Monday, August 7, 2017

The 12 Cute Guys of Summer on the Plains

Plains, August, 2017

One of the reasons I hate summertime is that there's nowhere to go.  Unless I go out to lunch or to the gym, I can spend the whole day without seeing or speaking to anyone.  No cute guys to look at, no human contact of any sort until Bob gets home at 6:30 pm.

So yesterday I walked to campus, even though classes won't start for another two weeks.  Score!

1. The library is virtually empty except for cute undergrad staffing the circulation desk.  I check out a book on Baudelaire and try to get him involved in a conversation on French symbolism.

2. I run into the new social work professor, who agreed to "check out the gym" with me at lunchtime.  In his 30s, tall, smooth, a little skinny for my tastes, no sausage sighting, but a rather spectacular bulge.  I'm guessing Mortadella.

3. At the gym, I have a conversation about biceps with a thick-muscled Asian guy in his 20s.

4. I don't swim, generally, but the social work professor wants to see the pool.  Physique sighting of an undergrad athlete with a round baby face, a smooth chest, and well developd abs.

5-6. I always like to cruise the guy who runs the student union cafeteria, a recent graduate in political science, short, buffed, with a beard and a stunning smile.  Today he's not working, but he introduces me to his friend, who will be starting in the fall: even shorter, black haired, a little chunky.  Maybe some sharing in the future?

7.  I walk home, stopping at the antique shop and the used bookstore downtown.  There is a guy browsing who says he's a writer.  His biggest influences are Charles Bukowski, John Updike, and Thomas Pynchon.

Rather a heterosexist reading list, but at least the guy has a chest and some thick biceps.

8-10. At the park, I watch three buffed shirtless guys playing basketball.

11. Two blocks from my house, I meet a very enthusiastic dog and his boy: slim, Hispanic, with a weird topknot hairstyle.   A very brief conversation, no phone number exchanged, but he lives two blocks away, so who knows?

12. Bob gets home and, as usual, wants to spend an hour in the bedroom before starting dinner, so we'll be eating about 9:00 pm.

Not that I mind.

See also: A Week of Beefcake and Bulges on the Plains

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