The gym: A place where a combination of endorphin's, testosterone and low cut spandex forms a sort of sexually charged pheromone soup.
To be fair to Virgin Active, it's not only them. The other various brands of gyms are equally as guilty in creating an environment where sexuality sparks like static electricity, but I could not create a snappy title with Planet Fitness or Gold's Gym.
Gymnasiums are essentially a place for people to go and work out. This has many positive effects on peoples lives such as an increase in health, self confidence and the increased success rate when trying to woo the opposite sex (Or the same sex: we all know the creepy locker dweller who lurks around the change-room naked.).
But lets all take a step back and just be honest. Like a overly-greasy KFC chicken meal, the gym is all about self indulgence. A time in our day when we all get high on the miracle of endorphins. As soon as you enter those swipy-card gates, the peacock show begins.
Going to the gym is a bit of an experience for myself. One, because it is a rare occurence, and two, apparantly in order to build up your body and self confidence, you have to experience your hour at the gym being alongside people who make you feel inadequate. These spartan-like warriors grunt and shout at themselves in the mirror for the entire time, bar the quick break to enjoy a slosh of cookie flavour protein shake.
While I quietly go and take seat on one of the various muscle-machines, I have to perform a task that makes me feel as immasculine as a 13-year old girl riding on a unicorn. This is none-other but adjusting the weights. The process of taking that little metal screw thing and putting it into a lighter weight is honestly the lowest point of my day. And it's usually only 6am.
While struggling to complete reps, one can observe the interaction between the social elite of the gym. A body-fat percentage of 0 is the prerequisite for being invited into this club, just by the way.
The delicate dance between the yoga pants and short's create a platform for the real chemistry to happen. The mating calls include words like "bi-cep curls", "body fat index" and the infamous "which flavour USN do you schmaak most?".
Under the surface, biological chemicals are also flirting wildly. Oestrogen and testosterone begin their passionate tango to the drunken rhythm of endorphins. Body language subconsciously sends signals that can either be interpreted as sexually attractive or creepily perverted.
What may seem like a friendly interaction to the untrained eye, is in essence a Sodom and Gomorrah of sexual charged innuendo's and desire.
Like David Attenborough observing praying mantises, a person educated in the art of gym etiquette knows exactly when the dance is completed. The phrase "Wanna go grab a wheat-grass smoothy?" signals the end to the performance.
This primordial puddle of sweat-induced sexuality creates an environment not only for Athletes foot to thrive, but finding dates too...
P.S - Could someone please do a scientific study into why doing bench-pressing makes you wanna finish every sentence with the word "boet" or "china". This keeps me awake at night.
Follow me @byronswiegers on Twitter.
Gooi a comment below china and after this we can go pull some birds at a salad bar, boet!
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