Chicka bow chicka bow chicka bow-bow

For a substantial chunk of time on Sunday, I somehow found myself viewing my life as a series of porn moments waiting to happen. You know how some movies and TV shows use alternate timelines to establish humor elements (like Ally Mcbeal getting arrows shot through her chest)? Yeah, it's kinda like that.

***


[Photo still from the film Beach Babes 2: Cave Girl Island. Yeah, don't ask, I dunno either.]

I headed out to a grassy park near where I live just to lie out for a bit. The good thing about living where I live is there is no shortage of hot guys. On hot summer days, these hot guys tend to run around shirtless, either playing frisbee or football, or just lying around looking hot. (Actually, while I enjoy looking at them, part of me also thinks they're a bit arrogant. Such is the double standard of my life.)

I sat down on a bench with a book which I barely intended to actually read. Instead, my eyes scanned the park to see if there was anyone to lock on to.

After a few minutes, I noticed someone entering the park from my right. He didn't look around much and sat down on the bench about 10 feet away from me. I have no idea he was doing. He wasn't carrying a book or paper or anything. Unlike me, he made no attempt to disguise the fact that he was just sitting there looking at people.

Eventually, conversation was struck up:

Me: Lazy day today, huh?
Him: Yeah. Nice out.
Me: Kinda hot, but I guess you get used to that in this city.
Him: I just moved here a few months ago.
Me: Oh. I've been here for a quite a few years now.
Him: Is it always this humid?
Me: In the summer? Uh, basically yeah.

And then in my mind the rest of the conversation played out:

Him: So you live around here?
Me: Yeah, a few blocks over. You?
Him: Over in the [name of building].
Me: Ah cool. Nice building.
Him: Yeah... nice views. Wanna see it?
Me: Sure, why not.

Chicka bow, chicka bow, chicka bow bow...

***



I went up to the roof of my building to lounge around in the pool for the little bit after spending a good portion of the day outdoors in oppressive humidity. I donned shorts and a t-shirt, grabbed a towel, and headed upstairs.

I expected to be greeted when I opened the door by at least a handful of other residents who had the same idea I did. I was wrong. The only person I saw on the roof was the lifeguard, who was clearly somewhat bored.

I eased my way into the pool, making the poor lifeguard work for his money (i.e., I made him actually sit there near the pool and watch me, rather than wander around the roof doing ... well, who knows what). Eventually, I decided to talk to him briefly.

Me: So, have you ever had to jump in and save anyone?
Lifeguard: Not yet.
Me: So I guess you've never used that stabilizing board either? [There's one of those boards with foam pads to support both sides of your head sitting in the corner of the pool area.]
Lifeguard: No.
Me: So where are you from?
Lifeguard: Serbia.
Me: Oh, cool.

Keep in mind, my lifeguard isn't as hot as the guy whose picture is up here, and his grasp of the English language isn't perfect.

The rest of the conversation is imagined:

Me: So, if I were drowning, would you jump in and save me?
Lifeguard: Yes.
Me: Would you jump in like that, or are those breakaway sweatpants you're wearing?
Lifeguard: They're breakaway. Want a demonstration?

Chicka bow, chicka bow, chicka bow bow...

***

[Photo still from the movie Adored: Diary of a Male Porn Star.]

I got out of the pool after about half an hour of, well, just sitting around in the water, and made my way back downstairs. Towel wrapped around my waist (covering my wet trunks) and wearing my shirt, I got into the elevator. As the elevator made its way down, it stopped at 9, and a hot young number walked in, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, and carrying a backpack and iPod.

Him: Hey.
Me: Hey. Going to the lobby?
Him: Oh. Yeah. [I hit "1" for him.]
Him: So I guess you were checking out the pool.
Me: Yeah, it was cool. Like, literally.
Him: I guess so, huh?
Me: Yeah, it's in the shade for a lot of the day. But it's all right when you get used to it.
Him: I should check it out sometime.
Me: Yeah, you should.

The rest of this conversation took place in my head:

Me: Well, I'll head back up and keep you company if you want to go for a dip.
Him: Mmmm... sure, why not. I'd have to get my trunks though.
Me: Yeah, that would help. Want me to meet you up there?
Him: Actually, why don't you come to my place while I get changed into my swim gear?
Me: Okay.

Chicka bow, chicka bow, chicka bow bow...

***

I wonder what's causing me to think like this.