Fitness à la Gay

14Sep09

What a goal to have, but will I ever get there?

I enter my room with the intention of doing some weight training, by using the exercise ball and 3kg dumbbells that I have been given by my parents. I plug my earphones into my phone and start playing some music that I think will be good to work out to. Then, I like the song so much that I start singing, then dancing, then putting on an entire performance in my bedroom. Ten minutes later, I’m still in my own daydream of being in a music video, and the mirror in my bedroom doesn’t help matters. Soon, my boyfriend calls me, and I’m chatting with him. Afterwards, I take out a magazine and flick through it on my bed. Then, I turn on my laptop and start writing this piece. Two hours ago, I entered my room and wanted to do some weights. It never happened.

I’ve written before about my enthusiasm about wanting to get fit, wanting to get a decent body and wanting to get that six-pack in time for my holidays to Spain with my boyfriend. We leave for Spain on Thursday, and I still look the same – more or less – than how I looked at the beginning of the summer. Despite a few trips to a gym in the city centre, a good few attempts at jogging, I never made exercise enough of a priority to improve my fitness. I’m annoyed at myself, a little embarrassed and very disappointed.

I recently went for a trip to a golf driving range with my Dad, and I quickly realised one thing about me and sports. I’m not crap at sports because I’m gay, but I’m crap at sports because my father is also crap at sports. I never had anyone to learn about sport from, I never had a male role model while growing up who was interested in sport or fitness, and therefore I never learnt about it. When I was five, I shied away from football – the one sport that was played at lunchtime in school – because no-one ever explained the rules of the game to me. So when I once tried to play with the rest of the kids, I got shouted at for breaking the ‘handball’ rule, and it put me off playing because I didn’t understand what I had done wrong. That was one of the key events in my childhood that made me shy away from sport, the effect of which was so influential that to this day, I am still fairly uncomfortable being in the presence of a group of straight guys.

Sexuality shouldn’t come into play (pardon the pun) when it comes to sports, but sometimes it does. Gay guys aren’t known to have an active role in mainstream sport; where are the openly gay football players in the English Premier League? Where are the openly gay Gaelic Football or Hurling players? Are there any gay players on the Irish rugby team? There would have to be at least one gay player on each team, but nothing is heard of it. Why? Because gay guys aren’t known to be great at sports. They’re known to be good at shopping, at gossiping, at dancing, at dressing themselves, and at socialising. That’s about it. Of course, there would be many, many an exception, but ask your Joe Soap and that’s what would come to mind.

It is possible for even the sportiest of guys not to like every sport, however. Bruce LaBruce makes a great judgement of soccer in his column, however;

                “There must be something about the pure monotony of it, the endless back-and-forth repetition, that induces some sort of mass hypnosis in the audience.”

I’d have to agree. I could never really get into football too much; there was never enough action in any match for me. Rugby, however, is far more likely to get my blood running. The Irish rugby team have recently proved themselves as one of the greatest national teams in Europe, and I’d easily consider myself as a fan. The Six Nations competition is my favourite sporting event.

I move from LaBruce’s column in Gay Times Magazine to the back pages, where the escorts’ pictures and details are. One always stands out at me – Sean. 22 years old, with a killer smile and a washboard stomach to boot. What strikes me about him, though, is that he seems to be exactly my build; 5’7” and slender – if I were a girl, I’d be called petite – that kind of build.

His picture makes me think; why can’t I have that body? What motivates him regularly enough to work out in the gym to get and maintain that level of fitness, when I’m lucky if I even work out once a week??

Work is part of the problem. If I have any time off from my summer job at the café, it’s usually spent with the boyfriend. I wouldn’t be up for working out with him, although calories may be burnt during certain other activities…! He has asked me once or twice to work out with him using his home gym, but working out beside him would make me feel too inadequate beside his Adonis-like physique.  

With that in mind, I’ve heard people say that men ‘let it go’ once they get into a relationship. In other words, they give up on the gym, the fitness etc. once they find a partner. I could have that as an excuse, but my boyfriend’s fitness habits haven’t changed at all since meeting me. He’s still a fitness freak; 6’2”, broad-shouldered with a noticeable six-pack. If I didn’t find him so attractive, I’d kill him out of envy.

But still, I look at the exercise ball in the corner of my room. I look at my dumbbells under my chair. No desire to just pick them up and go for it. That’s the way I always have been; surrounded by sports (mainly while at school) yet without any desire to take part.

As usual, though, I self-analyse unnecessarily. I should do nothing more than turn off my laptop, pick up the weights and get to work on my work-out.

Which is what I’ll do now… hopefully.

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