Sex, Life, Rock & Roll

“Stairway to Heaven”

Funny thing happened to me on the way to a massage last weekend. Well not actually on the way but at the massage. No I did not get a happy ending. Most of my life I feared entering any Asian Massage Parlor regardless of the city. I also had a strange sense I’d run into an owner who knew my family. No my family is not in the rub and tug business. The Korean community resembles most ethnic communities in America they are a series of interconnected networks of gossip.

At my scheduled session I met an amazing woman. One things lead to another and boom! We ate dinner together, talked for hours and ending up sending many unanticipated hours talking. It just kind of happened. Which is fairly hard for me to say, because when a friend tells me an affair “just happened” I ask if they happened to slip and while falling his penis “accidently” penetrated a woman.

Damn I hate when that happens!

Since our chance encounter we have seen each other almost every day. Nothing of a sexual nature, or maybe there was, no seriously there wasn’t…maybe? No, not really…what do you think?

As I am typing this post, I still can’t believe the things that transpired this week. I found myself walking out of a dark place towards a bright light. I realized I was a prisoner in Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. For many years now I was an inmate chained inside the cave. I was beating stones with my back to reality. Staring at shadows on a wall. Those apparitions were the entirety of my life, only images which caused fear, sadness, and frustration. This woman freed me from the cave. Progressively with each passing hour I spent with this woman, my eyes opened. I understood the things I saw were the result of images I’d perceived and not reality. The darkness I crawled into came from the things I perceived.

Anytime a member of the opposite sex pays attention to you, it feels great. It feels even better when the other fits the physical ideals you’ve always wanted. Having this type of attention forced me to look at myself. I found it easy to look myself in the mirror, which in turn forced me to face the reality of my appearance.


With a new found desire to care about my personal appearance, I stepped on the scale daily. Something I’d prescribed I needed to do in another post. I started the week 337 lbs. This morning exactly a week later, I weigh 325 lbs.

Additionally, yesterday morning I woke up and found myself working out. I possessed the energy to workout. When I went to bed the night before yesterday I did not plan a workout, it again “just happened”. I woke up, pissed, looked at myself in the mirror and told myself “fatboy get your fat ass moving”. The workout shocked my system. I was incredulous of how far my physical health has declined.

Here’s the actual workout:

10 minutes @ 5.0 incline 3 mph, 25 air squats, 25 wall push ups

5 minutes @ 6.5 incline 3 mph, 25 air squats, 25 wall push ups

5 minutes @ 7.0 incline 3 mph, 25 air squats, 25 wall push ups

5 minutes 7.5 incline 3 mph, 25 air squats, 25 wall push ups

5 minutes 8 incline 3 mph, 25 air squats, 25 wall push ups

I dubbed the workout “FATBOY RETURNS”. My new benchmark workout. Interpreting progress won’t be the easiest imperial analysis because the workout isn’t a simple race against the clock; however the increase in incline, speed, and reps will reveal significant progress overtime for my capacity for work.

I texted my friend this morning following my workout this picture:

My large doubles when I put on weight, it’s carrying two watermelons on my neck.

I told my friend I chased the dark dragon this morning. For those poor uniformed souls, my old blog purely comprised of self-hating narcissism, I wrote extensively about my need to push towards a black hole. I am motivated through the near unhealthy pursuit of breaking myself. I call this point, my “dark place”.

The dark place exists towards the climax of any workout. I push towards the moments when my body wants to quit, the moments when I can’t breathe, and the moments when taking a break is the smartest action to take. I live for those moments. Today, I saw a glimpse of my dark place, and it gave me a fucking boner.

“Sweet Child of Mine”

The many revelations this week led me to another conclusion, some about myself, others bad scientific discovery. I am a superficial man, and require the visual, sensual, sensibilities of an attractive woman. A supermodel may not be the answer, well first I’m not a good looking guy. At least not the type who ends up with a supermodel, I am if nothing self-aware. The probability a woman universaly accepted as beautiful is equivalent to the probabilty I shit perfectly clear four carat diamonds this morning. I just accidently learned I am shallow enough I need physical attraction to the woman I’m with.

Not happening for this guy.

Okay I know this isn’t some great revelation in the scheme of history, science, or society; but, this realization for me is absolutely the discovery of fire. I thought I preferred intelligence over appearance. I do want a woman to have intelligence, yet if she is an unattractive smart woman I’m just going to stick around forever. I thought about Bill Clinton. I’ve seen in interviews with people who know the Clinton’s that Hillary is Bill’s intellectual soulmate. But we all know he loves women.

I further feel the ambitious man is more likely to feel how I feel. This woman I met made me feel like a man. The more a man strives for excellence in his field, I think he craves this feeling of manhood. Maybe it’s some remnant of Paleolithic man. Regardless of the reason the male desire to achieve complete masculinity exists, we have to accept it does exist. The easiest way for a woman to destroy a guy is emasculate him. It’s kryptonite, it’s cutting his long hair, or it’s stealing his spinach supply.

For the first time in my life, I understand why men cheat. I thought cheaters are scumbags. Cheaters are losers. Cheaters are assholes. Some of them still are, yet I can’t help understand the motivation which pushes them to cheat.

I feel rejuvenated. I feel energetic. I feel passion for life. The time I spend with this person is like heroin. Trying to temper the desire to spend time with this woman is like fighting Mike Tyson in the final stage of Nintendo’s Mike Tyson Punchout.

This person could disappear tomorrow. But, the remnants of her impact won’t change. She is like a catalyst. In this chemical reaction my fat body started its compositional change because I met her.

Part II Next.