|Kenyon Martin, Trend Setter|
Folks, I thought this little trope of mine had run its course. I thought I had seen, then looked as far away and as quickly as humanly possible, all that there was to see. I haven't added a new guy for the collection in a while, and I've been going pretty much every other day in 2013. (Not bragging, just OCD. Anyway.)
And then, I saw him.
I'm going to give you the full experience here, because I think that just adds to The Funny, and well, it also explains me breaking a real miss here. In locker rooms, one generally looks at other people just long enough to ensure that you are not breaking any rules of proximity, and to make sure that your stuff is secure. Taking a second look at anyone or anything is not nice at the least, and downright wrong at the worst. Nothing good can come of it.
And yet, there he was. Sideways to my view, naked as the day he was born, a reasonably fit guy in his late 50s / early 60s, with the right leg up on the bench to spotlight his single, solitary tattoo.
On the upper back part of his right leg, more in the buttocks area.
Now, tats on old guys are not that unusual, though it's not like I'm really looking hard for them. But just one? That is. Usually, once you pop that cherry, you either fill the rest of the canvas, or you get it removed.
Not this guy.
And not this design.
Yup, the ol' Kenyon Martin lipstick kiss on the ass.
Which, given the context, the singularity, and the utter Really, You Have That There? nature of it, does the following.
1) Gives the viewer the damned near impossible to resist NEED to confirm that this is what you are seeing, rather than some vivid hallucination
2) Tempt you into informing the owner that this is on his person, since, well, it could have been some act of revenge that no one has told him about
3) Ask him what the nature of the lost bet was, and congratulate him on being man enough to take the consequenc
4) Find out just how many people have kissed that, and
5) Thank him for the rather charitable placement, since it was more on the leg, rather than a more central location.
So, to you, Unforgettably Tattooed Guy, I grant you the title of Most Memorable Old Guy at the Y yet.
And my fervent hope, nay, prayer, that no one takes the title from you any time soon.