So I’m off to the gym, Fitness First it’s called, a good two minutes power walk from my apartment.

On my way up the stairs, a fit woman falls into step beside me.

“You’re new”

“I am”

“I always notice the new people, if they’re not a gay male. This gym is 95 percent gay male”

“Lucky I wasn’t planning on picking up”

How we laughed.

Until we walked in to this:

The gym was swarming with them. About twenty. The Italian Rugby Team had chosen this location, this day, this hour and this moment to train.

Just for my entertainment.

There was a lot of long hair, glistening muscles, gesticulation and effort. From them.

There was a lot of longing. Not from them.

Everyone in the gym was working out very earnestly. I’m guessing 95 percent more earnestly than on a normal Darlinghurst Tuesday.

I think we’ll all have sore muscles in the morning. Not perhaps the sore muscles we may have created in our Italian Rugby Team fantasies, but something to remember them by after all.