“I don’t believe in lifting more often than every third day or twice a week. I think part of weightlifting is recovery time. Plus, I only lift heavy once a week. You know, squat, deadlift, bench press. The other day it’s light: machines, dumbbells. I am starting to get worried that if I do too much lower-body work, that I will pull a hamstring running and be out of commission.”
She was sitting on the end of the bench at the University gym after finishing a set of Bench Presses.
“I lied to you, Botendaddy.”
She said, wiping her glistening face and stinky feminine, smelly, girlie, shaved armpits with her aromatic towel.
“Lied to me? You know I don’t care if anyone lies to me or not. I’m just glad to make conversation. What is truth anyway? I love a tall tale, like Pecos Bill or Walter Mitty or the Big Fish guy.”
“No, I f*&king hated his guts.”
“My ex. The one who walked out on me seven years ago. I hated him more and more every day. Even before I went to the war. He criticized me constantly. He was condescending. I was avoiding him more and more. He was verbally controlling, arrogant snob, piece of sh&t. Always made me feel stupid and less-than. He made me feel ugly.”
“I’m sorry that you went through that.”
“He’s the one I was supposed to marry. So I could satisfy my family, his family. I always felt inferior and like I was the junior partner in our so-called relationship. When I was wounded, he acted like I inconvenienced him and like it was my fault for ever joining the USAF. He could have flown to Landstuhl with my family, but he had a big case. I love the Air Force. Why should I have to be ashamed of it? I think it’s the greatest institution in America. F*ck him, that g^ddamned coward. I was so relieved when he left. I just couldn’t see anyone after that. I was inferior goods anyway by then. I wasn’t healed yet.”
She started doing military presses with the 45 pound bar. Her bare midriff was spectacular. The young men in the gym who weren’t *gay* were staring at her.
“So, I see that you lift lower body one day, upper body the next. You lift four times per week? Well, I guess you’re young yet. I do everything in one day, but I need more recovery time than you do.”
“I dyed my hair black for many years because he liked blondes. I didn’t even want my real hair color. I blamed my parents for introducing me to that Ivy League, preppie f&ckt4rd in the first place. I told my mom she subjected me to several years of emotional abuse and hating myself for this sh&tty creep just so our family could look good. Hell, my brother and sister married right, had kids, so I didn’t have to have a ‘normal’ life.”
She did some shoulder shrugs with the barbell.
“You know, he actually called me yesterday, my Botendaddy? He called me! His Susie sunshine fiancée left him. Imagine that! I told him how small his thing was. I told him everything you did to me in the most graphic, erotic detail and how I loved every second of it. I told him that I was with a real man now. He started getting upset and trying to put me down again. After seven years! Then I started yelling: Is it in yet? Is it in yet? Is it in yet? He hung up, thank god.”
She moved on to corner rows with about 50 pounds. I was watching her from behind. I almost had a heart attack when I saw the reverse cameltoe.
“Librarian girl? You’ve done it! Make fun of a man’s pee-pee and he’ll never come near you or anyone you know ever, ever again!”
The young guys in the gym were helping her with the weights, being very polite. The young women in the gym were becoming red-faced and angry at the attention the librarian was getting. Everyone called me Sir at the gym, they thought I was a professor or someone important anyway.
“I’m starting to be OK. Now, finally. I’m going back to Washington. You won’t see me for a few weeks, unless I stalk one of your 5k’s again. You giant, lumbering sloth. You hairy Yeti, disgusting, drooling, Sasquatch. You hideous carnival sideshow freak. You reeking, malodorous, slobbering ghoul, with your stupid half-a55ed advice. I am madly, passionately, in 19th century tragic-romantic love with you. If you don’t make love to me endlessly tonight I will pour molten lead down your throat until you die in shrieking hellfire. You miserable old, half-dead corpse.”
We went to shower in our respective shower rooms. I met her outside in front of the building. We went for a walk by the lake.
Peace be the Botendaddy