So, I’ve officially started going to a gym. It’s the least punk thing I can think of, but ironically it was a tirade by Mr. Rollins that finally convinced me to go. And, of course, I feel great.

All that being said, I was contemplating the gym culture while on the treadmill, and one thing that really sticks out to me is the old cliche of a guy or lady running off with someone they met at the gym. I may have even known a married couple growing up who ended their marriage this way.

In the past I’ve alway thought of this as ridiculous. Like some mannish, tanned blonde chick runs away with a closeted homosexual bodybuilder. But now that I’m actually going to a gym, I can see where the cliché comes from.

On some level, a gym is like walking into someone’s exploratory sexual expirience. All lthe flexing, stretching, and spreading is ridiculously (and unintentionally) sexual in nature. Some of the poses those Nautulus machines put you in are right out of the Marquis de Sade’s wet dream. I’m not giving credence to infidelity in any form, but as I grow up I see my life showing me the otherside to what used to be seemingly black & white stories.

If I had a friend who was either under sexed or otherwise expirience difficulty in his marriage, I’d definitely warn him to sort it out or just go jogging, that gym scene is a slippery slope!