AuDHD gymbro

(A text conversation, translated for your convenience)

Friend: Hey, are you in town? I saw you on the radar~

Me: Yup.

Friend: Cool! What's your schedule like. We should meet up for tea.

Me: Ok, yeah, I'm available tomorrow at noon.

Friend: Great. Till then!

*tomorrow noon ish*

Friend: Hey, I'm at Jinrong Plaza. I have a friend I wanna introduce you to. He's gay btw.

Me: .....

Friend: He flew in from Beijing and has been surfing my couch.

My 🧠: (Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.)

Friend: This is kinda awkward lol. He's also bringing a ladyfriend with him 😅

Me: .... (Nope x10)

Friend: And the lady's bringing her kid 😅

Me: .... (Nope³ + 1)

Friend: You there?

Yes, I fired up tumblr to let whomever is reading this know that I tried twerking for the first time in my life. I can't do it. I cannot do it. I had fun, but I had no idea what I was doing.

You know how some people have a booty that's dummy thicc? Well, my booty is just dumb. Not dummy thicc, just dummy. Smart booties have to sit next to my booty because it needs help. Remedial ass ass. Got-test-papers-handed-back-face-down ass ass. Genuinely-surprised-to-be-at-graduation ass ass.

There's a guy I've been seeing for the past 8 years off and on. I say "seeing" but actually I mean I go to his city, making up a lie about being "on a business trip there", I text him my hotel room number, he comes over, we wrestle, chat for maybe 5 minutes, he leaves.

He leaves.

Then I leave.

This has been happening once or twice a month, every month if not every other month for the past 8 years. We don't know each other's names. Barely know anything about each other's lives outside of that hotel room. Still, we send good morning texts every day, a kissy face emoji or some RomCom or X-rated gif. He'll sometimes travel and text me a random glamorous shot of him posing like a GQ model in front of a street sign in Prague or standing over a dock in Vancouver.

Who's taking these photos?

I'll send him a photo of my one trip to Chengdu. (I don't travel.)

I'll text him wherever there's some "thing" happening at my job. An unruly client I want to rant about. Or if I get sick because of eating the wrong thing, and he checks up on me.

He wants me to move to his city. He thinks it should be as simple as asking my boss to transfer me or just send out my CV to companies there. And it is. I just don't want to do it. I make up excuses on why it can't happen - contact clauses, my boss said no, no one will hire me. And while he seems understanding enough, I think he gets it. I think.

I'm scared.

Moving there makes me available. It makes a close relationship possible. We'd be actually seeing each other at that point. What I haven't told him is that I much prefer this distance. The short moments of gratitude. The brief fantasies fulfilled. Even if it leaves me feeling emptier afterwards. I shake it off eventually. I always do.

Plus, I've worked so long with this company and am making decent. Moving would mean starting over, it feels like. Like I would be able to walk into a Chinese company and say I expect such such a salary because that's how much I was making at my previous job that you know nothing about with a CV you have no means of verifying for authenticity. (No seriously, the pervasive mistrust, assuming everything a stranger says is a fabrication mythos is THICK; even with a reference letter, if HR doesn't know that person personally, your reference may as well be a paid actor.) Networking is everything, and I suck at it.

If he knew someone who was hiring, I'd be more inclined to go, but... I don't know... it's the fear talking.

I'm scared that as we get to know each other, he'll hate me. The mask will slip and he'll hate me. And I'll be in this new city with this new job, having left amazing job security. For what? More frequent hotel room style visits?

Does this count as a breakup? I'm having a pity party and you're invited.

I came too the embarrassing (and probably self-fulfilling prophesy) that Boxer's association with me was totally transactional. The bracelet. The workout outfit. The trip to his hometown during Chinese New Year. The diners (all in the name of "bulking"). All transactional. They were all gimmicks to boost his KPI. The more people he could get on the outside to see him in his work clothes (which I always thought was weird, but now it makes sense), the more exposure his gym got. A walking advertisement, that guy.

Rewinding for a moment.

I trained under Boxer for about two years. In those two years, occasionally, Boxer would invite me to dinner at newly opened restaurants. Always newly opened. The restaurants were always within waking distance from the gym, which was neither here nor there. But one thing I noticed was that he would always show up wearing his gym trainer polo shirt. Call me thinking too much, but I got the impression that this was just one of the many ways his gym got exposed: be seen in a crowded restaurant with a bulky guy; people will assume he's with the guy in the gym uniform.

I have (had) two bracelets that were gifts from Boxer. At first I thought they were bromantic gestures to show appreciation, but upon closer inspection, matching up dates, he would whip out the gift right around time for me to resign for training sessions...

I feel like I've been duped. That my loneliness was sniffed out and exploited. And the sad thing is that I knew all of this. Nothing about our relationship felt comfortable. Nothing about the two of us together felt like "home".

I have 4 more sessions under this contract.

At the end of the last session, I took off the bracelets and let them on the counter in the dressing room. I "misplaced" them. They've since been found. I don't know where they are now. I didn't tell Boxer. When the time comes, I won't renew.

The relationship felt like clients with benefits. He gets a returning client... and a chat buddy... and a dinner partner... and a listening ear... and random jokes... and an eye into the foreign world. And all I got was augmented romantic frustration.

And I feel stupid.

I'm learning boundaries and how to ask for what I want without it sounding like an apology. I'm learning how to say no, how to push away. I'm learning how to protect myself, inside and out.

{TL;DR - Men. Mmmm. No one seems to talk enough about masking to cover queerness, and in my attempt to cover one, the other may or may or not have slipped.}

I go to 2 gyms now.

Rewind.

Many years ago, like covid years ago, I was studying MMA at a gym with a trainer named Blue. Blue looks a lot like an ex-BTS twink who ditched the boy band aesthetic to get big enough to compete in bodybuilding (and compete he did) only to learn how to punch and kick out of anguish of once being a twink.

Basically, Blue used to be really skinny and feminine-looking, got big, learned how to fight, and now no one from his past recognizes him except for maybe his mother. Fast forward to now, his MMA gym got shut down and he's now in my area working at a new gym chain as a manager.

Dude's changed. He's got that douchebag updo (think Zell from Final Fantast 8) and an earring in his left ear now, a tattoo of a giant cat on his leg, also a wife who's an English teacher, 2 year old, a smoking habit, and a ladyfriend that he's teaching Cantonese to but that's none of my business.

He texted me out of the blue (pun intended), so I went to check out his gym. I was happy to see that not much had changed about his personality at least; he still gives annoying younger brother you still love deep down vibes, and I'm ok with that.

We worked out that afternoon and spent the rest of the evening hanging out at a rooftop cafe, chatting until 3am mostly catching up. Apparently, between his MMA closing and now, he was a gogo dancer and DJ and that's where the tats and earring came from. His supervisor at this gym kinda pimps him out online. The trainers all have to have their own RedBook accounts and their supervisor gives them 100rmb to "boost" their profile views.

Blue complains. About "those fucking gays". And I forget for a moment that I'm one of those fucking gays. "Hate doing these profile boosts because my inbox gets filled with messages from those fucking gays asking for pics and about my body. It's fucking irritating ESPECIALLY since my profile clearly has photos of me WITH MY WIFE! I even put that I have a CHILD!!! Illiterate bastards... Look at these photos!"

Not gonna lie, TheyreHappyAF.jpeg

I almost gave myself away because I have similar issues with social media but for very different contexts. Still, people not reading profiles or jumping to out-dated conclusions about people based on whatever one or two photos your eyes lock into within second is indeed irritated.

I'm sweating through this part of the conversation because he them starts prying into my love life, asking about girlfriends... (plural??) and a wife/relationship. Asking how I go about "getting any" with my schedule and what my type is because he or his ladyfriend might know someone from his DJ days. Did I mention I'm sweating bullets at this point?

Me: Yeah, I'm in a bit of a situationship... (Not necessarily a lie - it's Boxer. that's my situationship. Also I'm a fucking gay.)

Blue: Oh? You got a photo of her? (Panik. Fuck.) Is she the one you had on WeChat? (Kalm. Un-fuck.)

Me: Yeah, that's her lol So anyway, how did you come across this area? (Look at me and my smooth self. Changing the subject and stoffff)

Blue: No, no, I wanna know more about this situationship thing you're in~ I'm all ears. I might even be able to impart some wisdom. Situationships aren't fun. We can agree on that, yeah? (Re-fuck.)

Me: (thinking quickly) We... we dated in uni and went our separate ways afterwards. Occasionally she comes down here and we, ya know, hang out and stuff. We're pretty much friends, less than lovers and no hate each other. (Lie. Lie. Not a lie. Not a lie. Lie.)

Blue: (a long glare) What do you mean by.... "hang out"? 🤨

Me: (ok, cool, I can deal with this one. I know how to answer!) What do you think....? 😏

Blue: Hahahaaa (then he yells out in English) MAKE LOVE!

Me: Yup. 😏 (Nope.)

Blue: lol... WAIIT a minute. (Fuck².) What if she has a boyfriend, do you two still -

Me: - NO! Just...

And then I break into this explanation (made of homosexual lies) about she and I still talk to each about people we meet while we're apart and wouldn't cross that line if either of us were in anything serious. And I'm trying my damndest to not confuse "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" in my explanation. I'm explaining it slowly, drawing a mind map in the air with my hands.

Blue makes a face while nodding. I guess he bought it? He takes a swig of his whiskey sour and never brings it up again.

I'm too tired to provide the rest of the play-by-play but the hanging out with Blue left me exhausted and ashamed and really questioning the kinds of people I associate with in the offline world. That I can't be my gay ass self with any of my definitely not quuer associates will never not be weird.

Have I been cat-sitting??

Or has this cat been me-sitting???

I invite you all to look at cat go from box to boooxxxxx~~😭😭

{TL;DR - Dooming thoughts. Stay awhile}

Just now realizing that I'm afraid of being in a relationship. I have this lingering fear that I'm going to be lifted into the air, only to be dropped onto my head. What I mean is things will start out great... We'll be close. A power couple of sorts. We'll do our separate things by day, randomly flirting through texts every now and then. We'll enjoy each other's company afterwards. We'll sleep under two separate bedsheets because we might end up sleep-fighting over one. We'll have deep conversations. We'll go for walks. We'll share things.

...because I'll be masking the whole time...

...then the mask will fall off.

Then I'll randomly go silent. I'll fall off the face of the earth. I'll strangely stop responding to messages. I'll mysteriously stop answering calls. I'll spend most of my time staring into nothing, like a Sim left on manual control and then abandoned. I'll randomly go on autopilot and make dinner or complete an errand without speaking. I'll turn into a subservient drone with a semi lifeless expression. He won't "know" what's going on.

And he'll get upset. "Oh THIS again," he'll say, out of exhaustion, out of annoyance. He won't tell me right away that he's bothered. I'll find out because he, too, will suddenly go quiet. He'll stop asking what's wrong. He'll stop waiting for me to "get my act together." He'll stop trying to figure me out. He'll stop being curious.

He'll find someone else. Someone easier. Someone who makes him feel needed. And I'll just end up finding out that way.

Because dealing with me was just too much much. The hangups. The on-again-off-again contact. The robotic/AI-like disposition. The random dark moments about leaving this world and nothing mattering afterwards. He'll grow weary of it.

And he'll leave.