em. And lemme tell you- it was the most harrowing 45 minutes of my life.

I usually take my Charlie Browns for granted. Unless they're being hit by a tennis ball or jiggled by someone cute, I tend to forget they are there at all. That is, I forget they are there until they fall out of my shorts in a large room packed with horny, sweaty men. Without underwear, this happened approximately ten times over the course of my workout.

On my back for bench press? My junk fell out. Sit ups? My junk fell out. Leaning over to get a sip of water? My junk...ok, I'm not that impressive. But it's been a long time since I felt that vulnerable in a public setting. Remember when you were in lower school and you wore the wrong kind of shirt and everyone made fun of you? I felt like that, except it was my balls that were eating a hardboiled egg for lunch.

So did I learn anything from this? I learned to always bring a spair pare of undies, for one. Other than that, I really don't think I learned anything. And if you want to learn less about my gym experiences, please let me know. I've written a bunch of these already and don't want to overstay my welcome.