Confessions of A Naughty Girl

The Spin Cycle and The Gang Bang - Not So Different

Two mornings ago, I missed my 6 am alarm, which sucked. I woke up at 7 in a panic, thinking I was never going to make it to the gym on time. And since it was a Tuesday, this left absolutely no excuse but to attend the 6:45 pm spinning class my sister teaches every week at my gym. Having made a serious commitment to my body (combined with my inherent need to please my sister), I decided that I would give spinning a try...again, and in spite of the fact that I find it pointless to spend an hour riding a stationary bike that never leaves the confines of the steamy, B.O.-smelling workout room of a gym.

Regardless, I went to class, and in the locker room, ran into a co-worker who asked if I was attending a lunch in her honor the next day. I gave her a tentative answer, and we briefly chatted about my ever-present fear of going to this spinning class while I waited for my sister.

I will say this though - the best part of the class (aside from the music, as my sister shares my Class A taste), was the seated/standing sprints on the bike, which eerily mimic sexual motions. It's not at all disappointing like you would think. It's really what you make of it. I mean, if you throw your head back and let out a little giggle while doing sprints, as I did, you'll not only scare the shit out of the guy on the bike next to you who's focusing ever-so-hard on making sure his seat doesn't pull an Ike Turner on his Tina Turner testicles, but you'll also be having fun. And having fun takes your mind off of the fact that you're on a bike going absolutely nowhere. Hey, if you can't be for real f*cking, get on a bike and try some "faux-king", right?

Anyway, the net-net of it all is that I woke up yesterday morning AND this morning with some serious pain in the crotchal area. I mean, serious pain. It's one of the only aches I can ever remember sustaining that sitting doesn't make better - it actually makes sitting painful.

Because I can't shut my f*cking mouth, I felt the need to tell my friend Martin about my faux-king pain on the way to lunch yesterday - the day of the co-worker's lunch. We had decided that while we couldn't actually budget enough time for a 4 hour lunch, figured that the next best thing was to stop by, pick up a to-go order, pay our respects, and head back to work.

When I told Martin that sitting, walking, running, standing, and just about anything I did was extremely painful, he reacted like the true buddy he is and laughed hysterically. And he continued to laugh all the way in to lunch.

We approached the table of 20 people as we were waiting for our order to say hello, and my farewell-gym-co-worker asked me how spinning went. Wanting to stay true to...well, the truth, I said, "Miserable," and in a very low voice - what I hoped was low enough to evade eavesdropping, I added, "I feel like I was gang-banged!"

She erupted in laughter. And so did everyone else at the table. Apparently my low voice is more like a stage whisper.

One of the other table members had a field day with this. The next thing I knew he's yelling, "You had your cherry popped by a stationary bike seat?" to 20 people at the table.

Immediately, I turned red.

Ten minutes worth of heckling and speculating about my hymen ensued.

It might be helpful to mention at this juncture that a so-called "person of interest" was sitting at the table. A person who I don't know quite well enough to classify as someone I "like", but certainly someone who has been noticed over the last few weeks and, if I have anything to do with it, I will be spending more time with in the future. Acting like a lady, of course.

Except for maybe not, since he heard me admit that a bike made me feel like I'd been gang-banged, and the raucous table laughter that followed.

As if that wasn't humiliating enough, with everyone's attention focused directly on my privates, Martin then announced, "Yeah, it's true! She was just telling me about how much her woo woo hurt on the way to lunch!"

More laughter.

Now, I'm not easily embarrassed, but when 20 people are discussing and laughing at your vajayjay over corned beef reubens and artichoke dip, one is likely to feel pretty f*cking uncomfortable. And that was exacerbated by the fact that my new "person of interest" had just tuned in to the annual State of the Union for the United States of My Vagina and gotten reports that it's been under attack. Orange-level alert. Pretty sexy, right?

Since then, I've been replaying the scene over and over in my head and trying to figure out a way to reverse this whole situation. Maybe it's not that big of a deal. Maybe he will look at me from now on and associate me with beauty and intelligence, not a bruised Hoo. F*ck, who am I kidding - that had to have been a dealbreaker.

So not to make light of a gang bang, but honestly - it's not so different from a spin class. At least not for me. At the end of the day, I got sweaty, an achy nether region, and truly f*cked. Which is good, because I'm fairly certain that exchange ensured that I wouldn't get laid again for a very, very long time.

posted by KA @ 6:33 PM