Needless to say, one of the best parts of working out on campus is the Strom gym. Aside from all the fun of sweat and exhaustion, you get to analyze the different types of people who work out there. So basically you’re getting a good workout and pure entertainment all in one package.
I could talk about the outfits people wear, the various groups of people, the bro-mance couples, the girls who can’t go unless they have a friend with them, or even the hilarious conversations that one is sure to overhear. However, I’ll save all of those things for another rant, because this blog’s attention is strictly dedicated to a certain type of guy.
This is about the guy who thinks he is the god who runs the gym, that every single eye is on him at all times and that Strom was made for him, and only him, to flex, grunt and be admired in for his oh-so-strong and manly stature. This, I call the meat head.
For those of you who haven’t had an encounter with a meat head, let me explain: He’s the guy that always wears a cut-off muscle tee (trimmed a little too far, leaving the unwanted nips exposed), and hangs around the weights acting like he’s about to use one, but instead just stands in front of the mirror admiring his physique. Most importantly, he wears an expression on his face that could be taken as, “I’m so mean and big that you would lose in a fight against me,” or, “Man, I’m so strong that it
kind of hurts.” Either way, he tries to act as hard and mean as he can.
A few days ago, I was sitting on one of the weight benches, resting between sets, and this guy walks up to the one next to me. I immediately began watching him because judging by the size of his “air latts,” I knew it was going to be a good show.
He stood in front of the weights, predictably admired his body, put on the typical expression and then noticed someone’s eyes were upon him (mine). With a big, mean grunt, he picked up a weight that was clearly way too heavy for him. He grunted a few more times, finished his set and then dropped the weight. Then, ever so casually, he stood up to wipe the sweat off of his face with the bottom of his t-shirt, just to flaunt his tightly-flexed abs (if he had clenched any harder, he probably would have pooped his pants).
He was so incredibly obvious that I had to crack a smile, which I guess gave him the idea that I wanted more. The cherry on top? He took a sip of his water bottle, flexed his biceps and looked right at me in the mirror to make sure I didn’t miss it.
At this point I had to walk away because I felt so uncomfortable and completely confused as to why he thought that was acceptable behavior. I guess it satisfied him that the people in the weight area knew he was “invincible.”
Oh boys, someday you’ll understand how to get attention without being so blatant.
