To be clear, the term “athletic” is subjective. I’ve heard men describe themselves as athletic, then justify it by saying they bowl, golf, or play darts. Yet, for most non-deluded types, athleticism implies fitness, hence, that’s the sort I’m referring to. Let’s lump larpers and competitive eaters with the rest of the sedentary in another category for another time.
Say you’ve had a devastating break-up, and you’ve decided to heal (punish) yourself with extreme training for, say, marathons, for example.
Really? OK, if you insist. You do know they make this thing called a car now, that can easily traverse the 26 miles in 30 minutes or less. No, I completely understand. Go right ahead. Sure, what a great way to spend five fucking hours! Of what use are hips and knees at the retirement home? Carry on, my wayward nipple blister.
Ah, I see. You’ve decided this would be a fine way to meet Mr. Next. Great idea! Maybe a 5K would be sufficient. Bring your container of orange slices to registration, and check out the field. Avoid the bony types of boys. Yuck. Your man needs to have some meat on him, or he’ll be cramping up every time he heads south.
So, you’ve spotted a hunk-a-roo. What do you do? Walk right on up, slap him on the (solid) hiney, and ask him what’s shakin’. Tell him you’re new to this run-until-you-have-quarter-sized-blisters thing. Ask for advice. Guys love giving advice. True, most of it is as useless as tits on a bull, but act interested, will you? Chances are, he’ll offer to help train you. Tell him your thighs are tightening up. Ask if he’d help you stretch. He’ll leap at the opportunity. Lie on your back and allow him to pseudo-mount you like that hunky trainer once did.
When it’s race day, insist that he not slow his pace on your behalf. If he agrees, and all you see is heels and elbows, fuck him. (Not literally.) Kick his salty balls to the curb. But, if he says, “Don’t be silly, my love,” Too-Short-Shorts Shane is yours to keep.
To maintain this hyperactive twat, you’ll need a waterproof hamper and plenty of Tide. He’ll constantly be sweating through layers of clothing. Also, I highly recommend cedar hangers and shoe-freshening balls.
His superior strength and lung capacity will come in handy. When’s the last time you had Sex du Soleil? You know the kind: Where the man stands, lifts you off the ground, and slams you while working his abs. Good stuff. Most men can barely achieve this with the aid of a wall or counter. Think of the bragging rights you’ll have.
High lung capacity comes in handy for underwater cunnilingus. I consider myself superior because I have snorkeling equipment for such occasions. Think about it. Nice, huh? See you at the Y.
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