There’s a man that works out at the same gym I do in the mornings that my wife and I call “The Talker.” I would predict that he can’t shut his mouth for more 10 minutes without having a cerebral hemorrhage. He talks to everyone, incessantly; there have been days when I have completed my whole weight routine in the time he has done three sets of one exercise while flapping his gums.
By all appearances he is a total pig. He watches all the women that work out around him-in obvious fashion. In the locker room, all of his conversations eventually get around to sex, and in typically crude speech. When doing reps, he grimaces and screws up his face like he is in total pain, and then he looks around right after he finishes to see how many people are looking at him. I suppose he could be considered strong, since he lifts quite a bit of weight, but his cardio program is obviously not working for him.
Yesterday, as I write this, he made a comment to his workout partner, “Valentine’s Day. What a stupid holiday! I suppose I would be happy if I was selling flowers or chocolates or something.” Now, I’ve seen this guy in the grocery store with his wife. She leads him around like she’s got a leash around his testicles. If I had to guess I’d say she lets him have sex with her about once every three months-and obviously it’s not on Valentine’s Day.
Valentine’s Day is not about chocolates or candy or cute greeting cards. It is about taking time out of your day to spend a moment with your special someone. We all lead busy lives, and we need excuses like this one to break us out of the rat race and into the arms of people we care about. The Talker, of all people, needs every bit of help he can get to score a little nookie.