Tuesday, June 24, 2008

It's Not Me... It's You....

Well, it's over. I'd be kidding myself if I said I didn't see this day coming. We were just too different -- different needs, different passions, different ideas of what exactly constitutes "cleanliness." It was just there, hanging over us for all these years... not a question of "if" it was going to end, but rather "when."

I'm leaving you, YMCA.

Don't get me wrong -- I loved the over-chlorinated pool, the scalding cauldron-like temperature of your bilge-y water, the roving hordes of locker room septuagenarian coots lathering their sagging ballsax in my general direction. The final straw, though, was that they've changed the summer lap times to 5 a.m. - 7:30 a.m. Yeah... THAT'S gonna fucking happen. The only things swimming in this house at that hour are my kidneys, engorged with a nightfull's-worth of crabby-piddle.

Plus, after Bob-the-guy-at-the-front-desk died, no one knows who the fuck I am over there, anymore, so the time is ripe for an exit.

Today, the Old Lady and I got a family membership at Court One, the fancy-schmancy tennis club that's literally a 5 minute walk from the Crabshack. It's not really fancy-schmancy, but compared to the Y, a club foot is fancy. And we didn't sign up for the tennis part. We're not tennis people. We're not even racquetball people. Nor ping-pong people. No, we're more like whacking-dirt-clods-with-a-stick people.

But we did get the membership that includes swimming (indoor AND outdoor pools), the bigfuckingass cardio room, the basketball courts, the steam room, the whirlpool, and the all the free classes we want, like kickboxing, yoga and other shit that I didn't read about in the booklet... jazzercise, maybe?

And it's basically the same price as the Y, so what the shit, ya know? I don't owe the Y any fucking loyalty. I mean, what am I doing at the Y.M.C.A. anyway? a) I'm not "young." 2) Okay, I am mannish. iii) I'm definitely not Christian. And D) I've never trusted "associations." So I'm not even their target demographic. They're probably happy to be fucking rid of me -- fucking godless heathen.

So now, I can just stroll on across the road and swim any goddamn time I want. Oh, and did I mention that this new place hands out free towels... as many as you want. Free! Towels!!! I'd be lucky to find a soiled wet-nap stuck to the bottom of my shoe, at the Y.

Yep, it's definitely over, Y. Time to move on. I'm cleaning out my locker. Aw, c'mon, don't start crying. You'll find someone new. Some young Christian man, straight outta college. Your individual membership is still very alluring to someone like that. Besides, I'm no good for you, clogging your shower drain with my hair, and making all the old ladies uncomfortable when I ask if I can "share their lane." And you were never into my kids. Sure, you had that half-assed climbing wall, but I could tell your heart just wasn't in it. You can barely take care of yourself, let alone the spawnage. No, it's best that I just go.

Let me just leave you with this... there's no need to feel down.
Just pick yourself off the ground.
Because you're in a new town
There's no need to be unhappy.


queen lisa of montreal said...

Yes, I broke up with the "Y" when I started finding empty tuna cans in the sauna. (Seriously. In. The. Sauna. WTF??!) Those charming little eccentricities may seem like cute little "quirks"at the beginning of a relationship, but toward the end it feels like full blown mental illness.Plus, our YMCA has a salt water pool, which you would think would be awesome (without all the chlorine), except somehow it made it feel like you were swimming in lukewarm brine. I'm currently on the prowl for another body of water; am considering the Roman Baths in the gay village... (great post, btw!)

lizzy said...

HA! Quintessential crab. Classic stuff. i.e., two things you might find in the Y pool.

Brian said...

You're not alone, CD. My family left, too! There is just no way that the Y can compete with these new fandangled fitness centers. Their features are better, their prices are comparable, their locations are more convenient! I mean, c'mon. It's simple economics.

crabbydad said...

Queen Lisa, I can't even comprehend the tuna cans in the sauna. What were they making in there, tuna melts? Or were they dehydrating cats? Hey, maybe dehydrated cat melts!

Thanks, Lizzy. And are you asking about two things that I've found in the pool? Cuz I've found a lot more than two. Or are you talking about #2? Which I've also found in the pool.

Right on, Brian! Fuck the YMCA, and their helping the less fortunate. Sure, they'll provide shelter and food to the needy, but who does a guy have to schtup to get a hot tub in the place?! Selfish bastards.

LiteralDan said...

But won't you miss the sagging balsax? I mean, did you even stop to think about the ballsax? And I mean reeeeeeally think about them... until you start dreaming about them.

Only after doing that can you make such a big decision, assuming you even still want to after that warm reminiscence.