Manly Man

Some crazy bastard wanted to hit me today.


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.


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.


The woman came unglued.


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.


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.


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.


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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