As I came hobbling in the front door from my final run around the block, CJ stood there at his post cheering on the last of the 5pm CrossFit crew.  He came in earlier with the 4pm guys to participate in his self-designed workout program.  The S.O.B. made it one tough WoD (Workout-of-the-Day) in particular for his birthday.  Part of our OGER tradition involved collaborating with the coaches on the WoD for your special day.  He wanted CARDS as his only gifts –

 

BATTLE: CJ

Hearts = Bldg Run

Spades = Box Jumps (16/20)

Diamonds = Toes-to-Bar

Clubs = KB Sumo-Deadlift-High-Pulls (53/35)

Face cards are 10 reps, Aces are 1 rep and a Joker requires 10 reps of every movement plus a run!

 

I lay on the floor collapsed gasping for as much air as I could take in while I looked up glaring at him.

Coach had said,

“Don’t let the ”boy-next-door” act fool you; he’s serious like an assassin when it’s ‘Go-Time’!”

I thought more about his boy-next-door good looks and charm as he smiled at me soliciting any form of feedback whether it be a grunt, gasp of air or even a Fran cough.

“How was that?  Did you survive?”

Clearly I did more than survive – I crushed his damn workout finishing it quicker than most of the crew who “played cards” with him that day.  CJ is a white, witty-mouthed, dirty-blonde, tall drink of water from Texas – one of those guys in the gym or rather, my CrossFit box, who makes me push myself just a little harder whenever I see him.  A better way to describe our relationship would be that we check and balance each other.  If I try to take an easy day at the gym, I’ll usually see how much he’s lifting then add more as to not go out like a bitch.   Whenever I’m loading up my barbell he checks to see how much I’m doing… and will add another plate or two to his stack just to keep up or push it even further.

But what’s also great about CJ is that he’s someone that I can bounce ideas off of about my dating life.  He does so with me about his own as well.  He makes sure that I’m not going off the deep end nor do I let him go too far without a little tongue-lashing if it sounds like he’s not respecting himself.

“Got any plans for your birthday later?” I inquire.

“Nah, not really.  If I’m going to do something I’d likely choose something low-key… after all it’s a school-night.”

“Didn’t you know that Thursdays are the new Friday?  But yeah we should do something chill like get some vino and small plates.”

We decide on Bar Ferd’nand in the Melrose Market.

“Well, I better get in the shower.”

“Forget that – just come with me to the grocery first.  You’re heading home before we meet up later.  A little sweat won’t kill anyone.”

And it didn’t.  In fact, there was something magical about his sweat – he had an odor but it wasn’t offensive.  In fact, I was kind of attracted to whatever pheromones exuded from him now that he’d cooled down a bit from our last activity.

As we leisurely strolled from the gym to the Whole Foods on Denny I could feel my back drying out as a light wind came passing through the streets while we easily shot the breeze about guys we were dating and other gay guy real talk.

“You still seeing that dude you told me about?”

“Yup.  You might even meet him tonight later on.”

CJ quizzes me again.

“Now, was he a ginger?”

I refute his statement whereas enlightening him on the details of a new vocab word that my beau had taught me based on the fact that he doesn’t have freckles and his beard is the only hair on him that is actually reddish.

“He’s a…. Daywalker.”

CJ erupts in laughter as loud as he can then pats me on the back.  We turn the corner.

Upon entering the storefront I immediately observed two things – fresh flowers and MEN… men with beards.  Hot, rugged, hairy and hipster-ish men who were not only ringing up customers at the Checkout Lines, chatting with patrons at Customer Service , but also hauling carts of grocery inventory around while helping folks out behind a counter whether it be the coffee bar, seafood department, bakery or the meat counter.

Mmm… M-E-A-T.

Nowhere near the Frozen Foods section, but standing solid as ice having momentarily forgotten our banter  – I’m gawking at the burly specimen stacking the organic Honeycrisp apples just passed the cheesemongers when I no longer sense my gym buddy’s towering presence over me.

CJ saunters off to Cold Beverages.

“Going to grab a coconut water and food at the hot bar!  Come find me in a few.”

Still deciding on what I want to eat I choose to wander the aisles.  Approaching the bakery I’m greeted by a sweet, honey-brown haired bear who is a little on the heavy-set side yet quite upbeat and absolutely adorable.

“Good evening, can I help you with something sir?”

I divulge that I’m looking to get something fairly quick for dinner as I’ve got another engagement later this evening.  He declares all the bread in the display is fresh, having been baked just a couple hours ago.  I’m OVERWHELMED by the selection and invite him to share with me his opinion.

“What’s your favorite kind of bread?  Something that would be hearty and filling?”

He tips his cap and points to the ciabatta loaves at eye-level telling me how great they are accompanied with one of the soups they’ve put out in the other section of the store.  Just then, I remember that I’m currently abstaining from any gluten-filled foods.

Fuck.  That’s not Paleo.

I just thank him for his time then let him know I’m looking for something else.

Walking through the Produce area I get a closer look at Burly Apples.  I do a double-take because he seems familiar.  Attired in Carhartt overalls and a newsboy cap that hides most of his dark-brown hair he’s a couple inches taller than me with a bushy brown beard looking quite content as he’s surrounded by the fruit of a season’s labor.  Although stacking the popular Honeycrisp variety instead of the lesser known Shamrock apple, the setting does remind me of someone.  An urban farmer that taught me most of what I know about sustainable living today…  Somebody I used to know.

 

No longer wanting to dwell here I’ve continued through the bulk foods and around the corner to the Seafood Department.

Ahh.  The Seafood Department.

I hear the cadence of rubber squishing against the floor behind me when I turn around to see black rubber boots pacing towards the entryway to the other side.  Pale, strawberry-blonde, curly-haired and freckled assuredly not any older than 28 he reaches for one of the white coats hanging along the blue tiled wall and puts it over his gray wool sweater that’s pilling around the cuffs – clearly an article of clothing that’s been with him for some time now.  He walks over to the display with a smile on his face as he lays both of his arms along the counter resting his chin over his knuckles.

“The salmon burgers are really good today.  You can get ‘em with Hatch chilies.  Anything special you looking for?”

I remember the signage seen in my periphery as I entered the market previously.  It was Hatch chile season AND it was in EVERYTHING!  But I like it a little hot so I choose to go for his suggestion letting him know I’ll take one.

A plate is handed to me with my salmon with the very same crooked smile that welcomed me there

“The Seasmoke Café can cook it up for you.  I’m sure you’ll enjoy it!”

He says this with such confidence as if his heritage was that of a Nordic fisherman from Ballard. I spin around and hand the gentleman in the Costello eyeglasses my plate.  Three to five minutes is the expected wait.  As I’m posted at a bistro table my eyes wander over to the Meat Department.  Back and forth two beefy fellas in white aprons (both look Italian) are hustling around dropping various cuts of meat on the scale to weigh out what the other customers are requesting to take home for their dinner.  If each respectively wore a red or blue set of overalls they effortlessly could have claimed a different profession of certain plumbers I knew from my youth AND which pop culture loves for their “cuteness” and friendliness.

My order is called out ready and I head up to the front of the store with the beginnings of my meal.  I grab some quinoa salad, some mélange of broccoli and cashews alongside a healthy serving of kale when I run into CJ next to one of the hot bar specials.

 

“I’m trying to decide if I want to be bad and get this breaded cat fish.”

CJ makes the first excuse that it’s his birthday so he should be free to eat whatever he wants.

“And we just worked out too… so who cares?”

I toss a couple pieces on my plate first then hand him the thongs.  He’s got that seaweed kale salad mix that we both just adore on his plate as well.  I give him the final excuse that it’s all about balance and how having some green on his plate made up for the fact that he was about to enjoy deep fried catfishy goodness.

He piles it on there at a level that made even me uncomfortable.  Guess I egged him on too much.

We pay up at the Express Checkout counters and advance around the corner where the barista with the silver carabiner hanging from his skinny jean belt loops places a coffee order on the counter.  CJ and I find seating outside right by the gate entrance of the patio.  Seated, we bask in the sun while we chat.

“It’s really good to hear you are hanging out with this new guy.  Sounds like a good dude.  For me, I’m getting a little tired of the guys in this area.  I don’t know what it is, but dating is so tough in this city.”

We go on – sharing bits and pieces of what the ideal relationship would look like for each of us in addition to career aspirations among other things.  He talks to me about life, love, … generally the pursuit of happiness.

I’m caught up in thought considering how fortunate I am to have a buddy whose got it going on as much on the inside as well as the outside.

Just then CJ starts to point over to the soda fountain gesturing with his pointing lips and I’m confused.  Turning my head I see a very handsome gentleman with a square jaw and cleft chin with a 5 o’clock shadow and Channing Tatum-ish good looks.

“Hey Boo…!” CJ quietly whispers indicating more for me that this kind of guy is his type than to actually try and get his attention.  I’ve sat up and scooted my chair about the table now gazing more intently so I can get a better view of CJ’s proximity infatuation.

“Dude, there’s a stroller with a kid right next to him.  I think he’s a Dad.”

CJ rationalizes further.

“Hey, I’m an Equal Opportunity Dater!”

I burst just a bit while he snickers back winking at me.

 

“Shut up and eat your kale.”