Deep Water

I put it off several days, but I gave in tonight and did it. At home, I put on the Speedo we bought on Sunday, put on a pair of sweats and sweatshirt and headed to the gym. Once there, I warmed up, did upper body and core exercises for 20 minutes, then I grabbed my goggles and a towel and headed outside. No one else was in the lap pool. The moment I stepped outside the cold air made my nipples tingle. I undressed near a table on the other side of the pool, down to the Speedo, then stepped down the ladder into the water. I forgot about my nipples as the temperatures of cold air and less-than-warm water sloshed against my skin. My goal was an easy five laps.

In high school, I was on the swim team long enough to lose my suit on the first dive into the pool. No one saw my ass or shriveled schlong while I pulled my suit up from around my ankles, but the mortification was strong enough to propel me out of the pool and I never went back – I ended up in cross country where I literally ran with or ran after a guy who I liked. I didn’t have a name for the feelings or emotions or level of desire, at the time, other than “oh my god I love him.” Years later, I would see him in a local gay bar, blasted drunk out of his mind. He couldn’t outrun his demons, and I couldn’t understand how someone so beautiful got swept away by alcohol’s undertow. His name was Mark, and he had eyes as blue as the pool’s tile.

At five laps, I was panting so hard that it sounded like a bad phone-sex call. My ears pounded with the sound of my own racing heartbeat. I let myself float near the end of the lane and I remembered a gym I used to go to in Utah during the winters. The pool was covered with a big bubble and I’d swim at night several nights a week. I used to leave my swimsuit at one end, do a lap, and come back to my suit. Once a young guy (latter teens) came out to the pool while I was at the far end, surprising me when he stood on the edge of the pool and removed his suit before jumping in. When he surfaced, he was grinning at me and I grinned back. We swam on opposite ends doing laps, and I remember how freeing it felt, how unselfconscious, how comfortable it felt to swim. Over many months, we talked and became friends, and most nights if one or the other was already there swimming, we’d both take off our suits and skinny-dip. There was nothing remotely sexual or erotic – only freedom and gliding through the water. He is married now and lives in Finland.

I allowed myself to remember things from the past, and I allowed those things to flow through me instead of sinking in murky memories. My motivation is to be as comfortable in that Speedo as I am in my memories, as I am in my own naked skin. I didn’t stop at five easy laps – I did ten laps tonight. I’m kind of excited to see the churning of these deep deep waters.