The Peakwick Papers by Charles Swellickens
Part 3
I’m standing in the queue at the coffee shop around the corner from where I’m working. In front of me there is a group of three young women. The one who’s talking is, I guess from the accent, Brazilian. And she’s telling her friends about her session in the gym the day before. And not just telling, she’s showing too, miming a set of one-armed dumbbell curls, complete with sound effects.
‘I was like this… psssshhhhhht … psssshhhhht … psssshhhhht … psssshhhhht…’
She’s really putting her all into this set. And though I’m pretty sure her friends have got the idea now, she just keeps on going…
‘… psssshhhhht … psssshhhhht … psssshhhhht … psssshhhhht … psssshhhhht …’
Finally, her friends (who are also foreign, but not Brazilian) start commenting on their activities in the gym, and Miss Brazil stops with the sound effects. I was far too focused on her by now to remember exactly what her friends said, but it was along the lines of sticking to cardio and avoiding weights because they don’t want to get actual muscles and look manly blah blah.
To which Miss Brazil replies, ‘Oh no. I want to be BIIIIG.’ And just in case her friends haven’t understood, she flexes one arm (covered, unfortunately, though she wasn’t obviously muscular, it would have been nice to have had confirmation of that) and with her other hand demonstrates where she would like her bicep to reach.
About 25 and half inches I reckon.
Her friends laugh. Slightly nervously as I recall.
‘I LOVE to be muskle,’ she says. ‘Be BIIIIG strong muskle woman.’
So her English isn’t the greatest, but who cares? She’s communicating, isn’t she? And you can’t fault the ATTITUDE, can you?
No laughter from her friends this time.
‘I go to gym, I…’ (miming again) ‘psssshhhhht … psssshhhhht … and…’ (indicating lack of muscle on her arm) ‘nothing.’
Her friends are apparently speechless.
She turns away from her friends slightly and our eyes meet, momentarily, but they definitely meet. I become aware that I have probably been staring at her the whole time.
‘You might want to lift heavier weights,’ I say.
What’s happening to me? When did I become this cool?
She realises it’s her I’m speaking to because I’m still just looking at her.
‘Sorry?’ she says, leaning towards me with a smile.
‘Heavier weights.’ And I mime a curl.
‘Ah.’
‘It’s not easy for most women to gain muscle. Even when they lift weights regularly. But if you try heavier weights but less repetitions…’ (more miming) ‘maybe…’
She’s smiling and nodding, genuinely interested. I may as well keep going…
‘And you need to eat a lot of protein.’
Her eyes widen. I’m not sure how much she’s understood of what I said, but she’s definitely understood the word ‘protein’.
‘Yes, but in England is expensive meat. Meat for protein.’
Just the one alternative source of protein flashes through my mind, but I’m not about to mention it, so there’s a little pause. But I’m still smiling, still looking straight at her.
‘I am student here. UEA. From BraaZIL. Fernanda.’
‘David’.
And just as we finish shaking hands, her friends reach the front of the queue and call her forward. A last smile, and Fernanda is back with them again and I’m getting called forward by another barista.
And that happened last week.
So, why, I wonder, on this occasion, was I able to hold it together. Where was the adrenaline, The Madness, this time?
I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot since last Thursday and have come to the conclusion that it was probably a combination of factors.
First, Fernanda wasn’t actually muscular. I definitely found it a turn-on that she wanted to be, and even more so because she was so vocal about it and cared nothing for what her friends thought about that. But though she was tall, slim and attractive, she didn’t have the muscles (yet).
Secondly, I think the fact that I am somewhat older than in the previous experiences I have related this week played a part. I’m more confident, have more life experience, and am generally able to handle most situations better than I could as a younger man.
And third, I’m married. And having been so for over six months I can definitely say that having that little ring on my finger has definitely changed how I look at other women and also how they look at me. Again, I’m not quite sure exactly how it has changed things, but it’s noticeable. For me, I suppose it’s a mindset thing. I might find other women attractive, and though that doesn’t rule out a look or even a gentle flirt, there’s no way I’m going to actually do anything more. And maybe for women it acts as a kind of guarantee that this is the case, a sign that I am not a predator! And this adds up to both me and her feeling more comfortable.
Whatever the reasons, The Madness stayed away. I’m not kidding myself that I’m free, that I’ve got it licked, that it will never strike again. And I’m not saying that you can avoid The Madness by getting older, getting married and then only talking to women who are not obviously muscular (although that’ll probably work). I’m just saying that for once, it stayed away, and it feels good that it did.
Female Muscle Slave 