I retired to the locker room with nothing on my mind other than the enjoyment of the air conditioning, when a neighbor from down my street sat down next to me and began changing his shoes and shirt.I know him, his name was Eric. He was probably 60 years old, had graying hair, was clean shaven and had a New York accent. He was around 240, 6 foot tall and not necessarily in shape. Not completely out of shape, but not someone I was attracted to. I would never even thick Eric was gay. He certainly showed no sign of that. I really did not know him though. He was just a guy I would see in passing.Eric struck up conversation with me. The conversation was just “How did you do?”, “It is so hot in Florida in March,” and other normal chat. After I changed out of my shirt, and was about to get up to go, Eric said, “You smell great man, hope to see you on the courts again soon.” I thought Eric was being facetious, so in banter I replied, “Yea right, I smell like a trucker on long haul who hasn’t showered for a week.” Eric smiled, and said back, “That is truck I would want
