The Gay Trainer Who Assembles Things

01-05-09

Something very odd about writing “09” for the year. Jesus. TEN years ago, Marguerite raised hell when you–at 14–and Big Dan were blasting Prince’s “We’re gonna party like it’s 1999.” Now, seeing as how you are still quite young, you’re sure you irritate the hell out of anyone over 40. But, you can officially boast that you can speak in terms of DECADES.

Right, lame way to start the blog entry.

You’ll just jump right into things. First of all, you’re gay, dammit. And no amount of ridiculous and polite European assumptions that you are heterosexual should ever change that. But, you would like to make the point (again? have you already made it?) that you have never had so many people think you are straight. It’s really throwing you off guard, PARTICULARLY since you are traveling and nothing about your dress, hygiene, or line of “work” would suggest a heterosexual. Really, this is all in your head. But if you meet one more person–take Angus, for instance, who knew you for two months before he realized you were queer–who makes this mistake, you are going to have to go out of your way to increase your fabulousness. Perhaps a new piercing? Maybe there is some space on the back of your neck somewhere. Oh wait, tried that.

Item number two: Marlene has been talking about an infamous group of 30 Belgians coming to stay for two weeks in April. For the longest time, you thought it was a group of adults. Turns out it’s a group of kids, and she has been shopping for things to keep them entertained (i.e., a guitar, drums, a karaoke machine, etc.). You told her that once upon a time you were a counsellor at a sports camp, and she promptly invested tremendous faith in your ability to organize fun activities for them. You played on her desire to purchase a basketball hoop, and also encouraged (more like PRESSURED) her to purchase the 13ft trampoline, and not the 10ft. Can you say, “OH MY GOD!! Trambopoline!” (That was for you, Neal).

Why is this AMAZING? Exercise, obviously. What else? You’re talking half-court basketball games, Bump, 21, you name it. Then you’re talking BUTT WARS on the trampoline, playing with Josh, laughing when Jane’s “endowments” hit her in the face. In the summer, you will dig a place for it next to the pool, which spells trouble.

But first things first: A.S.S.E.M.B.L.Y.

Your heart goes out to any frustrated father who sits in his driveway ALL FUCKING AFTERNOON and labors to put together his kid’s new Reebok basketball hoop. Really. You’re not stupid when it comes to putting things together–a DECADE of playing with Legos, 1,000 piece puzzles with Sylvia, an earth-shattering Tetris personal record (202,000), and a near-tear-filled night with Kady as you attempted to put together your Ikea bed at, what, 3 in the morning… these can all attest to your ability to assemble things (not to mention building houses). But, God Almighty, putting together–with Neil–the basketball hoop was harder than, hmm…., getting into college, recovering from a back injury, and growing up *COMBINED!* For fuck’s sake! Keep in mind that it was freezing cold, the two of you couldn’t feel your fingers, Edouard and Maria escaped AGAIN (and trampled the parts), and the light was fading. You and Neal dragged the parts into the house, and proceeded to spend another three hours battling this beast. Finally, you erected it (somewhat incorrectly) and laughed uproariously and quite tiredly at the sight of a 10ft basketball hoop in the middle of the living room, ready to fall over any second. Well, there are more unusual things for Douglas and Marlene to encounter upon entering their house… bottom line, basketball is not a popular sport here, AT ALL. No wonder that every time one of the boys encounters the basketball on the floor, he starts kicking it.

You are very reluctant to open the–not one, but–THREE boxes that contain the countless springs and widgets that this monstrous trampoline promises. Perhaps more on that later.

Item Three: you are officially a LIVE-IN TRAINER. Yup. There was time… you thought that if you were ever completely free to go anywhere/do anything (yes), then you might try to be a live-in trainer for someone. Suppose you want to live in New York City, but can’t/won’t afford it. Simply MOVE IN with your client. Offer not just daily training, but life coaching, grocery shopping, meal preparation. The whole she-bang!

This is exactly what you are doing. Only in Ireland. Your business always does boost in January, doesn’t it?

Now, if only you could find the talent to help you realize your custom online training idea. No, not really. Probably some kind of violation of ethics. Then again, times are changing.

But yeah. Training is getting big here on the farm. It all started with Jane, but the heads are turning, the inquiries are rolling in… Hell, even the ANIMALS are in on it. On Christmas Day Douglas drove through the gate with a guest only to find you running to the end of the drive, trailed by the German Shepherd and the two pigs (who were had just escaped and thought to follow you on your run). There are two moments in your life you wish were recorded on film–THAT MOMENT, and well, you’re still trying to figure out the other one.

There is so much enthusiasm for what you love and definitely don’t mind doing, Marlene even randomly mentioned something about wishing she’d thought to put a personal training advertisement on her WEBSITE (thanks, but no thanks, because you have waaay too much one your plate at the moment). You and Neal picked up a very nice full-sized punching bag, that not only was an addition to Jane’s regime, but a delight to all the men and Josh. You finally caved and ordered Jane a kettlebell (as swinging 3 gallon jugs of water is a nice substitute, but not the same), and finally uncovered Josh’s jumprope.

You know, it’s really been a good week. Way to start the New Year (after having only half a pint of Knob Creek, feeling tired right after The Countdown, and yacking when you returned home at 2am because you were car sick)!

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Categories: Ireland, LGBT, Workaway/Wwoof | Leave a comment

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