I am a soul cycle instructor and I will make you a cuckold

It’s New Years Day. You moved in with your girlfriend of 3 years in November. It’s been going really well thus far, and your love for each other has only grown. There are times when there’s a bit of lull in conversation, but that’s just because you know each other so well, right? You still have plenty of fun together.

You’ve both spent a lot of time at work lately, and it’s paid off professionally, but both you and your gorgeous fiancee’s health have suffered a bit. Neither of you are fat, or even necessarily unhealthy. It was funny at first when your bellies came together during lovemaking and produced an adorable “poot,” but as it happens more, it’s just a reminder you’re not where either of you want to be with your physical fitness.

You make a pact with your girlfriend, looking into her sparkling green eyes, her face framed adorably by her chestnut brown bangs: let’s get fit together! It’ll be fun, and we can encourage each other. What a novel idea to make yourselves healthier and your relationship stronger.

You start going to the gym together 4 times a week. You stick with this schedule for a month, and the two of you feel great! And boy, it’s done wonders for your sex life, you both can’t get enough of each other. It’s like it was when you first started dating. Score! However, your schedule is too demanding. You don’t have the energy to exercise with such regularity and achieve the demanding schedule targets your fast-paced work environment requires.

You feel bad about breaking your promise to the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with, but she assures you she understands. She is able to balance her demanding work schedule, fitness goals, and her insatiable lust, but you just can’t keep up in any of those facets.

She keeps going to the gym . You start going twice a week. That drops off to one. A particularly tough week at work passes, and you haven’t made any trips to the gym at all. Bless your incredibly sexy fiancee’s heart, she still invites you every time, and doesn’t show a hint of disappointment when you turn her down. She is the perfect woman.

Your one week off becomes two. Two weeks become four. Another month passes. Your fiancee has continued with her fitness regimen, and she looks fantastic. God, you’re so proud of her. But you can’t exercise like that. You weren’t a schlub in high school, but you were never an athletic guy. It’s just not the way you’re wired. She loves you anyway.

One night she mentions she’s started taking a class. It’s included in the gym membership, she explains, so don’t worry about any extra costs. It’s a spin class. She tries to remember the exact name. It’s called…. something cycling. SoulCycle, she remembers. It’s her eureka moment.

It is the beginning of the end.

A week later she talks on the phone with a friend. She mentions someone named Braydon, laughing while relaying something he said. After she hangs up, you ask her who Braydon is. You make fun of his Gen Z name, likening him to one of those stupid Tik Tok stars. She feigns a laugh and tells you it’s her SoulCycle instructor’s name, and he’s nice so don’t make fun of him.

You notice her reading books about mindfulness and spiritual enlightenment. Early in your relationship you bonded with her over scoffing at the kinds of people who would rabidly consume this new-age fulfillment mindset garbage and parrot it un-ironically. You wonder where her newfound appetite for sincerity springs.

Your differing lifestyles have been causing some friction recently. She wants you to put more effort into this relationship. Take pride in your appearance. You’ve let yourself go a bit, and you understand where she’s coming from, but you’re too insecure to own up to this. You pick a fight. She cries. You’re too proud to talk about it before you go to sleep that night. She climbs into bed with stony silence, positioning herself as far away from you on the mattress as she can. It’s been two and half weeks since the last time you made love.

You half-heartedly reconcile the next morning, though it’s clear that you have been growing apart. She meets a ‘friend’ for coffee the next day. But I am no friend.

I am the mighty SoulCycle instructor. I am an opportunistic predator. I am a shoulder to cry on. I am the Ubermensch-ien manifestation of your jealousies. The equal and opposite to your physical insecurities. I am young Dolph Lundgren, and you are Wario with an overbite and a vitamin D deficiency. My jawline is chiseled, my hair effortlessly quaffed. My eyes are deep pools of blue, whose endless reserves of gentle current seem to have no end. You did not stand a chance.

The ‘coffee with a friend’ becomes a weekly endeavor. You begin to worry, but simultaneously doubt if your paranoia is justified. And though it is, your behaviors further alienates you from that which you love.

After a particularly bad fight, she leaves your shared apartment crying to stay the night with a friend. You, and only you, have driven her away, directly into my arms. She calls you the next day to tell you it’s over. You have lost.

Originally, I thought your now ex-fiancee would just be a nice piece of ass. She always seemed eager to please, and supremely confident in what she wanted, which is a dynamite combo in bed. We used to lock eyes on the climbing sections of the SoulCycle sessions and enter a trance-like state, both of us pushing ourselves to the limit in a frenzied sublimation of our libidinal energies.

I used to want only to release that energy inside of her.

Sure, I have entered her in every conceivable way. If you thought the two of you were adventurous in bed together, it is because your brain cannot conceive of the outrageous sexual acts we have performed on, to, in, and around each other. She and I are athletic and extremely flexible, focused solely on performance, and constantly nibbling at each other: it’s like if the theme of Cirque Du Soleil was ‘Sexual Ouroboros.’

However, I will say that she has become much more than than an object of my desire. In the process of knowing her carnally, I have gotten to know her personally. I no longer wish just to take her from you, I want to be with her. To truly know her. I want to wake up next to her every day for the rest of my life.

With that said, you were a big part of her life, and we would love to see you at the ceremony. Please save the date for November 4th, 2021 because you’re invited to the wedding of Lexi Patterson and Braydon Smith!

Formal invitation to follow.