The Most Powerful Fat Burner: Love?
One very fit man’s very personal story about how love changed everything around for him: his health, his weight, his entire being.
Mind-Bender Emotions
They ask a Bektashi sufist if he’s ever fallen in love.
“I was once about to,” says he timidly, “but I got caught red-handed.”
Foreword: This is more of a stupid personal story which will sound funny to me sooner or later than serious advice and I know it doesn’t fit in the general concept or purpose of the website. Please welcome this pathetic Gregor Samsa who promises to write on more useful issues in future.
That being said, I understand why love stories prevail and are best sellers. Three months ago I thought I would by now have made good progress with my experimental novel, set in two alternative (Near future sci-fi & post-Freudian) universes, revolving around oppositions such as asceticism/hedonism, extreme sexuality/social norms, war/peace, crime/punishment, upper/lower classes and materialism/metaphysics. I also thought I’d have completed the script of a documentary for which I was asked to collaborate. Back then, my first post on this website was supposed to be about my lower back problems and how I’d been getting back on track. In short, a relationship would have seemed like more of a burden than anything.
It all changed when I sent Marla Singer a poem I’d written for her birthday.
Sometimes you meet a person and right there you realize it is impossible not to go beyond friendship unless you remain distant altogether. I’d known my Marla for a year, we’d obviously had that chemistry all the time. Nevertheless, I stayed behind the scenes all the time… because she was taken. It wasn’t that I had any expectations on her birthday. I knew that she liked poetry, and that she liked things I wrote to her every now and then, but I didn’t know I’d get a response like “I love the way you talk to me and I’m saving everything you’ve written to me.”
And obviously I didn’t know she’d tell me “I left him” a week later. She did. Apparently he was going to study abroad (Germany, Evil) and she’d left him.
I took it slow in the following month. I was the same old me, focused on his goals and keeping his emotions behind. More often than not, I’d keep it to myself, for I wanted her to be with me not because she felt lonely, but because she wanted me. I noticed I was spending more time talking to her and writing to her than writing my fiction. I don’t remember any other situation or period in my life when spending studying/working time with someone didn’t bother me. For the first time in a long time I wanted to look better to someone.
“I don’t like big guys,” said she, “and less muscle if possible. I can’t stop thinking you could kill me with a single blow. Am I dysthymic?”
“Wait for a couple of months and you’ll love what you see!”
“I don’t like big guys, and less muscle if possible. I can’t stop thinking you could kill me with a single blow. Am I dysthymic?”
So my initial to-be-posted-here draft “How to get back on track while managing lower back problems” evolved into “How to better your condition and physical form after long-lasting injuries.”
I told her to remind me of working out every single day, which she did.
Don’t lift anything anymore please!
Shock #1: The Ambassador
Ever since I met her, she’s admired my intelligence. In fact, she once told me that her boyfriend had told her “How is your smart friend doing? There is something I don’t like about this guy.” He hadn’t seen me, I think he didn’t like the way she talked about me. Well, it wasn’t the first time a guy with a girlfriend had reacted that way to me so I wasn’t surprised. But things were always unusual between us. For instance, I’d kept her cell # on my mind when I saw it in a form she’d filled. Totally uncharacteristic of me. She was surprised when I got back at her later. We’d met in a government building, she had laughed so hard when I told her it was the first time the state had done me a favor.
She always wanted to see me back at school. A week after she’d informed me on her break up, she invited me to her classes. I kept that in mind, and as we got more and more intimate, I considered to bring that offer up. To meet her friends, to participate in some lectures, something I haven’t done for a year, all of that sounds fine. But there is a problem, it suddenly seems. “Well, he’s usually with me during lectures, we should meet somewhere else.”
What? I thought she’d been single for a month. Hadn’t he gone abroad already?
“His visa application was rejected,” she says, “I wanted to leave him but he cried so hard that I didn’t know what to do.” I get disappointed and irritated. “Where and when I see you can’t be up to a yes or no uttered by an ambassador.” Why didn’t I get to you Evil, and make you a million dollar offer so that you might make things easier for him to get out for good?
Surprisingly, she likes my attitude. We meet a couple of days later.
– I asked him if our relationship was up to an ambassador’s opinion, and he begged that I gave him one last chance. If he let me go, I’d never see him again. But he doesn’t do that.
– Unless you’re lying to me, you know you can’t carry on out of pity. He cries, he sure will. I cried a lot at past too. I went to watch a horse race and I cried when horses were whipped. The pain is intense but not permanent. We’re at a certain point where somebody has to get hurt, don’t you think?
She laughs so hard that she falls on her knees in the middle of the street.
Apparently, it was the first time in their relationship that she’d met someone without letting him know beforehand. “I’m probably losing you,” he said. She kept on seeing me.
Pictures courtesy of Vectorportal and Joe Wu.
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