Today I went for a swim. I achieved forty lengths in 25 minutes, which considering this is the first time I’ve been for over 3 months was a bit of a coup for me. And by 40 lengths I DO mean ½ a mile – it wasn’t a child’s paddling pool if that's what you're thinking. To be fair, swimming is a pretty boring sport which I only partake in for reasons of health. It wasn’t so bad last year. There was a rather attractive lady Lifeguard who kept me motivated to stay in the pool and plough on with a few extra lengths. But alas, she seems to have left and swimming is now just a dull chore once again.
In retrospect I suppose it is quite sad that the lifeguard lady would just become another figure I admired from afar yet never uttered a word to. But then I doubt would it have been appropriate to chat up an on-duty lifeguard. Let’s not forget, it may be my leisure time, but it certainly is not hers. She has an authoritative control to maintain, and for this reason any seductions would likely be a pretty humiliating experience for both of us. Approaching her as a half naked and dripping man would make me feel vulnerable, whilst let's be honest, she’d probably find the whole experience akin to being seduced by a moist, slightly obese chicken in a butcher's shop window.
Yes, I suppose it was best to have kept the whole thing as my little private lecherous fantasy (well maybe ‘fantasy’ is the wrong word. Fantasy implies arousal. And the physical consequences of arousal would probably not be contextually appropriate in a pair of revealing trunks around a swimming pool full of young children. But I’m sure you know what I mean).
So goodbye lifeguard lady, whoever you were. How sad that any chance of our love could drown before it’s even had the chance of a supervised swim. If I happen shed a tear over the tragedy, I promise I won’t cause a spectacle at your old pool - I’ll make sure I’m swimming underwater when I cry.
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