We use your name as a verb
Apparently, you forgo deoderant. I'm not sure if you do this because you feel that it's not natural - the regularity with which you smell would suggest such a belief - but, I gotta tell you, it's killing us. You seem like a nice guy, you always smile and say pleasant things and you're not one of those grunting behemoths who loves flexing in front of a mirror, but I just don't even want to be in your vicinity when at the gym. My friend and I, we turn around and head for the machines when we see you on the benches. I never partner up with you in boxing class either, even though you're pretty good at it and would probably make an informative and pleasant partner otherwise, and that's why. The other day you came in to spinning class just after me and sat right next to me. I smiled and said hi, but inside I just cursed and cursed because I couldn't really move bikes without being unbearably rude. It ruined my workout, because I didn't want to breathe very hard and smell you.
You, my friend, can fill a room.
I know that you do wash. Frequently. I see you go into the men's locker room every day after you work out, and you come out neatly dressed and freshly showered and looking for all the world like a nice-smelling boy with excellent hygene. I can't help but thinking that that's just an illusion, just one that's far less entertaining and far more damaging to your personal reputation than pulling bunnies out of a hat or being cut in half with cunningly placed mirrors.
If you've ever wondered why people shy away from you at the gym let me make that connection for you right here and now. You stink really really bad. You really really need to wear deoderant.
A concerned fellow gym-goer.