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An Analysis on Healthy Habits

by The Untitled Man 6 months ago in fetishes
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The Untitled Man

The Untitled Man speaks on so-called “healthy habits” and his absolute disdain for them.

The other day I was at the gym and I was running on a treadmill— I did not feel good. I was running very fast and I had a moment where I thought to myself, “Why am I doing this? Is the reason vanity? Is it health? What’s the purpose of doing three sets of a hip flexor asshole cruncher workout?” It’s extremely painful going to the gym. I feel like dying, figuratively, of course.

There are a lot of women in my gym. They wear tight clothing and do little movements with their bodies that are uniquely feminine. I saw one the other day that wore tight turquoise shorts. She finished her workout and, for some reason, felt the need to dramatically flip her hair downwards, then upwards, like in a commercial. She had long hair that cascaded down her back. I always wonder how much of what women do is for themselves or for getting the attention of men. I didn’t look at her… I always see these things from the corners of my eyes. I’m afraid of looking at women.

I saw another woman that had a curvaceous body. I wish I knew a different way to describe a full-bodied woman. I have to fight the urge to use comically, terrible descriptors that have become the new lexicon for sex:

“That ass was fat.”

“I would clap those cheeks.”

“She was thick bruh.”

The curvaceous woman wore light, grey legging and her workout shirt… I don’t know specifically what type it was… was lifted up slightly at her lower back, revealing a lovely tattoo of hearts and roses. I fought the urge to look. I briskly walked away as blood dripped from my nose. I am an anime character. I also feel like an old Puritan from The Scarlet Letter. On a quick tangent, that is a fascinating book about humans dealing with sex, promiscuity, and an absolute reverence for God: a trifecta of things that secretly adore one another.

Returning to my original thought, I find that if I look at the woman with turquoise pants or the shapely woman with the tattoo of hearts and roses, my thoughts run amok and I imagine them both naked, dancing in front of me. I find that the exhaustion caused by the gym is conducive for sex.

I suppose that’s why I do it… subjecting my body to painful excercise. There is a part in my mind that seems to think that, once I get these muscles, I’ll simply be able to pose in a Herculean-like manner and women will just deliver themselves to me— no work, no need to have a personality— just muscles. Eventually, my charade will be torn apart. I imagine a woman tying me naked to a pole and just whispering this into my ear:

“Oh, you sad little man. You have nothing inside of you. You are devoid of anything that makes you interesting. You have no passion, skills, or any sort of vigor to you… all you have is these muscles and a perverse desire to masturbate… and watch me. I saw you watching me. How could I ever give myself to such a boring man?”

… all the while, this woman is just… I suppose I’ll leave that part out. There is always something disgusting about getting too descriptive with sex.

I am exhausted some days… desperately trying to cultivate my healthy, little habits. I feel like I am cracking like an egg and things like eating well, excercise, and pursuing my degree feel like strips of Scotch tape that are holding the proverbial egg together. As odd as it sounds, I desire to go bald and grow my beard quite long. I’d lock myself in a room and write thousands of stories about the cocaine model or the woman with the tattoo of hearts and roses. I would never leave the room, unless I finished a pencil. I would just write and write, until my hands bled or until these women somehow materialized in front of me as apparitions. N ow, safe to say, I can’t exactly live like that. I need to be fresh faced, muscular, and, in the words of Pablo Francisco, “… hair parted to the side… nice and successful!”

I have nothing else to say.

- The Untitled Man

fetishes

About the author

The Untitled Man

This man has no title… why should he be admitted?

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