You know me. You know who I am. Even if you have never seen me, you have heard of me and all my glory. I have been around since the dawn of private gyms and public pools. You have seen me as a young child, you have seen me as an adolescent, you saw me just the other day. I am everywhere. I have instilled fear into your heart. I have haunted your memories. I have kept you up at night, sweating in bed alone, petrified.
I am the old man in the changing room. My penis does what it wants, nay, I do what I want. I let it all hang out with all my wrinkled splendor. Wrap a towel around my frail nude body? Ha! I scoff at the idea. I strut every which way, my skin flapping around like a turkey’s neck. I sit on the bench, my ancient balls just slightly clinging to the wooden slats.
I make eye contact.
You know who I am. But do you know what I stand for? Do you know why slither, in the nude, around the locker room? Do you know my story? No. No you don’t. When you look at me all you see is a pair of expired testicles and rancid dick, like an old sausage someone forgot about that’s been in the back of your refrigerator for over three years.
You don’t see a passionate old soul, you don’t see me.
It’s okay if you don’t understand yet, soon you will learn.
You will become who I am. One day.