At My Gym

There's a guy I've seen around the neighborhood for years. He was actually a member of my old gym a few blocks away from my current (seriously overpriced) branch. I started seeing him at my new branch about 6 months ago. He's slightly taller than I am, around 5'11. He has long brown hair that he always wears in a pony tail and brown eyes. I don't think Puerto Rican, I think he's from Spain. I'm quite sure he can speak English, although in all these years I've never heard him do so. When he's with someone, they only speak Spanish. He speaks softly and with an air of confidence. He works out often, but he's not muscular like, Ka-pow! He's just got broad shoulders and a trim waist and he's curvy in his arms and legs. His skin is olive colored and flawless. He sometimes has a light beard or needs a shave, but it always looks perfect for him. I think he's so stunningly gorgeous that I have to look away when he's getting changed for fear I get caught staring. Just being near him makes my heart flutter. Two weeks ago, he was changing to work out while I was dressing to go home. The entire time he was in the locker room, he was softly singing. In Spanish. His singing voice was slightly higher than his speaking voice. Of course, I didn't understand a word. Until I finally heard some lyrics I recognized. It was Besame Mucho. It was all I could do to not bust a smile. It actually made me tear up a little. That man is why I'm gay.