Mixing Sex and the Gym

Or: Using the Gym to Pull One Off Can Sometimes Backfire

A response to "Workin' it at the Gym"

Whether you're doing it to look better, to meet people, or to just lower your blood butter from movie popcorn to normal levels, you've got to actually go to the gym to get something out of it. For some, the mixture of sex and the gym keeps them coming, literally and figuratively. That's right: Kristen Elde can get off at the gym, the lucky minx. The idea of pulling one off at the gym is perfect — working out releases endorphins, and that high manages to keep many patrons coming back for more. Yet a work out high is like a blow dart compared to the beautiful shotgun blast of getting off. The subsequent association of endorphins with gym equipment can only lead to more gym visits, better abs, and perhaps a bedroom obsession with chromed lead and faux leather.

Yet not everyone is as fortunate as Ms. Elde. Not all women come with an extra ten reps on the sit up machine. It is characteristic of men that they can reach orgasm any time/anywhere they want, but one only get away with that once, maybe twice, before one's gym membership is revoked.

So, throwing out the possibility of semi-spontaneous gym orgasms, does mixing sexuality with the gym help or hinder workout? Many see lithe, muscular bodies at a gym as eye carrots, providing that extra incentive to stop in and lift something.

Wrong. The truth is this: attractive people (and thoughts of sex with said people) are workout kryptonite. If you're going to really work out at the gym, you're going to look and smell like wet cat. You're going to grunt at inopportune moments. If you're surrounded by people you'd like to see naked, you're going to do everything in your power to not appear wet or weak. Attractive people lead to wearing makeup at the gym, or worse: attractive people lead to serious injury.

That's right. Attractive people can get you or your loved ones hurt. A gym is a place to get fit, but it's also a place filled with fast machines, heavy lead and sharp edges; a death trap if improperly used. If you don't know what you're doing on certain machines, you will pull things that perform better in their original locations and are not covered by warranty.

Pretty people lead to pain for several reasons. You don't want to appear a novice, so you don't ask questions. Instead, you use a weight machine incorrectly, transforming it from something that exercises your delts to a medieval torture device that exorcizes demons. Perhaps you go to a machine you are familiar with, but you don't want to appear a weakling because sexy-pants is next to you. So you pack on weight to impress, and instead pop out a piece of stomach lining that previously was the first sign of abs.

Sexy patrons lead to death. To avoid an untimely end, you must seek out the elderly. One foot on the treadmill, the other in the grave. Look for shopping centers filled with chiropractors and opticians, parking lots filled with Volvos and vans. There, you will find a gym that caters to thirty-somethings. Inside, you will be surrounded by people ravaged by time. Fallen, pitted flesh. Southerly migrating hair. All of this partially stuffed into eighties-era neon spandex.

In a word, heaven. If you want to get fit, this is the place for you. Nervous about sweating? The person next to you is a puddle. Afraid you smell? Johnny doesn't-believe-in-deodorant easily covers up your fragrance faux pas. Afraid to ask a question? The near-dead are world-renowned for their willingness to offer unsolicited advice.

You will be the belle of the ball. Eyes will grow to the size of early bird-buffet dinner plates as you curl your five pound pink plastic weight without a spotter. People will gasp and grab for their oxygen masks as you scale the top of the Stairmaster and plant your white towel at its peak.

So if you want to become a more attractive person, forget sex at the gym. With a couple more visits, maybe you'll get the chance to exercise those muscles at home.

— Colin Alexander (colin_alexander at hotmail dot com)