I used to be fat, but then I stumbled on, with the help of my wife, just a little extra motivation: “Why don’t you hire a hot trainer?” she said.
Never one to do things half-assed, or to look a gift horse in the mouth (not to call you a horse, babe), I hired not one but four. (Well, really two, but at least initially, four….)
I placed an ad on Craigslist: the ad said, essentially, “I need a hot trainer to motivate me. If you’re willing to dress as I reasonably request and willing to talk endlessly and openly about sex with me…. Let me be clear: I’m NOT looking for sex.”
I weeded through the responses – many were from “legitimate” trainers who professed to be scandalized by what I was proposing, but nonetheless responded, in hopes that what I really wanted was just a trainer. When I made it clear that I was serious – that I really wanted a trainer who would dress as I asked, and who was comfortable talking endlessly about sex – they evaporated. A whole other group were women simply looking for some extra money – neither trainers nor particularly compelled by the proposal.
But the third group – that was where the action was, for me. Women who were, genuinely, trainers, but who were maybe looking to beef up their clientele a bit. AND who were playful, who were intrigued, who were curious. I met these women for coffee, where we sat, objectified one another, and auditioned: would they take me as a client seriously? I wasn’t offering to pay more or differently than any other trainer’s client would pay, but I was asking for a whole lot more/different. And would I hire them? Were they hot enough? Flirty enough? Sexual enough?
At the end of the day, there were four with whom I established a rapport. None was what I would describe as my “type,” inasmuch as I have a type. Each was different. There was the Southern Belle, tall, lean, and seemingly princess-proper, who revealed herself to be a slut (or at least to enjoy portraying herself as one). My favorite tale of hers involved a guy who approached her on a train saying, “Wanna fuck?” Her answer: “Why yes! Yes, I do.” The Midwestern girl next door, brunette, stocky, muscular, who is painfully headed toward a conventionally monogamous existence with a guy – they’re not yet engaged, but seem to have a relationship doomed to unhappiness and sexual misery, at best. (He seems entirely uninterested in her entirely unexplored, but evidently quite healthy, appetite for being beaten.) The Actress – tall, blonde, angular – who’s kinky as all get-out, and yet nowhere near as kinky as her boyfriend (she’s into D/S; he’s into cuckolding). The Actress just loves talking about her – and my – exploits. I’m not sure which turn her on more. And the Weightlifter – who’s petite but built – vanilla and conventional, but very sexual, and loves to flirt.
The Southern Belle and the Midwestern Girl Next Door quickly evolved to supporting roles – they make occasional guest appearances in my fitness life, when I have a jones for one or the other.
But the other two? They have staying power. I hired them each more than two years ago, and we’re all still together. I weight a lot less now, and we know each other a lot better….