"Gregory Martin," she'd say, pointing her finger at me. "Do you remember what you learned in Sunday School today?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I'd reply, meekly, in my very high, squeaky voice. "Follow the golden rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Mama would always mouth the words with me, like she was some ventriloquist's dummy. Of course, it was hard to be kind to strangers in Hendersonville because everybody knew everybody else. But I always tried to follow the golden rule anyway. Sometimes, I think, Mama would say I go too far.
In a drowsy haze, I rolled over and felt a warm body to my left. With my eyes still shut, I set my hand wandering 'round to feeling warm skin, hard, shaped muscles and ...Jeezus 'n Mary, who do I know with all this hair!?! My fingers gingerly tiptoed around as I forced myself to wake up. My hands didn't recognize the landscape, so I opened my eyes. As they uncrossed, I saw red through the blurry haze. Red hair. The sleeping giant had red hair -- everywhere.
I think his name was.......Don? No...Bill? I scanned my memory, but my brain was still fuzzy. Yeah, maybe "Bill." I rubbed my face with my hands as the body rolled on his back and snored, loudly.
I sighed. The evening had started off well enough... I guess. I was at the gym finishing a quick weight session after my last client, when this guy asked me to spot him on the bench press. He stunned me with his largeness. He looked like some Viking. His chest tapered down to a trim waist, the perfect upside down pyramid. And his massive arms and legs were sculpted perfectly.
I have this theory, y'see. The way a man takes care of himself says alot about who he is. If a man seeks perfection in one thing, like his body - he must be perfect in alot of other ways. Right?
"Greg, man, you can't fall into bed over every guy you meet just because he's beautiful, " I hear Andrew saying in my head.
ĪGet out of my head, Andrew,ā I think. ĪI'm in bed with somebody!ā
He continues, "You can't equate looking good with being good."
"I don't, not every guy! But this guy... He was so...so...perfect!"
"That's your problem, Greg. You work at a gym. They all look perfect."
I stretched and yawned, thinking of how to leave gracefully. 'How would Andy say a polite good-bye in this situation?' I thought. Well, he wouldnāt these days, because his bachelor days were over now. Heās moving in with the boyfriend. MOVING!
Oh shit! What time is it?! Damn, 10:00am. I was supposed to be at Andy's place at 8:00 to help him with his garage sale! Crap.
I scribbled a hasty good-bye and high-tailed it over to Andy's place leaving the Viking snoring. 
