I have discussed “Likes to be naked guy” before. There is a generation
a bit older than I am (I am 40), that grew up with more of a Caligula’s palace
view of locker rooms. Men between the ages of 48-dead. These men are tough, and
surly, and do not understand the younger generation. I feel like they all look
like Marlboro men, or Kenny Rogers. A
lot of them have grey beards, tucked in polos, and white off brand tennis shoes.
Others have a dirty baseball cap, and gaudy t shirt, with unsettling tight
jeans. Both versions are guys guys, and use accidentally offensive language,
and most importantly… both versions are aggressively nude in the locker room.
“Likes to be naked guy” roams the locker room nude, greeting
newcomer’s dong first with a smile. Powdering their undercarriage at the sink,
and shaving, all while wearing nothing more than flip flops.
I am proud to call many of these men my friend. Most are
respectful of personal space, and I am not uncomfortable around penises. I like
a little ballyhoo. I also feel I am a bit of an old man myself. I tend to
relate to these throwbacks of a bygone era. I like muscle car chase movies, and
Waylon Jennings, and exaggerating tales of high school heroics, and I really
love exposing myself in a semi appropriate setting. But today, things went too
far.
When I entered the locker room, I noticed that a new “Likes
to be naked guy” was in the same locker bay as the locker I had put my clothes
in. This dude was aggressively naked, even for the normal naked guy standards.
He was making quick, unpredictable movements, like an old grey haired bunny. He
also wasn’t sitting on a towel, which I take exception to. Don’t go bhole to
bench (this is sort of my motto). He also had all of his stuff spread out
through out the locker bay, so I couldn’t get to my locker.
Being a nice guy, and having just had an intense workout, I
decided just to give him time and go shower while he got dressed. I took my
sweet ass time showering, and applying deodorant, and singing power ballads,
but when I got back… he was in the exact same spot as where I left him. Clothes
strewn about, and bhole to bench.
The novelty had worn off. I was no longer feeling like this
old timey fuckers kindred spirit. Therefore, I furrowed my brow and tried to
scoot past him. I did the sideways foot shuffle with my ass mere millimeters
away from the lockers, while being careful not to give Nudity McRudenstein an
inadvertent back rub. As I was starting to pass him, he looked over his
shoulder and glared while he said “excuse you”. This... this… well… it didn’t sit
right. I gave him more than enough time to get dressed while I did my own
abbreviated gallivanting. I don’t take shitty exchanges like this well. I can
not shake off rude comments and go about my way. I am wired to take instant offense, and set into antics that will undoubtedly make things worse. Today was
no different.
When I reached my locker, I grabbed all of my stuff, and
instead of racing to put on my clothes and leave, I dumped all of my stuff out
of my backpack onto the bench next to my new friend. I grabbed my razor, and a
towel, and went off to do some nude shaving. On my way out of the locker bay, I
made sure to drop my shaving cream can, and bent over to pick it up in a not so
concealed way. I know he looked. I know he was not pleased.
After shaving, I stood and picked food from my teeth for a while,
played the drums on my tummy in the mirror, I started chatted with a friend for
a while. A very respectful friend who keeps his eyes on his own paper. I was
explaining to him, unnecessarily loudly, how I hate when the old nude dudes don’t
know to keep their junk off of public things. That’s the first rule of life. “If you don’t own it,
keep your penis off it”. I don’t care if he humps every inch of everything he
owns. Keep your stuff off the community property.
After 10-15 minutes, I grew tired of my own naked antics,
and it was a bit chilly, so I wandered back to the bay of lockers, and saw that
my nude rival was still there. Only now he was wearing black socks, only black
socks, and was standing facing me. We stood and locked eyes, and I could hear
the theme from “The Good The Bad and The Ugly” in my head. That trademark whistle was blowing
through my eyes. This was a showdown of good v evil. Hell, he was even wearing
black socks in lieu of a black cowboy hat. We stood locking eyes for what felt
like an eternity. All the other patrons of the locker room ran for cover. The
first one to move aside lost. It is a dance as old as time itself. After what
felt like an eternity, I started to slowly walk toward my locker. Eyes still
fixed deep into his eyes, guns drawn. Then, right as I approached the bay, he
turned to the side to let me pass.
This was more than just winning a battle; it was like
winning the war. I felt as though I not only bested a member of the previous
generation, but it felt like the passing of the torch. It was a non verbal acknowledgment
that my generation was taking over. We were setting the standards. This was a
big win for me. I cant think of a better way to end a great workout, than
winning this gun fight.
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