Like riding the subway or running out to the corner store to get toilet paper, tampons and seltzer, working out is one of those activities that occurs in public space, but is widely acknowledged as private. I will work out begrudgingly, but usually prefer to do so in the privacy of my own home, or an anonymous gym somewhere deep in the bowels of New York, away from any place where I might run into anyone I know. This is just how I am. I especially have no desire to work out with a significant other. It’s not that I think that a light jog with your partner is bad. I think it’s nice to have someone to motivate you to do stuff that is hard and shitty, like dieting or losing weight or quitting smoking, or not drinking for a month. It’s not for me but it’s nice. But this workout, as demonstrated by a gross dude in a beanie and his ostensibly Barre Method-trained girlfriend on Cosmo‘s channel CosmoBody, somehow manages to make the simple art of fitness kind of uncomfortable and strangely sexual.
The road to physical fitness is long and hard, full of sweat and sports bras and water and anxiety. It’s a journey that is best taken with someone else, but not necessarily with the person you’re dating. For the record, I think there are some things that are definitely helpful to have support with. If you choose to diet, it is nice to have the person you spend the most of your time with doing the same, or at least helping you along the way. I can’t imagine quitting smoking with another person, especially someone that I was sleeping with regularly, because I imagine that after two weeks, only one would survive. But, if that’s what wets your whistle, then by all means, be my guest. It’s fine to go to the gym with someone that you’re dating, if that’s the kind of activity you are into, but these intimate, touchy, exercises seems just … wrong.
What happened to freedom? What happened to personal space? What happened to the ability to go to the gym and sweat like you’re dying on the elliptical for an hour while watching HGTV, alone? There are some places that, even though they are public, are places where you deserve solitude. Leave your shmoopie-face at home, kids. Work out by yourself. Or at least don’t bench press your boo where I can see you.
Original by: Megan Reynolds