O MMA Fighter Guy!
I know you are an MMA Fighter Guy because you are wearing one of those bulky hats with a perfectly flat brim, rotated just slightly to the right. You are often barefoot or in socks, despite the urging of several signs in your immediate vicinity. I swoon knowing that this rebellious, devil-may-care attitude will mean the certain annihilation of your opponent in the MMA Fighter Guy Championship Match for which you are surely preparing.
Most gym rats make methodic sex noises whilst they lift; three grunts of exertion with the heaviest weight and then…done. BORRRING! You, MMA Fighter Guy, make karate chop sounds and jump erratically in a circle around the cable machine, yanking that handle toward the floor like you’re laying the smack down – each rep a titillating hi-YAH! I can only assume, nay, fantasize, that being in the throes of passion with you would be like making sweet love to a character from Mortal Kombat.
I’ve seen the TV show The Ultimate Fighter and I know that there are special gyms for MMA Fighter Guys like you. They have cages and mat space where you can wrap your legs around other MMA Fighter Guys and perform very intimate sit-ups. I don’t know if you can’t afford a membership at one of these establishments or if you have been banished (for a sit-up faux pas?). Either way, your presence gives me a secret thrill, and keeps alive my hope that maybe, just maybe, you are doing very fast pushups with pronounced exhales in my neighborhood 24 Hour Fitness out of … love.
TKO...of my heart.
Occupation: Cubicle Monkey 