Why I Like to Spend the Evening with Gilad

He always takes me somewhere nice and mysterious, like an island overlooking skyscrapers and rowing teams. He lays a mat on the grass for us, and then we begin.

He always has a compliment for me. “You’re looking slimmer since the last time I saw you.” When we move together, he murmurs, “Nice. Yes. Good. You’re looking great.”

He’s very strong and has big muscles, and yet he’s always gentle and never pushes me to do things I don’t want to do (or can’t). He says, “I don’t want to lose you. So, if you can’t lift your leg on this part, just stick with our original lunge step.”

He plays cheesy trance music, and yet it gets my heart beating and so I don’t mind.

He overlooks my flaws. “Take out your big weights now,” he says. “For women, that means five to eight pounds.” I take out my 15.5 ounce cans of fruit cocktail, and he doesn’t say a word.

Although plenty of women in turquoise, cleavage-revealing leotards flock to his side, he never gives me a reason to be jealous. He adjusts their triceps and tells them, “Okay, Danielle, you’re looking good,” but I know he doesn’t feel the same way about them as he does about me.

However, when he stops to touch the leotard-ed men in the back, I do have to wonder.

My man Gilad.

Other Videos of Importance

A gay boy wished for a planet full of unicorns, y’all. Planet Unicorn, hey:

I once got sucked into a marathon of this show on Thanksgiving day, making us late for my boyfriend’s family’s luncheon. “Quit watching that shit,” he said. “It’s not even that funny.” But he was wrong. It is that funny. Kung Faux:

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Posted in pop culture on 06/25/2007 02:34 am

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