You probably don’t remember me, but we ran into each other at the Whole Foods salad bar recently. Well, we didn’t exactly run into each other – I saw your perfectly coordinated orange outfit, turned to my fiancé and said, “Holy shit I’ll be right back, I have to take a picture of that fuckin’ guy over there.”
I’m not a huge fan of sneaking pictures of people in public (yes I am), but I think I took your picture because I knew I needed time to process it all – more time than the situation would have allowed me to do.
We ran into each other around dinner time. I had just finished work for the day, and you had probably just gotten out of your job as a trapeze artist. Please have no doubts, you were the center of attention in that place. A complete head-turner. I hope you don’t find that surprising, because you’re insanely buff, you’re dressed like a human highlighter, and you were having a loud, boisterous conversation with the butcher in the seafood department as he handed you your fresh cut of ahi tuna. A conversation which ended with, you guessed it, a big ol’ high five!
Most importantly, how the fuck did you get those tiny, orange corduroy shorts over those bulging thighs of yours? Did you wrap a piece of orange corduroy around those hammys and then sew it together? I like to think you got them on before you became so buff, and you’ve been stuck in those bad boys ever since your quads eclipsed the leg-hole diameter of that dish towel you call a pair of shorts.
Anyway, if you could take a break from lifting old-timey, giant, triangular weights to write back I’d really appreciate it. Either way, best of luck!