Wednesday, April 02, 2003
Get In The Swim
In the grand scheme of things, this may seem unimportant, but I lost my Speedos yesterday. Ideally, they should have been ripped off my thighs in a clinch of tide-crashing passion straight out of From Here to Eternity. Instead, I left them hanging in the showers after an early-morning twenty lengths. I never even missed them till arriving home later that evening.
And me and my Speedos, we look good together. Their Lycra hugs my bum in a way no other swimwear has ever done before or since. It flattens those bits which need to be flattened, and accentuates… well, you get the picture. They just fit. Perfectly. I wasn't too worried though. In that All-Gym-Bunnies-Together comradely spirit, someone was bound to hand them over to the poolside staff. And tomorrow, me and my Speedos would be an item once again.
So, it's 7 a.m. at the info desk this morning. Sorry, mate, nothing's come here. I check the bins. They might have been chucked in there. Nothing. I even look in the showers. Maybe, just maybe. No Speedos. Which means only one thing: Someone is wearing them.
This is creepy. Somewhere out there, someone is swimming around in my Speedos. Someone is slipping his, no doubt, gym-toned, sun-bronzed, taut, V-shaped swimmer's physique into my Speedos. Someone is gliding manfully, with firm, sure, elegant strokes, through the water, attracting along the way admiring glances from whichever gender he's most interested in. In my Speedos, Godammit!
Take them off! Give them back to me! They're mine!
Humph. Frankly, I hope they give him a bad case of the crabs.