Manly Man

Some crazy bastard wanted to hit me today.

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She was swimming (sinking, actually) in lane two looking like her body fat was about 0.000000000001% and her hugely muscled arms stuck out from her even more muscly body so swimming was a chore.

Occasionally she’d look over after a particularly harrowing lap, compose herself and give me that special “come hither” look that unfortunately looked more like the “I’m gonna get you” look.

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Once, after some particularly confusing body language that consisted of pushing herself halfway out of the pool and looking over at me “seductively” (as seductively as one can while wearing a track suit in the pool) I giggled nervously.

Mistake.

The woman came unglued.

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I think she thought I was laughing at her but any excuse I had would have been drowned out in her steroid fueled rage. 

She came after me like a hungry grizzly bear on a bunny.

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Swimming away in sheer terror I couldn’t help but think how insane this scenario was.  I’d just come in, sleepily rubbing my eyes, to swim like any other morning and now this was happening. 

I was certainly awake.

Jumping out at the far end of the pool, I ran toward the men’s locker room but she beat me there by a couple of steps and I ran straight into her outstretched paw.

In the grip of my fight or flight syndrome as she reached back to punch the soul directly out of my body I did what any red blooded American man would do in that situation.

I wet my shorts and threw up on myself.

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Seriously, what girl wants to touch a guy who does that? 

She released her grip on me with a cry of disgust and I escaped into the relative safety of the men’s locker room.

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I’m currently waiting for her to come crashing through the cinder block wall like some deranged Kool Aid psycho.

We’ll see…

 

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