Gym Jim.
What a great nickname for a booty call. You know, if his name was Jim and I met him at 24 Hour Fitness. If I had a second Jim in my phone book and my rotation, as well.
I wouldn’t be able to call the other one Slim Jim, though. They would be listed separately amongst my contacts, but “slim” and “gym” sound too similar to provide enough differentiation when inebriated, a condition ripe for sexting. I don’t want to be confused as to who I’m attempting to coax over to my house and into my bed.
Not again.
In actuality, it’s not likely that this will be much of a problem. Slight of frame isn’t a build I gravitate towards. And should an exception be laid, I’ll just go a step further and name him Beef Jerky.
Nevertheless – Jims, Sids – Davids, Alans, Griers – better safe than, “I’m sorry, I meant to invite someone else over.”
