I chanced upon an article in yesterday's Metro on physical "sexercise" - various fitness tips to help improve one's love life. I've never really thought about sexercise before - apart from it having once been a porn site run by Kira Reed - and personally I think that physical fitness doesn't always equate to skill in bed - it's more to do with the touch, or the connection - but I do need to build a bit of muscle, sex or no sex. Glancing through the mere three tips and wishing once again that somebody would make something like Scarlet magazine for men, I found a couple that I thought I could do without looking like a twat. I ripped out the page, stuffed it into my bag, and went on my merry way.
A couple of hours later and I'm finding myself on my break at work. I know, I think to myself, I'll give a couple of those exercises a go. I return to my bag and pull out the crumpled page. In the dim light of the break room, and mercifully on my own, I squint at the instructions. I start with a plié, before I realise that that one's suggested for women. The male equivalent - designed to strengthen the shoulders and core - involves doing a full-arm plank: lying face-down and lifting yourself up off the floor, akin to a press-up. Then hold.
I give it a go before falling back to the floor after about ten seconds, gasping for breath. Okay, maybe arm strength isn't my main thing. So I move on.
The next paragraph is about building stamina. The example they give uses a treadmill or exercise bike, and I don't have any of those to hand in the break room. I don't think they're the sort of things my company shells out for (or can afford to, considering they only pay me £8 per hour). So I improvise, by jogging on the spot for sixty seconds before slowing down for a few. Hmmm, I reflect, I don't feel any fitter. In fact, I feel a bit like an idiot, jogging on the spot in the middle of a dim, empty room. I scan the page of Metro again.
"Perform this two to three times a week in addition to your weights," advises the article.
Weights? What weights? Nobody said anything about weights! I had enough trouble lifting my bulk off the floor with my hands and toes! Now they want me to do weights? They're nowhere else in the article! (NB: I had no idea, at this point, that I would be carrying IKEA furniture later in the day. There, I've done my weights.)
So I move on.
The final exercise is based around the pelvic thrust, which really drives you insane. That, I'm sure I can do... until I notice that the suggestion is to do so lying flat on your back. A quick glance around and furtive listen at the door convinces me that there's nobody approaching. Taking a deep breath, I lie down on the floor, place my arms by my side, bend my knees... and thrust. It all seems fine, I can do it - in fact, I can do it well. I speed up a bit, I slow down a bit, I clench my gluteus maximus, I rest a little and repeat. Brilliant! This is something I'm good at! My sex life is going to be awesome!
At this point, I realise I'm making love to the air, and with that, another small part of my life dies away.
Upon reflection now, I can see how much of an idiot I must have looked to the outside observer... but there weren't any outside observers at that point, so I was safe; however safe that may have been, anyway. Not that I could see how thrusting into thin air may have done any good. But I'd completed the session. Only for Valentine's this year, I think a couple of rounds of good ol' romantic sex will do just as nicely.
I needed to finish off before returning to work, however... so I did the plié after all.