in recent gym news, croftie and i have developed a major joint crush on our gay aerobics instructor. because our affections have not been dampened by his wearing what appears to be a unitard, we believe this is true love.
brantley. we can't even say the name without letting a little sigh escape. it's so sexy. it's so harlequin romance.
we first ducked into brantley's step class to escape the overeager gym worker who always asks, how was your workout, CROFT? oline, how was YOUR workout? in such a way that we're painfully aware of our ill-fitting gym pants. but brantley. brantley makes us feel like queens.
last sunday, we attended the class after brantley's. brantley was standing in the opposite corner wiping the sweat from his beautiful brow as croftie and i discussed the virtues of a joint crush.
this'll give us a whole new thing to do together! i exclaimed. croftie did major eyebrows of elation.
then brantley saw us. he walked toward us.
brantley's coming over!!! croftie whispered.
act natural!!! i gasped.
and we tried in vain to look as disinterested as possible. (if you've ever been a twelve-year-old girl, you know this routine.)
brantley approached! he remembered us! he knew our names! he shook croftie's hand!
there is some dispute about the handshakage. in retrospect, croftie feels that perhaps brantley was making an effete gesture that she misinterpreted as the instigation of a handshake and upon which she misguidedly seized his hand and shook it. nevertheless, we both swooned.
at the very least, we expect brantley to become our dear bosom friend. because we've realized that our lives have a shocking lack of legitimate gay right now and we feel less like city women for it.
but deep down, croftie and i are quite sure that brantley's madly in love with us both and that one day he's going to shout, croftie! oline! saddle your ponies! and whisk us off to a deserted isle where we'll sassily shimmey and sprint to select britney spears hits for the rest of our days.
oh, brantley! sigh!