I’m very concerned about the rise of fitness bands. I’ve referred to them before. But things have got to the stage where they aren’t just amusingly unnecessary. Things have gone seriously weird. Truly deranged.
We now have on the market an app called ‘Once.’ It’s a glorified dating app a bit like Tinder I suspect, but since I’ve never used Tinder I can’t say in all honesty. But there’s a twist here. It hooks up with your fitness band and that of your prospective paramour. Now get this. It tells the other party if your heartrate goes up when you see the photo of him/her. The idea is that your heart beats faster when you’re attracted to someone. Now they know.
Well we all know the heartrate thing to be true. We also know the horrible letdown when somebody you really have the hots for isn’t interested. It’s a bad day at the office when that happens. It’s going to be a whole lot worse when you get the cold shoulder from a bit of technology. That’s worse than the class siren snubbing you in school.
But also you may get some false positives. Suppose the object of your intended affections goes, ‘Bugger me! Looks like that bloody stalker I had after me a while ago!’ Heart rate will still go up, but it’s not unalloyed good news is it?
Now we stray even deeper into unhinged territory. I am not making this up.
Real fitness band freaks are using them to assess how many aerobic calories they burn during a bit of rumpypumpy. Yep, how good has it been for your heart to get laid.
What? Your measure of success when making love isn’t how good it was for you, how satisfying for your partner, how emotionally sustaining it was for you both? How many calories is more important than that? Apparently the true enthusiasts are trying to make sure they stay on the job longer to get the burn count up. I always thought staying on the job was about your pleasure and that of your partner, or partners if you have a freewheeling approach. Not about how fit it keeps you.
Just wait for the conversations down the gym. ‘Yeah, really felt the burn last night.’
Well good luck to you, you saddo. Most of these losers don’t even tell their partners they’re monitoring the calorie count/heartrate, blah blah blah. Your partner finds out, it’s the Walk of Shame for you, and you bloody well deserve it. And if you have partner who thinks this a cool idea? Run as fast as you can. That’s quite good aerobic exercise, and will put some distance between you and an obsessional psycho.