Happy New Year…You’re Gonna Die

*AUTHOR’S NOTE: This column was posted via InsideSTL.com in January of 2013 and now being added to the archives

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It’s the second week of January. Have you failed yet? Has your will relented to the gentle, persistent persuasion of your silver-tongued mind? Have you allowed yourself a puff, a drink, a bite, an extra day away from the gym? Can you feel the excitement and novelty of your annual resolve fading to reveal failure that is all too familiar?

Don’t worry. Justification rides shotgun by default. It will be there to stroke your bruised ego and relieve you of guilt with its standard mechanical responses, just as it has in the past.

It’s not the right time…I’m too stressed…I’m not ready

And my personal favorite, it just wasn’t meant to be.

This “meant to be” shit has got to stop.  Along with its contemporary cousin, it is what it is…at least in reference to anything more meaningful than the weather.

I digress.

I say “mechanical” because these responses are beyond predictable…they’re automated. As complex as the mind is in so many ways, overall there is a simplicity to most psychological processes. So when after several months of prepping yourself for a change of habit…after convincing yourself that on such-and-such a date you are finally going to begin creating a person you will like more than the person you currently are, you fail and the realization sets in that you must accept being no better than you were when you hated yourself, your mind gets to work defending your inaction.

It is a necessary defense mechanism, really. After all, life goes on and there will be another benchmark date to effect the change you seek.

The right time…when you’re not so stressed…when you’re ready…when it’s meant to be

Right? Fucking hippy?

A friend and I often laugh about our personal afflictions with money. We earn about the same amount and neither of us is an extremist in any particular direction, but he is more “penny saved is a penny earned” by default and I am definitely more “you can’t take it with you”.

One day he explained his fundamental fear that he not have it when he needs it, to which I jokingly replied that mine is I would die before I spend it.

While banks benefiting from interest earned on our dime would have us believe thinking long-term is always most prudent, I’m not convinced. Sure, a degree of preparation is essential, especially when others are counting on you. But acknowledging that another moment on this earth is hardly guaranteed is something most people refuse to do.

That pesky ego…it yearns for immortality. It dismisses any evidence of our impermanence with a vengeance. This is a fear-based motivation that religion has fed upon since dirt was on fire, and it is the voice you hear when you fall short and feel guilty about it. It is the internal whisper, vindicating procrastination, assuring you that there is plenty of time before you get cancer…a heart attack…gain another 30 pounds of pure, delicious fat. It reasons with you that none of that stuff will probably happen to you anyway. It is the reason I have not written my first book and struggle with more than an occasional Black N’ Mild.

They’re not even good cigars for shit’s sake.

Indeed, your ego is one arrogant, clever son of a bitch. But I have something important to share with you that, with all its savvy and good intent your ego does not want you to believe. If you will be so brave as to take a few deep breaths, push it aside and find that elusive quiet, calm state of mind that is so fleeting in our busy lives, it is a message that will change the way you live your life for better and for good:

You are going to die.

You are all going to die. I am going to die, too. Some of us might even be dying sooner than we think, sooner than is fair to our ambitions and loved ones. But, sooner or later, we die.

Before you call me out for stating the obvious, ask yourselves: have you accepted this simple truth? How many people do you know who clearly, truly believe and understand this?

It’s scary shit, no doubt. Though your faith (or lack of ideology for that matter) may bring you a degree of comfort, death is the ultimate unknown, and therefore the ultimate fear and a terrifying threat to the ego’s need for permanence.

But you must soak it in, in order to appreciate the evanescent nature of life. Every truly great and truly despised person in human history…religious, agnostics and atheists alike…brave men and women and heroes who served others with their last breath…weaker, more pathetic souls who panicked and shook…at the end of the day they all died just the same. And in a manner that at least at this moment is still to be determined, so will you.

This is not about what you believe does or does not happen on the other side. This is about life, right here and right now being all that we have. Acknowledging that when death does pull your card, which it will without the shadow of a doubt, the opportunity to procrastinate goes with it. 

That’s the thing. You have no time. None of us do. Time is an illusion. It is a measurement system we concocted using planetary patterns in an attempt to wrap our brains around day-to-day activities. Activities many of us have become so disenchanted with that we find ourselves adopting lesser ones out of boredom and self-loathing.

Habitually.

The single act is not the problem. The habit is the problem.

And so you designate a day to begin anew. A “special” day. A new era in your brief existence. A New Year. But the even more temporary period of discomfort that accompanies that change is simply too much right now. Which boils down to a false lack of a sense of urgency, provided by your well-meaning but severely mistaken ego; your inner dialogue, whose sole purpose is to alleviate pain and discomfort, emotionally and physically. Which, ironically, founds its logic in the present at the expense of a future it believes goes on into forever.

But then one day you die. Your loved ones aren’t likely to dwell upon your selfishness or weakness, for we all dwell in this glass house together.  Flawed, sinful, blemished…however you choose to identify our human condition. But we die, nonetheless. Guilt-ridden at best; painfully, sickly or tragically at worst. Our legacy, well, is what it is.

Or we change.

We do everything in our power to alleviate the guilt that resides at the heart of our desire to transform our will and we feel fucking fantastic as a result. We smile in the face of the reaper, in the face of the unknown, and live rich, healthy lives because having found lasting peace in life, death isn’t so disturbing.

Happy New Year.

Why Women Love Ballplayers

A work buddy and I were talking about possible topics for this column when he brought up what I thought was a good one:

Why do women love ballplayers?

A little background on my friend…he played college ball – he was a pitcher – with a guy named David Freese. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. Since he and I are both rabid baseball fans and sit adjacent to one another, we often shoot the shit, argue about trades and signings, analyze ballplayers’ bodies of work and Hall of Fame worthiness, et cetera. We often disagree.

For example, I recently identified the mercurial Manny Ramirez, signed out of retirement by Oakland in the midst of a PED suspension and a player I never cared much for personally, as one of the best hitters in the history of the game. He disagreed, even though I pretty much clobbered him with indisputable evidence. (19 seasons of .312/39/129…are you kidding me?)

But he occasionally brings the kind of insight only a guy good enough to play at a collegiate level alongside a future World Series and NLCS MVP can bring. It’s the unequivocal difference between one who has learned something academically and one who has learned it experientially. I’d like to believe I represent a balance of both, but the nuances of the game, the lifestyle of a ballplayer…even at the relatively low level he survived, I never reached such heights.

Having neither his nor Freese’s permission to expound, all I will say of my friend’s tales of Wild Turkey and pot-infused glory is that they never fail to entertain. Still, when Freese is on national television generically mentioning some of the less sensible decisions he made prior to enjoying big league success, I can only assume there is an overlapping of events.

And I can’t help but envy a scenario where hot, horny college girls pay you homage simply because you are a ballplayer.

They called them “cleat chasers”.

This got me thinking about David Freese’s recent social ascent…the Country Music Awards with Erin Andrews, appearances on talk shows, Alive Magazine cover shots…and perhaps my favorite, subject ofThe Onion’s “David Freese Swarmed In Saint Louis By Hordes Of Swooning, Average-Looking Women”.

There is naturally an oversimplified assumption that women like ballplayers because they are fit and financially well-off. Of course they do. But this doesn’t give the vast majority of women – namely, those who are not sluts with daddy issues requiring influential dick to curb their insecurities – the credit they deserve.

Whether men and women realize it or not, the underlying and supremely-attractive trait demonstrated by ballplayers is focus.

Sure, it helps to be a chiseled specimen of physical fitness. Most women do like muscles. But focus, and the draw it receives, are not exclusive to professional athletes or to those who have achieved celebrity status.

A man’s ability to focus helps satisfy one of women’s most primitive prerequisites: mental stability. For purposes related to both her and her potential offspring’s survival, she desires a man who can hone in on the task at hand at a moment’s notice; one who is in control of himself, but who also commands a certain level of power over the world around himself.

Modern society obviously requires this be translated a billion different ways by a billion different women, but whether a woman’s gaze has become fixed upon a slick-fielding, power-hitting ballplayer, an edgy, hipster guitar prodigy, a deft-handed auto mechanic, a dutiful father showering a child with the attention it deserves, or the village’s most successful hunter making it rain sweet meats and the warmest of pelts, focus, and its assumed byproduct results, turns women on.

When she tunes in to a Cardinals game – especially one deemed “important” by the masses, further validating the players involved – she sees men engaged completely in their craft. She sees Wainwright glaring at the strike zone and Carpenter scowling at an opposing, two-bit Brewers outfielder (Ahhhhhhhhh). She sees Molina maliciously scanning for baserunners from behind his mask. She sees Freese going oppo in Game 6 for extra bases and capping it off with possibly the coolest fucking pose in the history of the triple…and then she sees him deposit a home run onto the Busch III centerfield grass for arguably the most exhilarating win in Major League Baseball history.

This corner of baseball reverence will also miss watching Colby Rasmus dig in with a vengeance…

Guess somebody lost a bat in the cave.

The dynamic distinguishing the professional athlete from the layman is really just the illusion created by media coverage. We view athletes and celebrities for the time allotted and from the lense of public perception as they perform at the highest level. It’s not until Britney exposes her unruly muff or Scott Spiezio singes his soul patch on the crack pipe that we realize these individuals have problems just like us.

It remains their ability to focus, and sometimes refocus, that continues to attract us to them. Talent is prevalent, no doubt. But without focus, talent is nothing.

The caveat is that focusing on shit that sucks, or that is useless and offers zero peripheral benefit to society does not count.

Halo does not count. Your six fantasy leagues? Also do not count.

What counts are the activities that give your life meaning. Acts that bring you to that elusive state of focus, not to be confused with numbness…acts that produce, or at least have the potential to produce positive results of some kind.

Ultimately, we’re talking about the kinds of activities that bring about genuine happiness and personal growth.

I’m not knocking your Xbox obsession. It’s just that it’s really hard to find – and keep – a quality woman if your ass never leaves the bean-bag chair.

Focus is the reason women get all hot and bothered about guys like David Freese. Especially guys like Freese. Guys who have fought through adversity in order to accomplish something significant. What women love watching us do most are usually the things we love doing the most.

Again, presuming those things have purpose.

In fact, generally speaking, women are predisposed to nurture and assist us as we do those very things.

And if you catch one that doesn’t, throw her back like Cubs fans will be Freese’s longballs this year at Wrigley.

Revisiting Your Failing New Years Resolution

It happens every year around this time. Well-meaning herds once committed to better health in the New Year begin to thin, fading into old habits and addictions.

By spring the vast majority have fallen short. In like a lion in January…out like a lamb by March.

On one hand, it’s a relief. The gym just gets too fucking packed. This year I joined a new one because of it. The last straw was my having to stand in a filthy, crowded locker room holding all of my belongings, waiting for a locker and a place to change that wouldn’t require someone getting sexually assaulted in the process.

To the disappointment of the message boarders, an inadvertent rusty-tromboning is not in my fitness game plan.

Attempting to sum up the psychological grounds for maintaining or abandoning a workout routine is foolish…there are so many variables. However, a few culprits exist that we can probably all agree on.

Below are the most common reasons your local gym is getting fat on the direct debits of members who haven’t broken a sweat since Valentine’s Day.

The Reason: Results 

You got off your ass, made long overdue changes to your diet and lost weight. You enjoyed some deserved success and have never felt better…than you did a few weeks ago.

You haven’t been to the gym since.

Whatever newfound strength you found is already leaving you, as is your resolve to a healthier diet. Soon the euphoria of your initial success will be gone and you will have to pick yourself up all over again, just as you did a few short months ago in an act of courage that probably took years to manifest.

The Fix: Remembering the reasons you began working out in the first place 

Did you jump on a treadmill for the first time in your life to be ten pounds lighter for a month and a half? If so, you have shitty goals.

You began exercising for the right reasons. You wanted to look and feel better for the rest of your life. You wanted to be there for your loved ones long-term. You wanted to abolish the insecurity that had been pummeling your confidence every day for good. The reality is that none of this had anything to do with the New Year.

My advice: write out as comprehensive of a plan as possible and track your progress, at least in the early stages. Use a journal to whatever degree you are comfortable, logging both your daily routine and dietary intake, at least for a while. The key is maintaining your routine by any means necessary.

It is all about establishing the routine…creating the habit.

The Reason: Lack of Results

There are so many reasons an exercise routine fails. A bad program or trainer, poor nutrition, unrealistic goals, to name a few. Even when you do all of the right things results may elude you at first.

Unfortunately, this is probably when we need them the most.

For the obese – the fruits of one’s early efforts are often hidden beneath a layer of fat. Even the scale works against them, reflecting weight gains as they build muscle. I was scrawny when I began exercising and can only imagine how demoralizing that would be. But I can tell you from my own experience that the feelings of weakness and intimidation one who is underweight deals with during those first few months can be overwhelming as well.

The Fix: Discipline 

A few years before I decided to start exercising, I quit smoking. A month after my last cigarette, I watched as my grandmother, a lifelong smoker suffering from cancer and emphysema lay on her death bed vacillating between what was clearly a tremendous amount of pain and the numbing effects of medication. Her body was swollen and discolored and it was horrifying. I do not wish such a death upon anyone.

Correspondingly, I think the phrase “trying to quit” is the most absurd statement someone can utter. I find it pathetic. In the case of smoking, you either raise the cigarette to your mouth, accepting the risks, or you do not.

Like Yoda said in Star Wars, do or do not. There is no try. You either committed to the practice of wellness or you did not. Stop being a pussy about it and decide what you need to do.

Then do it.

The Reason: Injury

Injuries are a real and valid threat to any workout program. If professional athletes can’t avoid them, neither can you.

The fear of injury alone can make for an easy excuse to quit. Until new habits are firmly in place, until the mind embraces change, the transition is uncomfortable and we look for excuses to ease that discomfort. This same mental mechanism defends our addictions – food or otherwise – allowing us to perpetuate them.

The Fix: Reduce the Risk

When first getting started, it is easy to get amped up and go a bit too hard in the paint. This is also when you are most susceptible to injury because your body has not yet adapted to the new demands you are placing on it.

Folks, this is a lifestyle change. The most important thing you can do is set reasonable goals and implement a practical, safe routine while erring on the side of caution.

Learn good form if you are using weights and machines, and pace yourself on cardio equipment. If you feel you lack the necessary knowledge, hire a personal trainer. If you can’t afford a trainer, ask gym personnel for specific tips. If nobody employed by the gym is available, befriend members who are fit. If all else fails, message me. And always consult with your physician if you have special needs or concerns.   

What you will find is that people who have learned fitness are happy to share their knowledge. Why? Because they know how hard it can be at first, but also how much it has enhanced their lives. It’s human nature to want to share that with others. And no matter how far you’ve come, there is always plenty to learn.

Remember: Becoming fit will require a patience similar to the one you employed in becoming unfit. Neither philosophy requires you to meditate on the results in order for those results to happen. You can avoid injury by being as relaxed with your workout routine as you were your non-workout routine.

It’s just another integral part of your life…no big deal.

*Legitimate injuries (not to be confused with normal soreness) are to be honored and tended to, but it is crucial to get right back into the game.

How you wish to live and die is as personal a decision as there is. There are individuals who seem perfectly content regardless of their physical condition. I respect it. But what is neither respectable nor conducive to a state of happiness is permanent residency upon the fence.

I hope you stick with it. I really do. It is a fulfilling and rewarding choice you have made. But if you are not going to stick with it, please get out of the locker room.

Making Your List And Checking It Twice

Almost exactly five years ago, I was celebrating the holidays as a husband and a father who had finally begun to figure it out. After going back-and-forth, in and out of an unsuccessful and borderline fraudulent marriage, an epiphany befell me; actual love required an unselfishness I had lacked for most of my life.

I had serious doubts about our compatibility, but I would at least try. Really try.

In defense of my baby’s mama, I had been a pretty uninspiring spouse prior to that point in time. In defense of myself, I was barely into my mid-twenties and would absolutely NOT have tied the knot had she not gotten pregnant four years earlier.

I can still remember the conversation a twenty-one year old me had with the folks upon finding out the news.

Me: We’re having a baby. And we’re getting married.

The Folks: Are you sure that you need to get married?

Me: In the event the relationship fails, I want to make sure that I have as much leverage as possible in regards to my child.*

The Folks: I think we should have a drink.

I’m not sure if it was a toast or medication.

*Without going into the psychological minutiae that accompanies a young man born to a wholly absent, deadbeat father (one half of the above “the folks” is an extraordinary man and step-dad who I am truly blessed to have in my life), I’ll just say that, while hopeful the relationship would survive its catastrophic beginnings, at the forefront of my mind was a burning desire to prove I was nothing like the man who was too big a pussy to raise his own offspring.

As fate would have it, I learned a few days after that Christmas that the wife I was trying to reconcile with was still talking to a guy she had dated while we were apart…via a call from said guy.

Awkward.

I had been hell bent on giving the marriage a sincere last ditch effort. After all, I was a father. And I love my daughter more than anything on this earth. I felt I had matured significantly and was even beginning to feel capable of monogamy. I owed it to those involved to give it my best shot.

But finding out the bitch was triflin’ was the next best thing. Whatever love-type emotions catapulted us into the throws of romance had been replaced with insecurities, addiction and jealousy. The final break up and out wasn’t easy – parenting peacefully continues to be a challenge at times – but she had in effect given me a guilt-free, “Get Out of Jail Free” card and I wasted no time using it.

My point…

Lost in the suffering that accompanies the end of a relationship is the opportunity to take advantage of the proverbial clean slate. It can be difficult to erase the chalky residue that remains, but it is mandatory that you do so. Otherwise, you are doomed to a vicious cycle with a person you know is not supplementing your wellbeing. Or worse, you repeatedly land in situations like the undesirable one you left.

You must wipe the slate clean and move on, for life marches on whether you are genuinely happy or not. And once it’s been scrubbed with the damp washcloth of time and courage, on it you should scribble your list. A list that ensures you will never end up in a situation like that again.

A relationship wish list, if you will.

You may not find a person that embodies all of the traits you desire, but you damn sure better know what those traits are. I encourage literally writing out such a list for the same reasons I suggested writing out personal goals in my 10 Things Men Should Do From Time To Time column…because somehow, someway, the Universe seems to conspire to bring your intentions to fruition.

I’m not exactly sure how or why, but it does.

Or maybe just having a fucking clue what you are looking for helps shield you from making poor decisions.

Either way.

A few examples straight from the pages of a journal I kept immediately after the aforementioned debacle:

4. Must be a nonsmoker
I have great friends who smoke, and have been known to enjoy a cheap cigar from time to time. But as Chris Rock poignantly stated in the hilarious yet profound Bigger and Blacker, you can’t be like, “I’m going to church…where you going?”, and him or her be like, “To hit the pipe!”

That relationship isn’t going anywhere. Similar lifestyles – if only similar in respect to one another’s bad habits – generally represents a strong play.

16. Cannot be a terrible driver
Shitty driving is a pet peeve I am embarrassed affects me as much as it does. But the fact is that if you are incompetent behind the wheel we are not going to get along. And I will likely also draw the unfair conclusion that you suck in bed. It boils down to hand-eye coordination.   

Jesus fish on the rear of your vehicle? Automatic repudiation. (Definition of repudiation provided here for message boarders) All drivers of vehicles with a Jesus fish on them suck at driving. Another mystery of the Universe I no longer care to question.

32. Must like to camp
There are few things I enjoy more that being outdoors. I have dated a few girls that did not and it was an awful experience for me personally.

Numbers 3, 11, 20 through 23, 33, 41 and 42 all pretty much had to do with sexual inhibition. A girl’s stock rises more than just a few shares in my book if she is sexually secure.

Case in point, I once had a promising date tell me that doggystyle was out of the question. Her Jesus fish reflected my look of disappointment as she drove into the sunset.

The bottom line is this: if you are already in a great relationship, you were probably blessed with an innate sense of what you were looking for when you found her. I was not. Or perhaps you failed in your earlier attempts and figured it out the hard way like me. But whether you are looking for a short or long term engagement, you should know what you want so that you will recognize what it is, and more importantly, what it is not.

You owe it to yourself and those involved.

Here’s to happier holidays for us all, my friends.

The (Only) Three Levels Of Fitness

Prior to implementing a fitness routine, I can honestly say I had almost no conceptualization of what it meant to follow a step-by-step process towards a significant goal. Most things had either come easily enough that I would lose interest after achieving “above-average” status, or they were difficult, in which case my energy became focused upon finding a shortcut.

Warp Zone to level eight, hidden green vine? Don’t mind if I do.

But in matters of health and fitness, there are few cheat codes. This is important to accept because, to the best of my knowledge, there is also no magic turtle shell to dance upon in order to accumulate lives.

There is, however, a degree of simplicity that applies to the process one should follow whether novice or expert in the fitness game. It can be summed up – and, in many fitness conversations and certifications, often is – in three levels of progression. Stability, Strength and Power.

Stability. Gravity is a motherfucker. And were it not for your muscles, the force of it would turn you into a bag of antlers. Therefore, job number one is stability, or, giving our pathetic bodies a fighting chance against the merciless conditions that exist on Earth.

Many ambitious souls muster the fortitude to enter a gym, or to brave cruel, concrete slabs smashing against their foot bottoms in an effort to become more healthy and fit. Many of them – minds more supple than physical tissue – find themselves injured before ever realizing the benefits of exercise.

This is why no matter who you are you must literally build a stable foundation upon which to grow. Whether you are fat or skinny, generally active or largely sedentary, accepting where you are now is the first step. The next is accepting that a realistic pace of development, with realistic objectives in mind is where everyone with a level of fitness you admire began, and where you must as well.

The good news is that this does not take as long as most people think. You can feel a difference in just a few weeks of following a decent routine.

Tip: Focus upon low-impact cardio (especially if you are overweight) and “prime mover” muscles. Prime movers are just what it sounds like…the muscles responsible for a large degree of your movements. There are different schools of thought on this, but I would sum these up in the categories of “push” muscles (chest, shoulders, triceps, and quadriceps) and “pull” muscles (all areas of the back, biceps, trapezius and hamstrings). This, combined with some abdominal work is a good place to start.

Strength. Stick-to-itiveness…also a motherfucker. Once you’ve reached a level of core stability and witnessed some progress, you will invariably reach a crossroad: you will either bask in the satisfaction of the early stages of your development, promptly fading back out of shape, or you will press on to new heights.

Should you opt for the later as opposed to yo-yoing in and out of consistency, you will be rewarded. You’ll sleep better. Your work day will go smoother. You’ll have more energy for everything from parenting to house chores to sex.

The strength phase is also the point at which tone and hypertrophy (increased muscle mass) really take form. All those physical attributes people think is “hot” about one another, that work is generally done here.

Transitions from your original routine will need to be made. Such as training more with free weights and body-resistance as opposed to the more limited guided apparatuses and machines which neglect the muscles that assist the prime movers…muscles too numerous to name, but ones that you use everyday.

As your workout gets easier, whether by number of reps/sets, additional weight/resistance, or endurance, you need to continue challenging yourself. Ideally, this will become a habit and the results will help keep your outlook fresh. Talk to trainers and others working out about their routine and preferred equipment. Nine times out of ten they will be flattered and happy to help. Adjust your routine and adapt to your improving level of fitness.

Tip: Moving from the outer fringe of stability training into full-blown strength training means you’ve come a long way, but be aware that the areas of your body possessing the most innate strength (due to lifestyle and genetics) are the very areas you will enjoy working out the most because it’s easier! Neglecting the weaker areas as you continue to grow strength in the stronger ones is a surefire path to injury, not to mention poor aesthetic results. Don’t be that 80 lb girl who refuses to do anything but run on the treadmill, or the meathead who benches 280 but can’t squat shit due to his fragile Chicken Little legs.

Power. It’s not just about athletic “rate of force production”. It’s about hoisting up your third grade child for a big hug and dead-lifting the bag of cat litter without herniating a disc. If you’re also able to outslug your peers at the company softball game, all the better.

In order to maximize performance, speed and power, stability and an appropriate level of strength must first be mastered. This ensures that your tendons and ligaments are sturdy enough to allow you to force your muscles to their summit.

How physically powerful you are or want to be is relative. It’s a personal preference. Just remember that your body is a mirror image of your daily rigors (or lack thereof). When an exception to that status quo occurs, such as moving into a new residence, changing a spare tire, etc., you are either physically prepared for it, or not. Looks are obviously a factor at this point, but your value of preparedness is the real question.

Being strong and powerful is basically an insurance policy. But if you’re hemming and hawing about the cost to join a gym, just look at the health coverage deductions on your paystubs. As Mom would say, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Tip: As cliché as it sounds, feel the burn. Get someone knowledgeable to spot you and push your physical limits to the extreme from time to time. If you don’t have a spotter or a trainer, find a challenging resistance and push as hard and as fast as you can without sacrificing form or control. Safety first obviously, but you may be surprised at what you can do.

Rules Of Engagement: First Dates

So, I met this girl online last winter, which, especially as a writer, I do believe can be a great way to find compatible dating partners…assuming of course the individuals represent themselves truthfully and sincerely in the early goings…which, as I write this, I guess I must acknowledge is a fairly significant assumption…

I digress.

She was 22, had a good job in the medical field, was very cute and had phenomenal body. Really great tits…an ass I immediately wanted to bite (gently, of course). After what I will admit was far too limited initial correspondence, we agreed to meet at a bar close to my place for drinks and a few games of pool.

Conversation was free and easy out of the gate, with both of us verifying our respective status of “happily single”, as in, “it’s unlikely anything monogamous is going to come from this, but there is no reason we can’t have a good time getting to know one another and seeing what unfolds”.*

*While I can say that I was quite sincere in this, it has been my experience that women often are not.

The verbal exchange took a favorable turn towards our respective sexual inhibition, travelling the precarious curves of kink/freakiness with ease before finally parking us into that sweet, unabashed space reserved for “the two drunkards in the corner making out and dry-humping one another as if nobody were watching”.

It was pretty absurd. And people were definitely watching. She was straddling me on my couch long before last call.

Unfortunately, things plateaued just as quickly. She proceeded to tease away until I finally asked her to leave a few hours later.

When I awoke the next morning, I realized that all I had to show for my date was a hangover, a sizeable bar tab, a bruised elbow from falling on some ice upon my inebriated return to the homestead – which matched a bruised ego – and a pair of balls the proverbial shade of cobalt kitchen glassware.

I realized in hindsight that my hot little love interest was something of a serial dater.

We touched base a few times afterwards, but neither party really wanted to dance that two-step again. After all, I had my pride and balls to look after, and she no doubt had attention and free drinks to solicit from participants more willing to play games than I.

I also realized that, had my puny prequalification been just a bit more thorough, I would have saved myself some frustration. Figuring future dating could benefit from the experience in some way, I began to consider how a few guidelines might serve to better prepare me for one-night stands and beyond in the future.

Taking a page from elementary studies, which seems appropriate given the way grown folks behave in pursuit of one another, my analysis is represented below in the old five-question format.

WHO is this little tenderloin you desire? Most men, at least in regards to sexual encounters, are opportunistic, if not pathetic animals. All we need is a single crumb of hope and we can massage our gullible minds into delusions of plenty…she becomes to you whoever it is that you want her to be in your head. This is unfair to both of you. The reserves of time and money would be far better served by some patience and a thorough analysis of the subject in question.

Who is she, really? Have you asked enough meaningful questions to ensure that she is worth the effort? That she is worth the expense? The only delusion more damning than the aforementioned delusion of “plenty” is the delusion of “scarcity”, or, in other words, the abandoning of logic for fear that another opportunity is light years away.

It’s not. Opportunities are everywhere. Patience assures that you are clearheaded enough to recognize the right opportunities, regardless of your end objective.

WHAT is it that you seek in the realm of relationship, grasshopper? Is it love? Is it sex? Are you flying by the crotch of your pants with no agenda at all?

If she’s more than just a little committed to her Washington Avenue routine, ritualistically dressing up for her simpleminded flock of girlfriends, and, conversely, you’re more concerned with your gym routine and pitching dinner, candlelight and romantic comedies, you’re fucked.

Because, again, when the hormones of our nether regions begin to swirl and pulsate, our minds become as lithe as a slick, old alley cat. They begin lobbying for the person you’re pining for, striving to justify behavior (both yours and hers) as well as the reasons the other person is a good fit. We all do this. But, eventually, the truth will shine through and you will have no choice but to acknowledge it.

Know what you want. Don’t swindle yourself. And in regards to hoes, in the judicious words of Project Pat, might I suggest, don’t save her…she don’t wanna be saved.

WHY? What are your primary motivations in dating, really? Are you rebounding from a breakup or a nasty divorce and dismissing the need to heal and/or regroup emotionally? Are the folks busting your balls to grow up and settle down, or, similarly, are you feeling pressured by friends who are getting hitched and starting families? Or perhaps you’re just one of the many in society who would rather settle and be “spoken for” than remain single with the desolate feeling of being “alone”?

There are more in that last demographic than you would imagine. I was there once. I ended up in an awful marriage. Then I realized my illness, solved it, and wound up very happily divorced. Conquering the addictive nature of relationship was imperative for me personally in learning how to enjoy bachelordom and the magnificence of independence in general (which, ironically, has benefited my relationship endeavors both romantic and otherwise).

Perhaps you think you’re too cool to ponder such matters, but, and I say this from my own trials and errors, life happens and it happens fast. The more assured and steadfast your relationship non-negotiables are, the less likely you will be to suddenly find yourself staring at an unsavory situation with undertones of dissatisfaction and regret.

Know why and ruthlessly honor your highest objectives.

WHEN do you decide to strike a meeting? You pull the trigger at the exact moment your own personal criteria are met and you have a socially acceptable opportunity to do so.

No sooner…no later.

And if you are at all serious, have a plan before you approach her. Should you get a “yes”, and then inadvertently unveil the fact you were secretly expecting a “no”, or the fact you were basically throwing some shit against the wall to see if it would stick, the likelihood of failure immediately increases.

But most importantly, man up and make it happen. Don’t stall…don’t loiter. Remember that eye contact goes from RSVP to creepy mighty fast.

Now that you’ve deliberated and executed, WHERE do you take her? I’ve been told by females whose opinion I regard highly that creativity is essential in first date spot selection. Women are peculiar creatures who place inordinate emotional relevance upon things that seem trivial to men. The setting you select will, whether fairly or not, represent to her your opinion of her.

But creativity is a fickle animal herself. Not everyone can get away with using piss in an artistic depiction of Jesus. Your date location should represent you as much as it does any preconceived notion of who you believe her to be.*

*Unless you are certain that Applebee’s best embodies your personal brand. In which case you should stay home and masturbate. 

An ideal first date spot should be about balance. Not too loud, but not to quiet. Not too expensive, but not too cheap. Not too ordinary, but not too eccentric. Not too much you, and not too much her. And you can bet your ass she will be able to tell if you gave it too little thought, or too much, and she will respond accordingly.

In closing, when you consider how large a part of our lives relationships tend to absorb, whether you consider matters in this particular manner or in a way all your own, it is a no-brainer that you do your due diligence. Because, those romantic comedies? They’re bullshit.

For as the great Roman philosopher Seneca once alleged – who I heard ran through a lot of fine Roman bitches back in the Silver Age – luck is when preparation meets opportunity.

Ten Things Men Should Do From Time To Time

Life is hard. And there is no question we all have plenty going on upstairs. I created this list because I thought it would be an enjoyable read, but also because considering things like these is something that, once mature, a lot of us men don’t do often enough. We become the proverbial “old dogs”, and that’s unfortunate.

Anyway, I hope that you enjoy the following Ten Things Men Should Do From Time To Time and challenge one another to come up with a few of your own. 

1. Stand Your Ground. Literally. Common sense should always set the precedence, but when standing still in a public setting, baring an emergency of some sort, you have the right of way. When some aloof jackass encroaches upon your personal space, own it. Do not move. Do not give way. In some cases, I might even suggest a subtle elbow extension in the assailant’s direction, followed by an insincere apology.

Perhaps this makes me an asshole. I don’t care. Such flagrant, ignorant displays of disrespect – especially in social settings drinking is involved – are simply far too common for my taste. Making offenders of your private space aware of the offense is an honorable public service as far as I am concerned.

2. Pee Outdoors. Whether one opts for the “Sneaky Pete” maneuver (knees bent slightly, scanning the scene), or the “Zen master” (eyes closed in reverence, head tilted upwards and straight ahead), peeing outdoors is an indispensable aspect of being a man. May a cool autumn breeze waft through your pumpkin patch in the near future.

3. Write Out A List Of Personal Goals. Did this several years back…forgot about it…came across the list a few years later and was stunned at the number of items that came into fruition. Whatever your spiritual position on the mysteries of the Universe, I would argue that there has got to be something to this. Try it out. No risk…significant potential reward.

4. Call Out Another Man’s Bullshit. A while back I worked with this dude who – and I bullshit you not – was a master cellist (that would be one who has mastered the art of playing the cello), a semi-pro Frisbee golfer (a stat he would frequently boast to golfing business contacts who had no idea what the fuck he was talking about), a guy who was once “big into the Joplin street racing scene” (a suped up Escort or similar I believe it was), and who was also “certified” to do autopsies, whatever that means. In fact, “Certifications” were a big part of his social resume. He was also a former football star at Truman State and chairman of his fraternity; both astounding feats considering how fat and unathletic he was/is, and the fact no one seemed to like him.

He also was/is an extremely insecure asshole who would just as soon throw you under the boss’ Lexus as he would conjure up these embarrassingly absurd fabrications.

Nothing, I mean nothing brought me more joy than calling him out by simply asking questions, or mockingly suggesting, “you’re certified in that, aren’t you?”

Hopefully, compulsive liars like him are far and few between, but a lot of people bullshit and embellish facts believing the odds are that nobody cares to, or has the balls to challenge them. Sadly, they are often right about this. This ends with you now.

Similarly…

4. Put An Attractive Yet Bitchy Woman In Check. By most anyone’s standards, she was hot. And she’d been looking in my direction for a while that night. So when she made her way through the crowd and into my vicinity, I knew I had to say something before she passed.

I did – a simple flirtatious greeting of some sort – and was shocked when she greeted me back with an unmistakable look of disgust. I suppose my reply was as abrupt to her as it was sincere.

“You’re hot. But you’re clearly a bitch. Have a nice night.”

A lady friend of mine confirmed that my analysis lingered with her at least into the ladies room, where she bitched about my remark to her friends. This pleased me greatly.

5. Fix Something Yourself. There are three types of men in this world…those who are satisfied to have the funds to solve problems, those who take pride in solving problems themselves, and those who are capable of neither.

Obviously, avoid being that last one. And there is certainly no shame in paying for the services of a skilled professional. But tackling a project with no prior knowledge or expertise and finding success to some extent or another often produces a degree of fulfillment unmatched.

6. Go To A Crowded Bar Alone. Not as a social outcast, but as an observer of the communal landscape. Absorb and imbibe the scene. Do so with an air of conviction and you may even pique someone’s interest. But don’t do it all the time. That’s creepy.

7. Read A Book. I’m embarrassed for our society that reading an entire book is as novel a concept as it is. But it’s as good for our cognitive faculties as it is entertaining. And if your objection to reading an entire book is related to a poor attention span…well…case in point.

8. Sing Karaoke. I’m kidding. Unless you have legitimate talent, you need to cut that shit out. And don’t tell me you’re “just having a good time” either. What you’re doing is seeking a drunken escape from a life that clearly lacks a legitimate creative outlet, and you’re doing it at the expense of others who are likely actually trying to have a legitimate good time.

The same applies for those attempting to start waves at sporting events. Therefore, my actual suggestion is that you be sure to have a legitimate creative outlet in your life and that you nurture it, but also that you…

9. Boo A Shitty Karaoke Singer. And/or…

10. Boo A Wave Starter. They’ve had it coming for some time now.

Thoughts? Got a few of your own? Deeply offended and wish to retaliate? Do not hesitate.

Building A Workout Routine

“I feel like Bambi taking his first steps.” 

Looking back, it was a statement that would prove as historically profound as it was accurate at that point in time for me personally. I climbed gingerly (pun intended) off of the incline leg press. Officially birthed into the world of weight training, a long, arduous journey had begun. Fittingly, the person administering the punishment on that fateful day was none other than my own mother.

Mom has always been a pretty strong lady, and she had been training for some time when I decided to try to keep up with her at her gym one day. Her work on the leg press – a seated exercise where weight is forced upwards at approximately a 45 degree angle – called for sets of twelve repetitions. I labored through them with the same weight she applied for herself. A single plate in this case…a whopping 45 lbs in addition to the weight of the machine.

Rugged. I know.

I was there, humbled and weak, because I had finally committed to the idea of incorporating an exercise routine into my life. While this may be a critical first step towards improved health and fitness, it is hardly the greatest obstacle one faces along the way. Many people indulge their ambitions of better health. Few stay the course.

For the next couple of months I scuffled about the gym in no particular direction, by myself, until eventually consulting with a personal trainer friend. Having realized how frail I was at the hand of a woman who cries during Meg Ryan films she has seen no less that fifty times, a women who had also recently knitted me a scarf, motivation was high and no longer an issue.

What I needed was a realistic, proven channel for my energy, and I needed to find it before the frustration of poor results defeated my young efforts.

I needed a routine.

What he outlined for me was almost embarrassingly simple, yet I carried his instructions on a small sheet of paper for a little over a year.

Push Day
Bench Press
Overhead Press
Weight-Assisted Dips
Incline Leg Press
Sit-Ups

Pull Day
Weight Assisted Pull-Ups
Seated Compound Row
Barbell Shrugs
Bicep Curl
Hamstring Curl

Push…chest, shoulders, triceps, quads and abs. Pull…upper back, middle and lower back, traps, biceps and hamstrings. Muscles that when worked would also exercise muscles I didn’t even know existed. I was to do sets of 3 or 4 and repetitions of anywhere from 8 to 20, depending upon the weight. 

It was simple. It was straightforward. And it even offered a degree of freedom, which I very much appreciated. 

Plenty of information is available on these specific movements and the muscles they challenge, so I am not going to go into all of that. And it should be noted that this was an introduction to the gym and its equipment that a novice like myself needed to master prior to attempting a more rigorous practice. But in that it created “core” strength, balance and stability by focusing on the larger muscles (relative in my case at the time) and their “antagonists” (opposing muscles), as well identifying a routine that I could place my trust in, it was perfect.

Regardless of your level of exertion or your individual fitness goals, this is where your routine should begin and – while there will be adaptation and expansion – it is in this vein that it should remain.

A workout will evolve over time…or at least it should. Nautilus and weight-assisted machines give way to barbells…barbells give way to dumbbells…more and more synergist and stabilizing muscles are involved and personal objectives are modified as their predecessors are realized. But a strong foundation is imperative, not only in reducing the risk of injury, but in creating faith in a system and the confidence that the results will be there.

And take it from a guy who not so long ago had that baby deer-in-the-headlights look and the legs match…the results will be there if the right habits are formed.

Need help? Hit me up.

Gym Etiquette: Don’t Be These Guys

Oh, the things you will see at the gym if you stick with it for a while. A social studies class will unfold before your eyes, and its subject matter will be as diverse as the flavor-of-the-month fat-burn fads and diets being discussed by fat people not exercising. 

The female regulars are fascinating. They promenade to the treadmills and elliptical machines, gently padding their brows with soft, color-coordinated towels, wearing those blessed yoga pants…

We forgive you, but there is no way that all of your asses are that hale and hearty.  

But regardless of the garb you sport, as I understand it, men are not even supposed to be looking. No matter how you bounce, or saunter, or stretch, or bend, or how you switch your sexy hips back and forth. 

We get it. You’re there to work out. Whatever.   

Beyond that gentle jab taken mostly out of the sexual frustration men are forced to endure, I will leave them alone. Hell, they’re pretty much the only reason men exercise in the first place. Safe to say we covet their being at the gym at all. Get a few perusing about and – I swear to God – I get ten percent more weight up on everything I do. I stay longer, too. Maybe get the leg work in I might have otherwise skipped.

But today I want to focus on the guys. And not just any guys, but the guys we must take special care to not become as we embark upon the temperamental world of fitness.

Take a stroll with me into the locker room of suck.

The Diva. You sexy, bitch, you. Your hair, molded with the precision of a wedding ice sculpture. Your skin, bronzed to perfection, as if the Grecian sun paid homage to your every repetition. Your scent, fully accounted for, via whatever aerosol body spray personified your sweet swagger that day. For the gym is your place to shine. And you will not be stopped.

But you should be.

You look, and smell, like a jackass. And, frankly, if you are a straight man without any tropical destination on the near horizon, you should not be tanning.  

The man-children of Jersey Shore are not cool. They weren’t even intended to represent that which is considered cool. They were a spectacle fabricated to be mocked for the entertainment value of those existing in reality, as opposed to reality shows.

Cool equals calm and self-assured, nonchalant…perhaps even a bit indifferent. The effort you are putting into your appearance suggests that you are anything but these things…that you have identified the gym – not as the place to get your fitness shit done so that you can have an enhanced, healthily-supplemented, well-rounded life – but as the core of your very existence.

Which is just sad.  

The Socialite. For shits sake, do you ever shut up? Do I even know you? Honestly, anyone who talks as much to strangers as you do I pretty much assume is trying to sell me Amway or something. 

Suffice to say that your mouth is the fittest part of your entire body, and that you could stand to focus your energy elsewhere…which I might have suggested had I wanted to talk to you.  

Cues that I do not wish to continue extraneous conversation may include, but are not necessarily limited to:

1. Not responding to you with recognizable words, instead opting for nods and grunts

2. Repeatedly attempting to reinsert my ear buds mid-conversation

3. Aloofly walking away

Look, nobody wants to hurt your feelings because hurting peoples’ feelings sucks. But if you don’t take your one-way conversation elsewhere, I am going to embarrass us both. 

Better yet, go talk to The Diva. The Diva could use a friend.

The Neanderthal a.k.a.The Grunter. Seriously, and I know I have said this before; you have got to breathe when lifting. But if your method of breathing requires you to bellow out like you’re trying to coax Leviathan from your bowels, then you, sir, are either lifting too much weight or taking the whole thing way too fucking seriously.

I can hear the meatheads now…

“I can’t help it, brah! I get into it, brah! I’m getting’ jacked/swoll/yoked/etc, braaaahhhh!” 

You’re at fucking Club Fitness, brah. You need to settle down.

Personal Trainer Guy Who Isn’t Actually A Personal Trainer. There is a saying that those who can’t do, teach. Sadly, this is often the case. Those who can are often busy doing.

Still, you have got to admire this guy. So much enthusiasm…so inspired…brimming with knowledge that he is eager to share.

His heart is in the right place. Unfortunately, there are only two scenarios in which case unsolicited workout tips are acceptable: 

1. You see someone clearly frustrated, visibly and obviously struggling with a particular machine or motion that you are familiar

2. You see someone endangering themselves or others around them

That is it. Otherwise, you simply must curb your enthusiasm and carryon on the solo tip.

Slider, You Stink. And so, from The Diva, we now come full-circle.

You are going to the gym to sweat. And you are already a bit ripe from a long day. Showering beforehand would be impractical, right?

In theory, yes…yes, it would be.

Yet, while you have had the entire day to grow accustomed to the stench emerging from your bacteria-laden pits, the rest of us have not. The thought alone of someone with hygiene as poor as yours touching the same dumbbells, barbells and doorknobs as the rest of us is disgusting and possibly threatening to the immune systems of those just reading this.

The bottom line is that there is no indoor, public setting whatsoever where others should be forced to smell your funk. Ever. This goes for hippies, too. Patchouli is not an acceptable substitute for cleanliness.   

To my less odiferous fitness connoisseurs, it is your duty to thwart such offenders by speaking up. You don’t have to be a jerk about it, but you damn sure don’t have to be a pussy about it either. The fact that a person might be offended by another person mentioning that said person’s offensive odor is offensive is ridiculous. 

We all have the right to be comfortable at the gym.

And that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Being comfortable enough to do what you need to do so that you can live the best life possible? It is hard enough to be healthy and fit without making it harder for one another.

So consider your actions and be a positive (or neutral) factor for the good people around you, and try your best to not creep out the hot girls. Contrary to the d-bag in the winter stocking cap gawking at his own glistening, hairless calves, that’s what the mirrors are for.

Strength Training 101

It’s an interesting dynamic…guys working out with one another. It’s all good when it’s a close friend, but when partnering up with an acquaintance at your local gym, or simply exchanging spots with a stranger to maximize one another’s lifts, it can be awkward and not always easy to put egos aside.

While training folks at a west county gym, a fellow employee – a smart-ass, suburbanite kid who worked the front desk and walked around as if he’d accomplished something more than the fine art of the perfect towel-fold – asked me for a spot. For many reasons, I did not like this guy. But I obliged.

The maneuver was a reverse-grip bench press, a plate (45 lbs) on each side. I don’t have a problem with switching things up, but the motion itself did not and does not appeal to me personally.

When he walked away to catch his breath after a set, I climbed onto the bench and banged out 20 quick reps with a normal frontward grip.

“Dude. What are you doing.”

It was more an arrogant declaration of my failing to satisfy his expectations than any concerned inquiry, so it was only fair that I reply in kind. 

“Just throwing up this little ass weight you were doing, homey. What’s the problem?”

A debate then ensued about whether or not I was going deep enough into my motion, bringing the bar close enough to my chest in this particular circumstance.

Then Exhibit B was brought up…a pissing match between a few of us employees the week before. The challenge: a dumbbell bench press, 100 pounds in each hand. The most I had ever done was 85, incidentally the day before. The stars were aligned just right and I managed to get them up a few times, which was a few times more than he or anyone else on that day.  

But there is always a haters. And to at least this guy, I wasn’t using proper form.

Not then…not now.

Who the fuck was he? Some cocky little fuck still living with his parents is giving me workout advice? I’m fucking certified! Shouldn’t he be checking on the old guys in the locker room, making sure there’s enough baby powder on their balls or something?

Man, fuck this dude.

Fuck him.

. . .

Fuck

. . .

Fuck me.

My reaction was damning evidence enough. Once I had calmed myself, I had no choice but to acknowledge that, at least to an extent, he was right.

I was about 145 pounds soaking wet when I first started lifting weights. As of this column I am around 180. I’ve been able to gain muscle as opposed to fat while maintaining a 32-33 waist.

And speaking of 180, that’s about the degree of turn I had to make in order to progress on the health and fitness tip. I was a fucking disaster in my early twenties and I’m proud of how far I’ve come. At 30 years of age I am in the best shape of my life.

Therein lies the problem. Early on it was about not being skinny and weak. I focused and worked hard. At some point, the results began to show. I focused and worked hard. But eventually the novelty wears off, and you’re faced with what is left. A lifestyle…habits chosen. It becomes harder to focus and work hard. There are days, and sometimes weeks where you are literally just going through the motions.

That’s when you find yourself being chided by a 21-year-old man-child who jerks off to techno music and wipes off with a shmedium tee that his mother probably washes for him.

And that’s the exact moment in time you must remind yourself of these exercise fundamentals. Also helpful if you are just getting started.  

Warm Up. I resisted this for a long time due to the fact that gaining muscle mass was difficult for me; my metabolism runs high and I didn’t want to burn extra calories. But the fact is that by warming up with 5-10 minutes of cardio (elliptical, treadmill, a brisk jog, etc.), you prime your body for a good workout. A warm muscle contracts and relaxes more easily, allowing for faster, more powerful movements. Higher body temperature means your muscles have greater elasticity, which is ideal for exercise, but also aids in avoiding strains and pulls. And there is certainly something to be said for preparing yourself mentally.   

Use Good Form. The amount of weight and number repetitions you do means nothing if your form is poor. Not only can bad form and posture lead to injury, but it often causes muscles you were not intending to work out to become activated, thus minimizing the effectiveness of your training.

Good form is everything.   

Lift The Proper Amount Of Weight. If you are unsure about the amount of weight you should be using, a good gauge is to find the amount that you can do 12 reps comfortably. 3 or 4 sets at that weight will bring results and allow for the aforementioned implementation of proper form. Add more weight as you gain strength and familiarity of your routine.

Breathe. Fight the desire to hold your breath while lifting. A purple face doesn’t help your lift and you might shit your pants if you’re not careful. Breathing out upon exertion helps you to develop a rhythm, maintain level blood pressure, and to not shit your pants.

Keep A Balanced Routine. One problem that comes with becoming strong in a particular area of the body is that you’ll enjoy working that area more than others. I’ve seen many a strong-chested man with an untrained back. He’s the guy whose shoulders are pulled forward by his pecs due to weak lats. The result is a knuckle-dragging-Neanderthal kind of look. Some women probably like that sort of thing, but most do not.

Remember that everyone is stronger in some body parts than others by design. But once you train the weaker areas, they become as enjoyable to exercise as the rest.

Switch It Up. For some of us, health and fitness is a labor of love. For others, it’s a means to an end. Regardless, you will get bored at times, you will get sloppy at times, and you will get lazy at times. Whatever you can do to keep your routine fresh and agreeable will help you to remain safe and engaged in times of struggle.

But you gotta do it. Because being unhealthy, I assure you, is more difficult.

Swallow your pride and get to work. But do it right. Need help? Drop me a line.