Shower Power

“I am going to wash that man right outa my hair.” – Oscar Hammerstein II

I must say my dreaming life has been a lot more exciting than my waking life these past few nights! I recently cut back my drinking to six nights a week and as a result have been sleeping better then ever - well sort of. WTF pretty much spells the look on my face each morning I wake up nowadays at the thought of what just went down in my head. Saturday night I picnicked with my ex and his boyfriend, Sunday I was murdered by my new friend Maggie (kisses!) and last night, well let’s just say it was rated NC-17.

Speaking of dreams, I have an old nightmare to share with you. Back when I was in the closet, I used to have this horrifying dream that one day I would be lined up execution style next to a group of naked men to prove that I was gay. (I will let you figure out what hard evidence the accuser would base his case on.) Anyways, for years this dream became the boogie monster that haunted me before every high school gym class and swimming lesson I attended.

Nowadays I have managed to get over my fear of being out-ed. Believe you me, I don’t need to be lined-up anymore to prove that I’m a raging mo, my gym bag screams flaming.

But even now when I work out, I still can’t manage to shake the nerves that accompany me into the heaven and hell of my gay life: the change room.

And unfortunately for me, those nerves always take the same shape and size.

You can't tell from this photo, but my gym bag is actually on fyah.Now I know what you are thinking, and yes, I admit my hormones have been off the charts these last few weeks; but allow me to reassure you, this reaction has nothing to do with being turned on and everything to do with a residual deep-seated psychological paranoia. In case you don’t believe me, I would also like to submit the fact that I don’t wear my glasses while changing and am therefore blind as a bat.

So, where am I going with all this you ask? Good question. Now that you are privy to my embarrassingly huge predicament (I wish), you can understand the sheer terror I experienced last week when my landlord slipped a note under my door, telling me that I would not have water to shower during the day from now until Friday. So reeking of gin this morning, I was left with no other choice this afternoon but to shower at the gym.

I am telling you, you have you never seen a pale redhead get in and out of a communal shower as fast as I did today. My heart beating a million miles a minute, I channeled every deep yoga breath I could in order to stop the blood from pumping through my veins. Removing my towel, I pictured sights that no person should ever have to develop. Turning on the shower, I recited the mantra my old friend gave me to solve another similar-related problem: dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies. And just when I thought I was done for and the gun was about to go off to seal my fate, I turned the knob 180 degrees to freezing cold.

I am happy to report that I made it out alive and slightly refreshed. And that is just another misadventure of Rugged Fox.