SPA a thought for me…
As my quest for Mr right continues, I’m keeping an open mind when it comes to ways of discovering just where the bloody hell he is. Because right now, he is completely UTL. Does Mr right even exist? Is there really such a thing? Bugger me, I’m procrastinating and counselling myself as I write this column.
So, as I sip on an ice cold glass of Sauvignon in an empty gay pub in the heart of Uxbridge, (no wonder it’s empty, it’s Uxbridge!) I overhear some rather slutty looking queens talking about a sauna in Soho. And they say it’s such a great place to meet men. My ears prick up like a cat’s tail when they’re after a mouse.
Wonderful, I think to myself, that’s where I can meet the man of my dreams, m Mr right, the man I’m meant to share my living days with; in a sauna.
As I walk into the entrance of this sauna, I find it’s very dark. Cor, my old apple pies ain’t the best in daylight, let alone in this dimly lit setting.
Luckily I’ve got my contact lenses in so it’s only the darkness I have to contend with. I’m so excited for my sauna experience. I think to myself, even if I don’t meet a man, it’s still going to be a relaxing and rejuvenating evening.
I enter the locker rooms and see men walking around in their birthday suits. I go into a sheer panic.
I don’t think I can walk around in mine. I grab a rescue remedy pastille from my Superdry bag and suck on it. I need it to calm my nerves. I’ve always got pills in my bag for any eventuality. My friends call me a walking pharmacy. If you’ve got the sh*ts, a bad head, feeling sick or you just need a vitamin boost, I’ve got the solution.
After sucking on my pastille for a few moments and giving myself a good old slap round my Botox-ed boat race, I decide that I’m a young, attractive gay boy and I can walk around naked! And I thank god I stuck to my New Year’s resolution of swimming. I’ve got biceps that would make Tom Daley swoon. So I whip off my clothes and open the door.
Once in the sauna, I see a man’s genitalia, practically starring me in the eye. He is naked with a boner, in this sauna. What a saucy minx, I think.
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We are practically eye to eye and I’m talking the eye on my face and his special downstairs eye. Cor, I bet that hurts, I find myself thinking. He winks at me. With the eye on his face, I’d just like to point out. I shyly say hello. He just shakes his head to the left and walks off into a locker. Well, it looks like a locker. It’s got a black bench in it that looks like a bed.
Maybe he’s feeling sleepy. F*cking rude, though, I think. What was the point of winking at me? And then just walking off. I shouldn’t be too judgemental, though, maybe he’s got a nervous twitch.
I decide that I should find the jacuzzi. Oh yes, that’d be bloody lovely. A warm bubbly bath to soothe my achy muscles after a 70 length breaststroke marathon in the pool. I see two old men sitting in the jacuzzi, I mean they must be at least 75. I see a walking stick hanging from one of the hooks. Bless them, I find myself thinking. At least they still get out the house and look after themselves. I smile at them as I get in, which as you will discover, was my downfall.
As I sit my naked body down in the jacuzzi, the two geriatrics grin at me with their false gnashers. I mean, I don’t know that they’ve got false ones, I’m just being ageist. I lay back and close my eyes, enjoying the bubbles fizzing around me. Cor, I suddenly feel bubbles bubbling quite ferociously around my man bits. As I start to feel slightly aroused from jacuzzi fizz, I put my hand down to check it’s not being fizzed away from my pubic bone. And my lord, I get a shock.
My hand bumps into another hand and as I look up, I see the geriatric grinning at me, a full display of false Steradent cleaned gnashers glistening in my apple pies. At least his false teeth aren’t stained, I think to myself. So it could be worse.
He has got his bloody hand on my penis. The dirty old perve. I’m old enough to be his great grandson. I protest and start to pull away but he grabs my leg and pulls me towards him. Cor, he’s strong for an old bugger.
“Now, I’m not really interested!” I start to protest.
“Oh come on! Make an old man happy!” He seedily says.
“No, I will not!”
Well, as I went to get up from the jacuzzi, he pulled me towards him so fast that I slip off the seat, screaming as I go and my head slips under the water. And I can still feel the bloody old bugger’s hand on my manhood. But right now, I’m more annoyed that my whole head and hair are under the water and wet. I finally manage to pull myself from his grip and I storm out the jacuzzi. And out of the sauna. I don’t think this is the right place to look for love…
Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.
Mark David Woollard has just hit his 30’s and he feels as good as he ever has done! He is a fun loving, hard working kinda guy who has a self
confessed addiction to fake tan and Botox!
He has a terrible track record with men and rarely seems to get past the first date stage!
He graduated from Brunel university, west London back in the late 2000’s with a degree in creative writing and journalism. And is the author of one book, “The fun and frolics of Fifi a l’orange: The fame journey.” Available to buy on amazon!
He loves to make people laugh and vows never to take life too seriously. His favourite colours are purple and blue. Baby blue more though. His favourite food is Italian, but he is so upset that he can’t have garlic anymore because it gives him awful indigestion. His favourite alcoholic beverage is Sauvignon blanc. But he has also become partial to ale of late. And is worried about whether that makes him an old man??
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Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you'd like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.