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Instead, I’m going to tell you how I ended up falling for a gay guy who I’ve secretly been in love with for over a year. Just to tell you a little about me I guess I’m your average dude that’s into average guy things. If I had to describe myself, I suppose I look a little like that actor Grant Gustin from the Flash except I’m a little older at 35. I’m married, have a wife and two children and live just outside of the Tampa Bay area in Clearwater. I love football and am a diehard Bucs fan. My job is really quite boring – I work for a local municipality in waste management (Yes, I’m a garbage man but I get paid really well).
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So about a year ago, I joined a new gym because I was hoping to find a facility with more free weights. As it turns out, I ended up joining a chain outfit because it just so happened to have what I was looking for. One Monday night after work, I stopped in to do a chest workout. I always try to pump my pecs on Mondays because it’s just part of my routine. I remember loading two 45-lb plates on each side of the universal bar and then trying to execute the reps. I got two lifts out but on the third one, I was struggling. If you have ever lifted weights, you know how scary it can be when you realize you might not be able to finish a rep.Īs I started to panic a bit, a guy who was working out on the bench next to me saw my dilemma. He immediately got up and positioned himself behind me and clutched the bar with his hands, helping me to pull the weights back up to the stand. “I saw you needed some help so I hope you don’t mind. If you ever need a spot, just let me know. I might need the same from you.”Īs we got to chatting a bit, he told me his name was Billy. Super nice guy who apparently had been working out at this gym for several years.
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We swapped stories about our favorite workouts and talked a little bit how crowded it was in the free weight area.īilly is one of the most athletically built dudes I have ever seen. Bathing at a spring on Guadalcanal, 1943.He looks a lot like the well known bodybuilder with a twin, Lewis Harrison ( see not safe for work link). Well, chances are they weren’t creep shots. Some (like the pyramid pose below) were certainly set up for the picture. As for the candid nudity, there are too many of these pictures out there in the world for them to have been made on the sneak, and a World War II soldier who carried a camera (and quite a few did there’s a lot of downtime in a war zone, in between the scenes of mayhem) wouldn’t have been able to hide it easily. Moreover, we forget - and are reminded by an essay in the book by a World War II Marine named Scotty Bowers - about the physical closeness that these fighting men lived with. There’s no privacy in a foxhole showers were rare and often communal, and toilets were open-hole latrines. If you served on the field of combat, you saw other men naked a lot more than you might today, even if you go to the gym after work. As Bowers points out, practical jokes that many of us would now consider invasive - slipping a hand down someone’s pants to tweak his penis, say - were within the realm of just-boys-being-boys high jinks. “Just grab-ass,” they’d say.Įven outside the service, men of that era probably saw each other naked more than we realize. A soldier from a Kansas farm had spent his youth skinny-dipping in the local pond with his friends plenty of outhouses, and even some school bathroom stalls, had more than one seat city high-school kids showered in an open room with nozzles along the wall, sans curtains or dividers, daily after gym class. Tenement kids slept three and four to a bed.
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Most kids - especially poor kids, but everyone - had far less of a sense of physical privacy than we do. It would literally never occur to a lot of these guys that their photos give off sexual heat. To them, sex was for men and women, end of story, and God knows there are no women in these pictures. But of course a significant number of these guys found themselves at least partway up the Kinsey scale, and had experienced in some way sex with other men, whether just a fleeting encounter or something more permanent.